``From the client's point(s) of view'': How poor people perceive and evaluate political clientelism1

JAVIER AUYERO
State University of New York at Stony Brook

The sociologist must never ignore that the specic characteristic of her point of view is to be a point of view on a point of view. She can only reproduce the point of view of her object and constitute as such, through resituating it within the social space, by taking up that very singular (and, in a sense, very privileged) viewpoint at which it is necessary to place oneself to be able to take (in thought) all possible points of view. Pierre Bourdieu

The tropes of ``disorganization'' and ``anomy and radicalism'' have governed the studies of the North American ``dark ghetto'' 2 and of the Latin American slum.3 Similarly, ``political clientelism'' has been one of the strongest and most recurrent images in the study of political practices of the poor ^ urban and rural alike ^ in Latin America, almost to the point of becoming a sort of ``metonymic prison'' 4 for this part of the Americas. Political clientelism ``represents the distribution of resources (or promise of) by political oce holders or political candidates in exchange for political support, primarily ^ although not exclusively ^ in the form of the vote.'' 5 Used (and abused) to explain why poor and destitute people sometimes follow populist leaders, and at other times authoritarian or conservative ones,6 the notion of political clientelism has been understood as one of the central elements of the populist appeal7 but has also been dened as a mode of vertical inclusion distinct from populism.8 Political clientelism is also recurrently associated with the limitations of Latin America's unceasingly fragile democracies.9 It is seen as one of the pillars of oligarchic domination that reinforce and perpetuate the role of traditional political elites,10 and as a practice that remains ``at the core of party behavior.'' 11 The exchange of votes for favors is
Theory and Society 28 : 297^334, 1999. 1999 Kluwer Academic Publishers. Printed in the Netherlands.

298 seen as one of the possible relationships between political parties and organized popular groups or community associations. In this case, the analysis usually focuses on the eort made by popular organized groups to ``bypass traditional mechanisms of political cooptation,'' 12 and on the varying vulnerability of local associations to clientelist penetration.13 Furthermore, political clientelism is examined as a form of atomization and fragmentation of the electorate or the ``popular sector,'' 14 as a way of inhibiting collective organization and discouraging real political participation. Scholars focusing on cases of ``collective clientelism'' 15 nd this last examination inadequate. The widely used (but rarely scrutinized) antinomy between traditional, clientelist politics and modern or radical forms of participation has been contested in recent analyses as oversimplied.16 This resilient and pervasive informal institution is recurrently considered an ``old societal ill'' opposed to the participatory ideology of social movements and their emphasis on political autonomy,17 but is also understood to be based on trust and solidarity.18 Last, but hardly least, vertical clientelist bonds are conceptualized as the exact opposite of those horizontal networks of civic engagement that foster a truly civic community, and that, in turn, ``make democracy work.'' 19 Denitional problems aside,20 an overwhelmingly negative image of clientelism permeates scholarly analyses. Among sociologists, anthropologists, and political scientists, it is common knowledge that clientelist exchanges concatenate into pyramidal networks. The structure of these ``domination networks,'' 21 and the key actors within them (patrons, brokers, and clients), are well studied phenomena of popular political life.22 Most scholars of the subject also agree that clientelistic relationships are as far from any kind of Simmelian sociability (``the purest, most transparent, most engaging kind of interaction ^ that among equals'' 23) as from a societas leonina (a partnership in which all the benets go to one side). Scholars concur in that patron-broker-client relations are a cocktail of ^ to continue with the Simmelian language ^ dierent forms of social interaction: exchange, conict, domination, and prostitution. Clientelist relations are seen as hierarchical arrangements, as bonds of dependence and control,24 based on power dierences and on inequality. Being highly selective, particularistic and diuse they are ``characterized by the simultaneous exchange of two dierent types of resources and services: instrumental (e.g., economic and political) and ``sociational'' or expressive (e.g., promises of loyalty and solidarity).'' 25 Clientelist relationships are also characterized by

299 having individuals as their protagonists in opposition to organized corporate groups. Finally, they are said to be neither ``fully contractual nor legal ^ in fact, they are often illegal ^ but are based on more informal, though tightly binding, understandings.'' 26 Clientelist relationships, most scholars agree, constitute a realm of submission, a cluster of bonds of domination in opposition to a realm of mutual recognition, of equality and cooperation. The uses of the notion of political clientelism are currently being scrutinized and problematized from dierent perspectives and in regard to diverse geographical settings.27 Except for these few critical approaches, contemporary studies on the subject have come to an impasse, becoming familiar, almost predictable.28 Revolving around the same limited issues, they repeatedly leave certain subjects untouched. One of those unexplored subjects is the central concern of this article: the dierent and competing views that ``clients'' themselves hold of ``clientelist politics.'' Testimonies about the working of clientelism are usually gathered from oppositional politicians, journalists, or community leaders. Only sporadically does one listen to the so-called clients, to the reasons they give for their behavior (supporting a particular patron or broker, attending rallies, etc.), to their own judgments concerning what others label ``anti-democratic'' procedures.29 The present article breaks with this scholastic and externalist approach by focusing on the opinions and evaluations of those involved in these clientelist exchanges. It examines the workings of clientelism from the client's point(s) of view. The aims of this report are two-fold. First, I seek to provide fresh ethnographic data on a little known universe: that of Peronist clientelist politics in contemporary Argentina. At a more theoretical level, this article brings together relational and experiential sociologies in order to: a) problematize the notion of political clientelism as a mechanism of massive electoral mobilization, and b) rethink the logic of clientelist practices under conditions of extreme material and symbolic destitution. My analysis of the clients' viewpoints is based on life-stories, in-depth interviews, and informal conversations I carried out during an intensive year of eldwork (1996) with residents of a shantytown called Villa Paraiso.30 Villa Paraiso is an enclave of urban poverty located in the spito, in the southern part of the Conurbano Bonaerense,31 city of Co bordering the Federal Capital of Argentina. Paraiso ^ as its residents

300 call it ^ is one of the oldest slums in the Conurbano Bonaerense, and the largest in terms of population (approximately 15,000 inhabitants according to the last population census).32 The majority of Paraiso residents have continuously dened themselves as Peronists, and this self-denition is reected in their voting patterns (in the last presidential elections [May 1995], nearly 60 percent of the slum population of Paraiso voted for the presidential candidate of the Peronist party). Peronism is still the dominant force within this enclave of urban poverty and destitution in the eyes of those who, like the local priest, told me: ``This is a very Peronist slum,'' or like the state ocials who admitted: ``Paraiso is a stronghold of the Peronist party.'' This article asks how people who receive favors, goods, and services from Peronist party brokers ^ who undoubtedly attempt to ``win their vote'' ^ think and feel about these exchanges, and how they evaluate the brokers' activities and politics in general. The rst part of the article describes the web of ongoing relationships in which brokers and clients of the Peronist party are located. The second part concentrates on: a) the dierent points of view that circulate within the slum concerning the distribution of goods before the political rallies organized by the local brokers, b) the diverse evaluations that the people make about the Peronist brokers, and c) the competing views they have about politics and its particualar role in the history of the neighborhood. Drawing inspiration from Tilly's model of the polity, and from Bourdieu's notion of doxic experience, the third part of this article examines the source and possible meanings of these dierent views, evaluations, and judgments.33 After reconstructing the clients' viewpoints and embedding them in a relational matrix, the concluding sections consider the notion of clientelism as a mechanism of domination and as a strategy of electoral mobilization. To foreshadow some of the results of the reconstruction of the clients' viewpoints, I suggest that clientelist networks are, in eect, domination networks but that their eectiveness as a mechanism of electoral mobilization is far from certain. Because clientelist domination depends on everyday, strong, face-to-face relationships, it has certain limitations in terms of massive vote-getting capacity. I show that the media-driven image (unintendedly reproduced by those scholarly approaches that do not take the clients' perspectives into account) of an exchange of votes for favors (that allegedly instantiates during electoral times) is misleading. We should avoid the mechanistic (and stigmatizing) view of poor

301 people as Pavlovian agents who vote and support political candidates in exchange for favors and services, refocusing our studies on the relational and experiential matrix (the ``dynamics of social interweavings,'' to quote Norbert Elias34) that links patrons, brokers, and (some) ``clients'' in ongoing problem-solving networks, intricate webs of material, and symbolic resources. The characters in the problem-solving network: Clients and brokers
Goods are used for establishing social relations. Mary Douglas

Juancito and I ``began our friendship more than twelve years ago. ...'' Nelida told me one cold winter morning in Villa Paraiso. Juancito sica (UB) ``Pero n Vive.'' 35 Pisutti is the president of the Unidad Ba Nelida tells me that Juancito ``is so good. He always lends you a hand. Now I am on medication, because I had a hemoplegy, and the medicine is so expensive ... I can't aord it, and he helps me, he gets the medicine from the municipality ... he helps me a lot, and whatever happens at the UB he calls me, because I collaborate at the UB.'' She says that the most important politician in Villa Paraiso is Juancito. ``Here, on our block, we have Juancito,'' she assuredly notes. ``I always show up at Matilde's UB, in gratitude or because of our friendship, they always call me, and I go,'' Adela says. Her daughter and husband got their jobs (respectively, as a public employee at the Municipality and as a garbage collector) through Matilde, who is a councilwoman of the Peronist Party. Adela never misses the political rallies organized by Matilde, she ``has to be thankful to her.'' Adela and Nelida are what the literature on political clientelism would label ``clients'': actors who give their political support to a broker or a patron in exchange for particular goods, favors, and services. Scholarly and journalistic accounts would also label Nelida and Adela as ``clients.'' They are the ones who attend rallies, support this or that politician and ^ usually ^ vote for Peronism because, so the tale runs, they ``receive things'' from the Party: a job, medicine, a metal sheet for the roof, pairs of sneakers for their sons and daughters, a choripan (meat sausage sandwich) on the day of the rally, etc.36

302 Matilde and Juancito are what the literature on the subject calls political brokers, mediators between a political patron ^ in this case, Rolo spito ^ and some of his supporters, known Fontana, the mayor of Co as ``clients.'' Capituleros, in the Peru of the 1930s and 1940s, cabo eleitoral in Brazil from the 1930s on, gestor, padrino politico, or cacique in Mexico at various points in its history, precinct captains in the political machines of Chicago and elsewhere in the U.S., caudillo barrial in the Radical and the Conservative parties of Argentina in the 1920s, referente or puntero Peronista in the Argentina of the 1990s:37 although there are signicant dierences among them, their function is essentially the same, they operate as go-betweens.38 They mediate between their caudillos, chefes politicos, or ward bosses and clients. In Villa Paraiso, as in many poor neighborhoods in the Conurbano Bonaerense, one of the available means of satisfying the poor's basic needs for food and health care is through the political party that has direct access to national, provincial, and, as in this case, local state resources: the Peronist Party. In poverty-stricken neighborhoods, sicas constitute one squatter settlements, and slums, the Unidades Ba of the most important places in which basic needs can be satised, sicas through which basic problems can be solved. These Unidades Ba give incredible organizational strength to the Peronist party and are the sites in which Peronist brokers ^ known as punteros or referentes ^ are located. Brokers usually do favors (such as distribute food and medicine) for their potential voters and for others, but they are not alone in their work. They almost always have an inner circle of followers. These followers are the brokers' ``personal satellites.'' 39 The problem-solving network consists of a series of wheels of irregular shape, pivoting around the dierent brokers. The broker is related to the members of his or her inner circle through strong ties of long-lasting friendship, parentage, or ctive kinship. Both Matilde and Juancito ^ the two most important and powerful local leaders in Villa Paraiso ^ have this ``eective network'' 40 around them, people with whom interactions are more intense and more regular. This inner circle helps the brokers to solve the everyday problems of slum-dwellers: they run the soup-kitchens sica ; they are normally in charge that function at the broker's Unidad Ba of opening, cleaning, and maintaining the locale; they usually announce when the broker is available at the UB to the ``outer circle,'' and they spread the news when food is being distributed at the UB or the Municipal building.

303 The outer circle ^ i.e. the potential beneciaries of the brokers' distributive capacities ^ are related to brokers through weak ties. 41 They contact the broker when problems arise or when a special favor is needed (a food package, some medicine, a driver's license, the water truck, getting a friend out of jail, and so on); but they do not develop ties of friendship or ctive kinship with brokers. Although they may attend some of the rallies or gatherings organized by the broker, or even vote for him or her, they do not have an everyday, close, intimate relationship with them. In other words, the borker's ties to the inner circles are dense and intense; their ties to the outer circle are more sparse and intermittently activated. The bases for this strong relationship are multiple. Those who are part of the brokers' inner circle have known ``their brokers'' for quite a long time (usually more than four or ve years), and the brokers have ``lent them a hand'' ^ as Adela told me ^ in a time of extreme hardship. In the life-stories and interviews I recorded, most of the members of the inner circle highlighted a foundational favor that inaugurated this long-lasting and ^ as we shall see ^ ``very useful'' relationship. Brokers are portrayed as coming to rescue them without ulterior motives. With that foundational favor a relationship of mutual help is established.42 The foundational transactions develop into ties, which in turn will concatenate into networks. Rosa represents an ideal typical illustration of what I am trying to convey. She is now 54 years old, and has known Juan Pisutti since 1990. In her own words, ``I didn't have enough money to buy the eyeglasses that the doctor prescribed ... a neighbor sica, where Pisutti would tell suggested to me to go to the Unidad Ba me whether I can get the eyeglasses or not.'' It was through Pisutti that she got her new eyeglasses. When the soup-kitchen opened in the UB, Pisutti called Rosa to join the activities in his UB. Rosa reported that invitation in this way: ``While I use these eyeglasses, I have to be grateful to you, because I got them through you ....'' Within the Peronist problem-solving network, Peronist brokers function as gatekeepers for the ow of goods and services coming from the executive branch of the municipal power (the mayor) and the ow of support and votes coming from the ``clients.'' Resources (food and sica, where medicine) come from the Municipality to the Unidad Ba the brokers have discretionary power to do what they want with them. The information concerning food distribution at the municipal building also circulates through the UBs. As a woman from a UB told me: ``Every month, at the Party meetings, the mayor informs us (the 140

304 UBs that usually attend the meeting) of the date when they are going to give out food .... We tell the neighbors.'' Being members of the Peronist party, brokers have the connections that enable them to gain access to knowledge about resource-distribution. They enjoy what network analysts call ``positional centrality.'' 43 Although neighbors know, in general, about the food distribution at the municipality, they do not know the precise date on which the distribution will be carried out. Furthermore, they ignore the always changing procedures to obtain the bags of food. Brokers do know the dates, and have the specially designed cards without which people cannot obtain the food. These cards are small tickets that have a number on them that indicates the date on which they can go to the municipal building. Whether or not the general population's ignorance is ``deliberately created,'' or is an ignorance that ``just happens,'' 44 it is clear that Peronist punteros or referentes constantly attempt to erect themselves as the (only) channels that facilitate transactions or resource ows.45 These functions of gatekeeping and information hoarding are shared by many of the dierent types of brokers in diverse historical and geographical settings. Precinct captains, capituleros, cabos eleitorales, caudillos, and punteros partake of the same structural location and function: ``A political broker can either obstruct or facilitate the ow of demands, favors, goods and services to or from some constituency.'' 46 The client's viewpoint Despite the limitations of the ``clientelist impasse,'' the literature accurately delineates the system of objective relations briey summarized above. With minor dierences, most of the literature describes the systems of relations in which patrons, brokers, and clients are located (networks, dyads, sets), the ``exchanges'' that take place within those networks, and the brokers' functions within them. Notwithstanding recent actor-centered approaches,47 a vital shortcoming of most of the literature is that it provides an inadequate explanation for the subjective dimension of clientelism, i.e., insucient attention is paid to the experiences, thoughts, and evaluations embodied in those ``objective'' relationships. As much of the literature on political clientelism suggests, but inadequately explores, the distribution of goods and services is a

305 necessary, but not the only, condition for the operation of the clientelist world. Because the acts of giving and receiving are, to use E. P. Thompson's phrase, lived human experiences, the cluster of beliefs and assumptions encompassing them ^ explaining and clarifying them, justifying and legitimizing them ^ is as important as the ``exchanges'' themselves. If we are to understand the full complexity of political clientelism, we should thereby retrieve, or better, reconstruct, the client's perspective. The eort dovetails with Geertz's emphasis on the need to study social phenomena ``from the actors' point of view.'' 48 Far from being a new version of the impossible task of entering the actors' minds, recovering the protagonist's point(s) of view means that we should situate ourselves in the position and in the set of relationships from which ``clientelist'' practices, evaluations, and beliefs are being constructed, and make sense of them from the vantage point of that location. Although I think it is important to retrieve the ``clients' point(s) of view,'' I share the critique that has been made of the purposely ``empathetic dissection of the native's point of view.''As Wacquant points out in his exploration of the ``pugilistic point of view,'' it is very debatable ``whether one can pinpoint a single, generic, `native' point of view, as opposed to a range of discrepant, competing, or warring viewpoints, depending on structural location within the world under examination.'' 49 To anticipate some results of this reconstruction, I will argue that, from the outside, what appears as an exchange of votes for favors is seen from the inside in many dierent (and, sometimes, antagonistic) ways: manipulation versus caring, interested action (politics, calculative exchange) versus disinterested actions (friendship). Furthermore, most of those who receive vital resources on an everyday basis do not see their bond with the broker as a power relationship. For them, clientelism is habitual practical knowledge, thus hampering a spectatorial posture on those power relations. Same rally: Contrasting interpretations ``On our block,'' Susy told me, ``Matilde donated the pipes to construct the sewer. Yet she never told us: `I give you this, but you should do this, go there, or vote for me.' The only thing she told us was that she would like to come and see when we have nished constructing the sewage system.'' Susy lives across the street from the local school. Esther, the school's director, has another interpretation of the same sewage instal-

306 lation. She agrees that the pipes were supplied by councilwoman Matilde, but she stresses the exchange aspect of the operation by reproducing a phrase that ^ Esther believes ^ Matilde presumably told the beneciaries of ``her pipelines'': ``Whenever I send the bus to the corner of your house in order to be loaded (for a rally) ... you know what to do.'' For the school director, Matilde exchanges pipelines for attendance to rallies. For Susy, who is the direct beneciary of the sewage installation, the pipelines are one demonstration ^ among many others ^ of how helpful Matilde is. Agents who ^ as the director of the school ^ do not live in the slum but only work there are the only ones who use the term ``political clientelism'' to convey this exchange of goods and favors for demonstrations of support. An architect from a non-governmental organization, the school director, and an activist of a center-left party (who lives in a nearby neighborhood) are the only ones who refer to the political practices inside the slum as following a ``clientelist logic.'' They use the notion of ``clientelism'' as a) an indictment of the manipulative practices of the slum's political brokers, b) evidence of the ``innocence'' of slumdwellers, or c) a manifestation of their enduring and ``traditional ways of doing things.'' As the activist of the center-left party tells me as soon as we start our conversation about politics in the slum: ``You know, we are against political clientelism, the handing out of food so that people go to the rallies ....'' Yet, although they are the only ones who use the term ``clientelism,'' they are not alone in denouncing the ``utilization of the needs of the people for political purposes.'' Many neighbors usually refer to the rallies organized by the Peronist party as a palpable demonstration of the way the needy can be ``used'' by ``corrupt politicians.'' Many neighbors insist that the ``punteros use the people'' for the rallies, and that this ``use'' works against the interests of the neighbors because, as one of them puts it, ``there are not enough rallies in a month to feed '' a family.'' Rally attendance is seen as a demonstration of the ``naivete of some inhabitants or of their lack of psycho-social development (``Do you see those buses, they are going to pick people up for the rally.... '' I don't understand, we will never grow up....'' Toni, an old-time resident of the slum, told me). As Horacio ^ a Peronist who used to attend rallies ^ angrily told me:
H: How are you gonna go to a rally in which there are four or ve bottles of red wine circulating, and they touch your wife's ass? And in which you see that they are drunk and smoking pot? ... He (the Peronist broker) is the one

307
who takes 50 people that smoke marijuana and drink wine and go and shout as crazy people, and if they have to punch someone they will .... Nobody is gonna come for me, because I do not smoke or drink, and because I will go to the rally to listen to what is being said .... I like to bring 20 people that are healthy. They (Peronist brokers) prefer to bring 100 because they give them wine and pot, they don't go without that. Politics is like that ....

The distribution of marijuana and wine to the young people who attend the rally is an open secret, something that, as Toni told me, ``everybody knows.'' This ``open secret'' has a polemically double edge. On the one hand, it serves to vent one of the dominant antagonisms that runs through the slum: youngsters versus the rest. Older residents ubiquitously point at the youngsters of the slum as the major source of delinquency, insecurity, and danger.50 The rally is another occasion to single out these youngsters and hold them publicly responsible for everything that happens in the slum. On the other hand, the association between drugs/alcohol and politics is a way of condemning the political doings of slum brokers and to assert that this ``way of doing politics'' has nothing to do with the way they understand things should be. As Toni succinctly puts it:
Toni: Inside the slum she (Matilde) does whatever she wants .... J: What do you mean? Toni: She calls the people whenever there is a rally, she uses those guys who are idling around, she takes them to paint walls, she uses them for the rallies, to play the drums, and when the day is over she gives them a packet of food or a joint .....

The attendance at rallies to show support for a candidate or an ocial is probably the most blatant manifestation of what many label ``clientelist politics.'' Yet, it is the most supercial expression. Attending rallies expresses deep-seated, usually long-lasting relationships between those who participate in them ^ the problem-holders (``clients'') and the problem-solvers (brokers of the Peronist Party). The next section analyzes this supercial manifestation by asking: How do those who are pointed out as ``used,'' ``manipulated,'' ``carried,'' or ``clients'' evaluate their attendance at the rallies?

308 Rallies as ``demonstration of gratitude'' or ``collaboration'' Although none of those who got a job or some favor through the decisive intervention of the Peronist brokers would admit that they were asked something in exchange for what they received, a more subtle association can be seen. Specically, the ``client'' feels compelled to attend the rally (the acto) but does not understand it as a reciprocating duty in exchange for the job or favor rendered. Lucina was Matilde's cleaning lady until she had a stroke. She gave up her work and got a pension of $110 through Matilde who, at the time, was the director of the Social Welfare section of the Municipality. Currently, Lucina is taking very expensive medicine for her sickness, which is also provided by Matilde. Her physician at the Hospital Evita is a friend of Matilde's and, thereby, ``assists me very well.'' Lucina's husband works as a public employee at the Municipality ^ a job he got, needless to say, through Matilde.
Lucina: Maybe for the rallies ... yes (she asked us for something), but she doesn't pay attention to whether someone who got medicine from her really attends the rally or not. Sometimes, she promises a bag of food for the people that go to the acto.

nica agrees, Matilde never explicitly asks them to attend the rallies Mo in exchange for what they receive ``from her'' (mostly medicines and food, in her case).
(People) go (to the rally) because they like it. They think that they have to thank her (agradecerle) for what she gives us. I talk to my neighbors about Matilde, and they really appreciate her. I tell them to go and ask for medicine, because if she has it, she will hand it out. And if she doesn't she will try to get it, or tell you where to look ....

No one designated ^ and stigmatized ^ by neighbors and outside agents as ``manipulated'' would say they go to the actos because they receive things. They would call their assistance either collaboration or gratitude (colaboracion, gratitud). Rosa gets expensive medicine for her father through Juancito. She also got her eyeglasses through his intervention at the Welfare Section of Municipality. In reference to her usual participation in the Peronist rallies she says, ``I say that I have to fulll my obligation to him (para l). If my presence is useful to him [Juancito], I'll go cumplir con e there .... It is my form of saying `thank you.' ''

309 sica. She Coca is part of the permanent sta at Juancito's Unidad Ba sometimes gets a bonus from him to get food at the Municipality and she receives milk from the UB for her child. She openly admits that there is distribution of food before and after the rallies; yet, she contests the view that that is the cause of their attendance. Carefully analyzed, her statement can be taken as a clear-cut distinction between the exchange of things and the generative principle of the clients' actions. Most of the half-scholarly and half-journalistic literature on political clientelism conates both elements. Yet, if we are to believe Coca, the things that circulate before and after the rally should not be taken as the reasons of their attendance to the rallies. She, in a way, cautions us against a common misperception: we cannot take the network ow (goods and favors, votes and support) as an explanation of actor's dispositions and representations.
We go to the rally and after attending, after a week or so, Juancito brings food from the municipality, and he distributes it among those who have attended the rally, in gratitude to those who went. Sometimes he buys chorizos (meat sausages), he prepares some sandwiches, he gives out sandwiches. I understand that he does that because people support him, I understand it as a kind of gratitude, I do not think (he does that) to buy people (comprar a la gente). It is a way to show gratitude (mostrarle el agradecimiento).

``Gratitude'' goes without saying, because ^ almost always ^ it comes without saying. People who receive things know that they have to go, they are part of a universe in which everyday favors imply some return as the rule of the game, a rule understood as a ``scheme immanent in practice,'' 51 as a mandate that exists in a practical state. As relations between problem-holders and problem-solvers are ``practical'' ^ insofar as they are routinely ``practised, kept up, and cultivated'' 52 through the distribution of things and the granting of favors ^ attendance at a rally is part of the stock of practical knowledge. This habitual knowledge can be the subject of discourse only when explicitly requested. They have such a close relation to the broker's distributive practices that a spectatorial point of view on the ``exchange'' is precluded.53 Chatting with Coca ^ and pretending that I was not understanding what she was telling me (or probably not really understanding it) ^ I asked her.
J: So when Matilde gets the medicine you need, does she come and tell you: you have to come with me to the rally? ) that I have to go with her instead of C: No (explaining to me), I know (yo se with someone else. Because she gave me medicine, or some milk, or a packet of yerba or sugar, I know that I have to go to her rally in order to fulll my

310
que tengo que ir al acto para cumplir con ella), to show obligation to her (Yo se my gratitude. Because if I do not go to her rally, then when I need something she won't give it to me, (she would say) ``go ask the person who went to the rally with you.''

Mariana tells me her family was having a hard time because her father had been red from his job as a carpenter, and her sister (Luisa) had lost her part-time job.
Mariana: ... we didn't have any resources at all. So my mother looked for the support from Matilde, and Matilde helped her a lot. She helped us with food and with the job for Luisa. That's the reason why, if my mother can help with anything, she will be there, with Matilde .... J: Helping Matilde in which sense? Mariana: Attending a rally, because Matilde always needs people. Or when she organizes a festival, she always needs some people to help her in the organization.

Out of gratitude for or in collaboration with the broker's needs, few believe their participation in the rallies constitutes an obligation. Victoria's husband (Mario) works full-time at the local health center, a job that he got after participating in Matilde's clique for more than six months. ``Matilde really delivers ... she sends powdered milk to the UB around the corner.''
J: Does she ask something in exchange for that? Catalina (Victoria's daughter): No, sometimes we go to the rallies, but there's no obligation .... Victoria: It is not an obligation, as my husband (Mario) says: ``You have to invite (people to the rallies) and tell them that it is through Rolo (the Mayor) that they are getting the milk ... they are being helped, so it would be good if they show up in at least one rally.''

In addition to being a ``collaboration'' with the brokers, or an ``expression of gratitude'' for their ``sacriced work,'' the rally is also seen as ``spontaneous'' participation, and as an opportunity to evade the dullness of everyday life in the slum. Ruli and her neighbor tell me that they attend the rallies for ``enjoyment.''

311
We are inside our homes the whole day, we cannot go out anywhere ... so when there is a rally, we catch the bus, we take a ride, we go to the park, we enjoy ourselves ... (nos distraemos).... We amuse ourselves ... but don't ask us what happened in the rally, because we don't understand anything, that's the truth. We enjoy ourselves 'cause, where else can we go? ... (Nos divertimos, porque si no, donde mas vamos a ir?).

Against the dull and violent environment of the slum, the entertainment provided by the rally can hardly be underestimated. Only a removed and distant point of view can miss the fact that some of those who attend the rallies do not usually have ``free time.'' The extreme material deprivation in which they spend their everyday lives can also help us understand the meaning of a ``free ride.'' In a demonetized environment in which a peso (a dollar) is a lot, a free round trip to the center of the capital for the whole family ^ around 8 dollars ^ is extremely signicant, not only materially, but also symbolically as illustrated in the case of Juana. Juana is probably an extreme case, but nevertheless worth mentioning as an example of the entertainment that a rally might provide in these deprived contexts. During the summer of 1989, she attended the launching of Menem's presidential campaign in Mar del Plata (Buenos Aires' main beach resort). It was the rst time that Juana (by then 34 years old) saw the sea. The party paid for the bus fare and they stayed at the Transport Union's hotel, where ^ Juana remarked ^ ``they even have hot water, I can't complain ....'' It was through the Party that she saw the sea and stayed in a hotel with hot water. The literature on political clientelism and most of the political and journalistic accounts of ``clientelist practices'' are constantly concerned with the ``negative determinants'' 54 ^ mainly economic deprivation, but also ``lack'' of civic culture, a resilient ``culture of dependency,'' etc. ^ that supposedly hold poor people under the grip of clientelist politics. Although the (diverse and, sometimes competing) meanings of the rallies can only be grasped against the backdrop of extreme material deprivation and the sense of isolation that pervade much of the harsh reality of slum-dwellers, the ``positive attraction'' that this specic social universe might have should not be neglected. Although hardly the only possible meaning, the ``entertaining'' character of a rally should also be included in the picture if we are to take the participant's point of view seriously. As Ruli precisely summarizes (laughing), ``We go to the rallies to enjoy ourselves, we really enjoy ourselves.'' And as Juana insisted, ``I saw the sea .... It's so nice.'' If we, meaning people who neither live nor work in the slum, are to understand what Juana is

312 saying, that is, to imagine ourselves in her place and to take her point of view, to understand that if we were in her shoes we ``would doubtless be and think just like her,'' 55 we could not miss the apparently supercial point that she (a 34-year-old-woman, with no stable job, with a husband who just lost his, with a handicapped baby girl) witnessed for the rst time the vastness of the sea and stayed in a hotel with hot water. Can she really complain? Doesn't she have to be grateful to the one who invited her to that rally? The ``positive attraction'' is not limited to the day of the rally. Those who got a municipal job through the explicit action of ``their brokers'' believe that attending the rallies is an important element in a long process through which they demonstrate their faith in the broker. In this way, they show him or her that they are loyal, ``ready-to-help,'' and responsible, and, in turn, hope they are given the chance to get a public job. In this sense, attendance at the rally provides information about commitment to a broker (and his/her commitment to followers). As such, the rally is a ritual, in Paige and Paige's sense of the term: an opportunity to declare the intentions of followers and brokers, and to evaluate each other's intentions.56 Alfonsina is in charge of the distribution of milk from a state-funded social assistance program at ``Juancito's UB.'' She got her job as a cleaning woman at a public school through Juancito.
A: When there is a rally, we (the people of the Party) collaborate in any way possible ... so, maybe you can get a job there, but you have to be patient .... J: And you were patient .... A: Yes, I was patient, and with patience I got it ....

From a removed point of view, the rally is seen as the product of the things given, and the actors who attend them as subjects who mechanically respond to material incentives. Once we take the client's point of view seriously we see that the rally ^ either conceptualized as collaboration, as an expression of gratitude, or as an occasion for having a good time ^ is not an extraordinary event but part and parcel of the routine solution of survival problems. It is not an addendum to the act of solving a problem, of obtaining medicine, a package of food, or ^ in the best case ^ a public post, but is an element within an everyday network of relationships.57 It is true that one of the constitutive outcomes of this on-going problem-solving network is rally attendance.

313 But to understand the massive attendance as a mere product of the personalized distribution of favors and goods is a ``distortion bordering on disgurement,'' of the kind that reduces boxing to physical aggression.58 This distortion oversimplies a complex and multifarious activity into a single aspect, usually the most salient and questionable to those who are not part of it. Brokers, good or bad? For those who view participating in a rally as collaboration or an expression of gratitude, brokers are not the unscrupulous and corrupt politicians whom other neighbors talk about. They are ``good,'' ``helpful,'' and ``sacricing'' people with whom problem-holders have a personal relationship, a relationship sometimes conveyed as ``friendship,'' but always referred to as worth keeping. Although Juancito is not held responsible for the distribution of marijuana and wine among the youngsters of the neighborhood ^ as Matilde is ^ both are seen by many neighbors as ``using the people'' and, for that reason, as ``bad and corrupt'' politicians who ``play their own game.'' Those who see the rallies as manipulation of the people hold ^ needless to say ^ a negative evaluation of the brokers. They hold the brokers responsible for the limited amount of resources that social assistance programs distribute in the neighborhood (``they always keep the goods for themselves''), and they accused them of ``deceiving the people.'' 59 Brokers are seen as politicians who only think about the way to rise in the political hierarchy. This view contrasts with the one held by residents who solve most of their everyday life problems through the broker's intervention. Rosa points out what an ``excellent person'' Juancito Pisutti is:
The way he takes care of people, he is an exceptional human being .... He suers, because those who go there (the UB) will never leave without a solution to their problems. He has a solution for everyone. He willingly advises everyone. Many people ask him for money ... and he uses his own money. He never tells them that he doesn't have any money.

According to Alfonsina, ``everybody appreciates Juancito. He is always keen to serve. He likes to help people. He is very patient.'' Carlitos shares this belief: ``Juancito sacrices himself for the people of the slum.''

314 Self-sacricing and helpful are also terms other people use when referring to Matilde: ``She is always present when something happens,'' ``She is so good,'' ``Matilde pays attention to every single detail.'' All of them remark on her accessibility: ``You can go and see her whenever you have a problem, any problem, medicine, she will get it ... if she is able to (solve the problem), be sure, she will do it ....'' It would be a gross misunderstanding to approach these evaluations as calculated or cynical behaviour. The feeling of togetherness that many experience with ``their'' brokers and their sincere belief in the ``caring'' actions of Matilde or Juancito prevent any possibility of distancing themselves from the relationship and of acting as if they were trying to maximize opportunities through the expression of aection. The most important point of agreement among slum-dwellers about the brokers is that they are personally responsible for the distribution of things. The organization that grants a pension, oers a job, or gives out medicine or a food package is not the local, provincial, or national government, but Matilde or Juancito. They are the ones who really care, who feel for them, who are their friends and who ^ as good friends ^ are always available. Hundreds of pages of interview transcripts and eldnotes testify to one simple ^ although essential ^ fact: it is not the state that is perceived as the distributing agency; it is Matilde or Juancito. And as they are the ones who distribute the goods, they are seen as not having any obligation at all to do it; they do it because they really want to, because they care, because they ``sacrice for the people.'' As a youngster who is part of Matilde's circle nicely puts it:
People think it's her obligation to give out things, and it's not an obligation, she does it because she wants to. What's her obligation? Who is she? Is she your mother? People get confused a lot. You do them a favor, and it seems like it is an obligation. And it is a favor.

A favor, according to the Oxford American Dictionary is ``an act that is kindly or helpful beyond what is due or usual.'' Because Matilde personally and willingly delivers the goods ^ beyond what is customary and without having any obligation whatsoever to do it ^ the beneciary cannot invoke any citizenship right to the thing given or the favor granted. There is no third party to which you can resort in order to enforce your claim (what might constitute a right),60 but a personalized relationship out of which nothing can be obtained, no problem can be solved.

315 Politics, helpful or dirty?

``I don't work, I do politics'' ^ old bumper sticker in Villa Paraiso

It is hardly a new observation that party politics in Argentina is seen as extremely distant from everyday life concerns. It is seen as a ``dirty'' activity that makes its sudden appearances at electoral times, and then disappears in the obscure realm of unkept promises.61 As we saw, the association between the attendance at rallies and the distribution of drugs and alcohol is one expression of discontent with politicians and politics in general. Some slum-dwellers believe that there is a ``time for elections'' when demands can be quickly satised and goods promptly obtained because politicians are eager to get their votes.62 As in many other settings throughout Argentina and Latin America,63 the ``time for politics'' is seen as something that occurs once in a while, something that breaks with the routine of everyday life in the barrio. Rogelio, president of one of the few neighborhood associations, tells me: ``Matilde shows up when there is time for politics, when there are elections, that is when politicians show up....'' Horacio, himself the president of one of the many soccer clubs in the area, agrees: ``If we want to get something (sewage system), we will have to wait for the elections. At that time we can demand something ... we provide so many (votes) that we might get something in return.'' This belief that ``electoral times'' are an opportunity to solve problems is anchored in their own experiences. Both Rogelio and Horacio got aid for their respective organizations before the past two elections. ``Through politics, Hugo tells me, we got a plot of land for the club.... Now we need the bricks, so I will have to wait for the next election.'' n's birthday,'' Toni tells me, ``and I am ``Today is the anniversary of Pero sure that all the brokers are handing out food in the municipal building.'' And later he adds, ``Today you are gonna see the workings of a UB. There is a young woman working in that UB across the street. She is going to look for some elderly people in the neighborhood, and she brings them, she hugs them. She never goes and sees how they are doing ....'' Toni summarizes this intermittent character that, he rmly believes, politics takes in the slum: ``Each time there is a rally or an election, they (people at the UBs) hand out food.'' Politics, in this

316 shared view, is also seen as something you ``must do'' if ``you wanna get things done.'' As Mabel says, ``You know, nobody pays attention to you unless you are a relative or an acquaintance of a politician.'' Either restricted to electoral times or limited to the multiple rally days, politics is seen as a discontinuous activity. It is also seen as ``dirty'' and ``corrupt.'' It is a ``lucrative business,'' an ``opportunity to get ahead''; it is ``deceitful'' and ``manipulative.'' As I said before, this is not a new observation. However, if one ``takes the trouble to look closely,'' as W. F. Whyte recommends in his seminal study of the street-corner society, 64 within the same destitute neighborhood, and even among people who live on the same block and who share the same categorical sociological attributes, there are strikingly contrasting evaluations of politics. Almost all of them share the idea that politics is something ``I don't do'' ^ and by implication, ``others do'' ^ sometimes insisting that they ``don't understand shit.'' All agree that politics is a universe with its own rules and that it might serve to improve one's lot, regardless of the common good. Yet some of them highlight certain aspects of politics worth exploring. Some residents appraise the work that brokers and the municipality do for the neighborhood, not only with the distribution of food, but also with metal sheets and mattresses. ``There is a lot of help ... the municipality always has an answer, not only with the food, if you need a metal sheet, they'll give it to you .... In a UB, they used to give milk with a piece of bread. Here, there is a lot of help, the one who says there is no help is lying .... What happens is that you have to go there and wait, everything has its own time.'' In consonance with the perceived steady accessibility of the brokers of the Peronist Party, some people do not believe that the aid coming from politicians increases during election periods: ``assistance'' is an everyday personalized issue.
J: Some of your neighbors told me that the aid comes quicker during election time? V: No, I don't think so.... A: From my point of view, it is always the same ....

Estela gets free (birth-control) pills from Matilde, and stresses that in this way she saves ten pesos a month, ``which is a lot.'' She values

317 Matilde's constant preoccupation with the barrio's problems: ``If you ask her for something, she will give it to you.'' But it is probably in the following two dialogues where the continuous character of local politics, and the immediate relationship certain people have with local politicians, can be best grasped. Nelida receives the medicine for her hemoplegy from Juancito.
J: Who do you call when you need the water truck? N: I look for Juancito.... J: And when you have to do some paperwork at the municipality? N: Juancito ... Juancito ... (laughing). J: How did you become part of the (food distribution program) Plan Vida? N: (laughing) Juancito involved me in the program .... He registered me. J: And how did you get involved in the Plan Pais ? 65 N: We registered here, on the corner.... J: Through Juancito? N: (smiling) ... always through Juancito . . . Juancito (is) always there in the middle (my emphasis).

Adela, whose daughter and husband got their jobs with the help of Matilde, comments:
J: What do you do when people ask you for medicine? A: I send them to Matilde ... because they are there in the afternoons .... M: (A's daughter) ^ Yes, Matilde also helps .... A: Here we resort to Matilde .... M: Matilde is like a small municipality, everybody goes there .... J: Is there any place where powdered milk is distributed? A: Matilde's!!!! (laughing).

The perception of politics as a continuous and helpful activity dovetails ^ although imperfectly ^ with a certain narrative about the history of

318 the neighborhood. Those who see politics as an everyday issue, as a constant way of solving problems, and who perceive brokers as people who are accessible and always ready to help, will highlight the presence of the state ^ personied in the mayor or a particular broker ^ in their recounting of the barrio's history. In contrast, those who, as we just saw, view politics and brokers as dirty, corrupt, or unscrupulous will place emphasis on the neighbors' collective action to improve the slum. The ``statist'' narrative of the barrio versus the ``epic'' version. Are we talking about the same asphalt? One of the aims of my research was to trace a history of problemsolving in a poor neighborhood in Greater Buenos Aires, with the purpose of illustrating the increasing relevance of clientelist arrangements in the way in which poor people solve their everyday survival problems. With that end in mind, I began to pay particular attention to the stories people told me about the history of the neighborhood and of their own history in it. I was looking for patterns in the way people solve their problems in a unitary history of a self-made neighborhood. After a period of holding stubbornly to the idea that ``there has to be one history of this place,'' I found myself reading the testimonies of people who were telling me that the same asphalt was built by dierent people, or that the slum ``improved a lot'' because of dierent actions. During my rst months of eldwork, it was frustrating to discover that what I was looking for ^ a ``history of the slum'' ^ was not there. However, the initial unmanageable anxiety gave way when I realized that these conicting narratives were much more interesting. They were dierent narratives of the same events. According to most residents, the slum improved a lot during the last decade, basically because of the paving of the streets. Before that, a light rain could turn the whole slum into a muddy nightmare. Yet, although everybody agrees that the asphalt ``made a real dierence,'' there are at least two versions of the ``history of the asphalt.'' One stresses the collective organization of the neighborhood that, so the story goes, ``got together'' for the rst time in the slum's history.
The asphalt was made by the neighbors, we organized soccer competitions, we sold chorizos and empanadas, and we collected the money ... and the municipality charged us to build it. The whole neighborhood was united .... (Roberto)

319 Not only did the neighborhood change radically due to the asphalting, but ``el asfalto'' also implied a very important organizational experience. In the extreme version of the ``collective action'' story, the asphalt meant an increase in the level of political consciousness of the slum-dwellers. Others stressed the role played by the particular organization to which they belonged:
The asphalting was made possible through the church organizations. The neighbors organized raes, street fairs, festivals, soccer competitions. We collected the money and went to the municipality. That is the way Villa Paraiso was asphalted.

Note that none of them overlooks the role played by the Municipality in paving the streets, but the emphasis is placed on the collective organization of neighbors in pursuit of a common objective. This ``epic'' version also stresses the collective action of neighbors that resulted in the building of the sewage system and the health centers that serve the slum. The closer we look, however, the more we realize this ``epic version'' is not the only one.
J: How was the asphalt made? Was it made by the neighbors? Coco: No, the municipality did it. It was all made by the municipality....

A suspicious reader may think that they are talking about dierent sectors of the same slum, but most of the testimonies about the asphalt were gathered from people living on the same block. In the same way that they referred to the same broker and the same party in contrasting ways, now they talked about the same asphalt and the same sewage system. Yet, as is quite clear, they express it dierently. Although their stories do not dier altogether ^ after all, they are talking about the same ``material'' asphalt ^ the accents, the highlights are posited in dierent moments. The ``statist'' narrative of the neighborhood stresses the mayor or some particular broker as protagonist in the general improvement of the living conditions.
The mayor built the health center, paved the streets ... he did a lot for the neighborhood. He tried to improve the neighborhood .... We have always gotten aid from the mayor.... We go to see him when we need something and, sooner or later, we get an answer [to our demands]. (Cristina) The neighborhood has improved a lot, and many people thank Rolo [the mayor]. The neighbors put up the money to have the paving done, but

320
whenever they ask him for pipelines, sooner or later they arrive. He sent the machines to do this paving, although we paid for the renting of the machines nica) and for the materials.(Mo

The president of one of the neighborhood associations told me that he and some of his neighbors started to ``struggle'' to have the health-center built, by ``pressuring'' the mayor. ``They'' built the place. ``They'' painted it. ``They'' got the rst physician. Lucina, who lives a block from the president, has another version of the same health center:
Matilde was the one who started with the health center at the neighborhood association; she brought the nurse and brought the rst desk. Although the president of the association is the one in charge, Matilde always ``lends him a hand.''

It is a matter of accents, of course, but the dierences can hardly be missed. The ``epic'' and the ``statist'' histories refer to the same place, to the same material improvements, but they do so in ways that give a central place to diverse protagonists. Those who recount the ``statist'' narrative are the ones who perceive politics as something that might help them, as something that is continuous. Today's constant presence of politicians in their everyday problem-solving dovetails with a narrative that gives central place to those same protagonists. It is probably Josefa who better summarizes this complicity of ``helpful politics'' and ``statist neighborhood history'':
Politics helps a lot .... I improved my home through politics, I constructed all the pipelines and the sewage system for my home through politics .... The paving was done through politics, it was done by Rolo [the mayor]. The municipality helps a lot. Politics helps a lot. When we need them to get drinking-water, they are here.

On the other hand, those who stress the ``collective-eort'' version are those whose distaste for party politics and whose aversion for local brokers are explicitly stated. As the president of the neighborhood association (who, according to his own version, was the protagonist of the construction of the health-center) asserts, implicitly linking Matilde with the distribution of drugs in the villa, ``Matilde's politics is dirty.''

321 Where do dierences come from? Embedding voices Where does the rich variety of narratives, perceptions, and evaluations come from? What is the importance that these dierent voices have in politics? The testimonies quoted above belong to people from the same social class, and roughly the same age group. They are women and men living in the same destitute and stigmatized neighborhood; some of them ^ holding completely dierent views ^ often living half-a-block from one another. They share similar categorical attributes and they have dierent (sometimes antagonistic) experiences of politics, diverse evaluations of the (praised/condemned) actions of the political brokers of the neighborhood, and distinct visions of the history of the neighborhood. For statistical purposes they are the same people, living in the same poor neighborhood, below the (same) ocial poverty line. With their strikingly dierent opinions and evaluations, they defy all the classicatory attempts that relate categories to beliefs/perceptions. In other words, once we take a closer look, the same ``poor people'' living in the same space hold varied ``points of view.'' The mere fact that there are dierent points of view coming from similar social settings leads to an obvious conclusion: there is no categorical explanation for these viewpoints. Yet, and although imperfect, and far from clear-cut, there is a sort of pattern to be found in these viewpoints, a pattern that is rooted not in categories but in the ``relational settings,'' 66 in the ``structural location'' 67 in which these voices are embedded. To all appearances the randomness of voices, evaluations, and narratives is chaotic. However, these ``points of view'' are visions taken from dierent positions. These disparate locations, in turn, matter for purposes of political mobilization. As I mentioned above, problem-solving networks consist of a set of concentric circles that surround the broker ^ the focal point. The dierent circles consist of groups of actors who have dierential access to the goods and services distributed by the broker. As we saw, some people receive their daily medicine from their brokers. Others have obtained their jobs through them. Still others get packages of food. Some have routine access to their brokers. Others have an occasional relationship to them. Others do not even know them personally. What we have are dierent degrees of contact with the broker: a gradient that goes from everyday (and in extreme cases, vital) contact, to an intermittent relationship, to no relation at all.

322 Drawing upon Tilly's model of the polity (and dening the broker as a local center of power) 68 and Bourdieu's notion of doxic experience (as the recognition of the legitimacy of a social order through the misrecognition of its arbitrariness),69 we can formulate the following hypothesis that explains part of the variation found in previous sections: the closer to the broker the resident is, the better will be his/her evaluations of the broker's activities and about local politics; the closer to the broker, the more the history of the neighborhood will be recounted in terms of the decisive inuence of the state ^ personied by the broker or the mayor. In short, proximity to the center of power (self-perception as ``protected by'' the broker, and narrative identity as neighbors living in a barrio that was ``made through politics'') makes the political order less arbitrary. For those actors located closer to the broker (in terms of personal contact, of the type of favors received, of the duration of their relationship) Matilde or Juancito constitute their paramount reality. In Schutz's sense of the word, brokers are part of their everyday, wide-awake, commonsense world. The broker's inner circle is, to paraphrase Schutz's brilliant analysis of the world of truth created in the interaction between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, a common sub-universe of discourse. Established, kept up, and cultivated in the interaction between problem-solvers and problem-holders, both have ``good arguments for explaining away discrepancies.'' 70 Within this province of meaning politics is helpful, the rallies are a collaboration and a demonstration of gratitude, brokers ^ as I was repeatedly told ^ ``really care,'' and the history of the neighborhood has them as the central protagonists. Within this inner circle there is an uncontested acceptance (doxa) of problem-solving through political mediation. Members of this inner circle have such a close relation to the broker's distributive practices that a spectatorial point of view on the ``exchange'' is precluded. Due to its narrative emplotment and its paramount presence, the identity ^ the experience of a shared social relation71 ^ that is being forged around the center of power of the problem-solving network presents neither signs of active resistance nor subtle indications of ``hidden transcripts.'' 72 And yet, in the slum there is ^ as we saw ^ resistance to ``clientelist and manipulative'' practices. These countervoices are usually located outside the broker's inner circle of strong relations and, more often than not, take the form of a complaint about the scarce resources delivered by the brokers. ``They [the brokers] give food to whom they want,'' ``Juancito hands out food once in a while,

323 and people need more than that,'' ``they never keep their promises,'' ``they give things out, but they keep the best for themselves'' are the most commonly heard complaints about the actions of the brokers, reproaches that come from people who are usually disconnected from the network. For those within the inner circle of close relations, domination presents itself as a paradoxical antinomy.73 If they ``resist'' ^ which is out of the question ^ they might lose access to vital resources and thus deepen their deprived condition. If they assimilate the brokers' world of truth ^ as I think they do ^ they are coopted by the institutionalized practices of clientelism,74 and thus partake in the reproduction of the hierarchical relations within the local eld of politics and within the space of the slum. Reappraising clientelism: Favors, domination, and votes
The act of giving itself assumes very solemn forms .... The giver aects an exaggerated modesty.... The aim of all this is to display generosity, freedom, and autonomous action, as well as greatness. Yet, all in all, it is mechanisms of obligation, and even of obligation through things, that are called into play. Marcel Mauss

The distribution of material resources is a necessary, but in itself insucient, condition for the smooth operation of the clientelist world. As Robert Merton argued long ago in his analysis of North American political machines, ``it is important to note not only that aid is provided but the manner in which it is provided.'' 75 The political machine, Merton pointed out, ``fullls the important social function of humanizing and personalizing all manner of assistance to those in need.'' 76 For the case at hand, the implications of Merton's (functionalist) interpretation are quite clear: what is being given (and received) and how it is being given (and received) are equally important elements in the operation of political clientelism. As we just saw, the type of good distributed matters. Vital resources distributed on a daily or weekly basis (such as food or medicine) and special favors that require greater skill or eort to deliver (such as public jobs) tend to generate a dierent type of relationship between broker and prospective client than general goods (i.e., those goods that benet the whole community and cannot be granted to a single individual while being withheld from other residents, such as the paving or

324 lighting of a street, or laying sewer mains). Although further investigation is needed of the material basis of clientelism in Argentina, existing research shows that it is not the good per se that has the capacity to generate one or another type of relationship.77 In their everyday ``acts of giving,'' brokers tailor these goods and favors in special ways. As the extensive literature on the subject insists, trust,78 solidarity, ``hopes for the future,'' 79 familistic orientations,80 or reciprocity,81 do exist in the relationships established among patrons, brokers, and clients. They are verbalized by both clients and brokers whenever asked about them. They are remarked time and again in broker's public speeches. As I showed in another work,82 brokers of the Peronist party present their gatekeeping function as a special relationship with the poor, a relationship conveyed in terms of a personal and deep commitment they claim to have to them. Through a ceaseless symbolic labor intended to deny the logic of self-interest underlying their practices, brokers claim to care for ``their people'' ^ as Juancito remarks time and again. They say that their actions are based on the ``love they feel for them (the poor slum-dwellers),'' as Matilde put it many times in interviews and public speeches, to the point that bureaucratic indierence is eliminated. Brokers of the Peronist party present their political work not as a job but as a ``passion for the people''; theirs is ``all sacrice'' to the point of exhaustion in the job. By way of an incessant performative work, brokers attempt to construct their inner circle of followers as a family, the ``Peronist family'' as both Matilde and Juancito call their closest followers. This transpersonal person of the Peronist family is (constructed and performed) as a ``world in which the ordinary laws of the economy are suspended, a place of trusting and giving ... a place where interest, in the narrow sense of the pursuit of equivalence in exchanges, is suspended'' 83 ``We care about them,'' the brokers say. ``They ^ the brokers ^ care about us,'' some of the clients say. ``They only care about themselves,'' the ones outside the network say about the brokers. Yet, ``as the truth of the interaction is never entirely contained in the interaction,'' 84 we should look more closely at the eect of this discursive emphasis on trust, solidarity, reciprocity, caring, and hope. Insofar as the solutions, services, and protection provided by brokers (inseparably material and symbolic exchanges, in which a thing is given, a favor granted, and something is communicated) are inclined to legitimate a de facto state of aairs that is an unequal balance of power (i.e., a domination network), we can describe them, following Bourdieu, as

325 ideological machines. The act of giving, the caring actions of brokers, and the trusting response of their inner circles transform, or attempt to transform, a contingent social relationship ^ the help of someone who is in need ^ into a recognized (i.e., acknowledged as lasting) relationship: We solve our problem and, by the way, we recognize Matilde or Juan as our problem-solver. This recognition is at the basis of problemsolving through political mediation. Within an ideological environment of cooperation, companionship, and solidarity, ties are constructed that solidify a particular balance of forces. The more some actors participate as members of the polity, the more they will share the ideology of ``caring for the poor,'' of ``social help'' proposed by political leaders and brokers alike, and, in turn, the more doxic the relationship will be with respect to the asymmetrical bond that ties them to the broker. Paraphrasing Mauss's analysis of the gift in archaic societies, through favors ``a hierarchy is [re]established.'' 85 Between political brokers and their inner circles, giving turns out to be a way of possessing, to use Bourdieu's apt expression. Brokers, in contrast, do not ``possess'' the outer circle through such acts of discretionary giving. Those with intermittent relationships with brokers obtain benets when needed, but ^ as is clear from the harsh criticisms they receive ^ they sometimes withhold their political loyalty. This said, it is important to highlight that the outer circle is a constitutive part of the network of relations surrounding the broker. Although they are not entirely the ``captive electorate'' that progressive politicians and part of the media see in every recipient of the party favors, these beneciaries may become at some point members of brokers' inner circles. After all, the distinction between inner and outer circles is an analytical one. In reality, the line that separates them is porous and mobile; its changes depend on the amount of available resources, on the number of brokers competing for electoral posts, and on the local political opportunity structure. In other words, as ``potential clients'' members of the outer circle are fundamental elements in the network of problem-solving through personalized political mediation. What practical consequences do these dierent perceptions have for local politics? Undoubtedly, the acceptance that members of the inner circle confer to the world of problem-solving through political mediation constitutes the strength of the brokers' position. Ultimately, it is the expression of their legitimacy. Yet, at the same time, it represents its major weakness. This legitimacy is the product of a close, everyday, strong relation between problem-holder and problem-solver, a relation

326 that has to be constantly upheld, continuously practiced, personally, daily, and directly exercised. This keeping up of the relationship depends on the capacity of the brokers to maintain the strength of these ties, something that ^ although not exclusively ^ is contingent upon their capacity to deliver. As it turns out, this capacity is limited and dependent on other things. It is limited because the broker can get jobs, deliver medicine, do an essential (or founding) favor, and assist someone as if he or she were part of her family, for a restricted number of people. In the case of the most powerful broker in the slum (Matilde), there are no more than a hundred people who are ^ almost literally ^ bound to her through strong ties (among a voting population of more than seven-thousand people). The capacity of the broker to maintain the tie is also contingent because it depends on the broker's relationship spito) who provides her to a third party (in this case, the Mayor of Co with the goods to be distributed. Thus, the image of an extended ``captive'' clientelist electorate (stereotypically portrayed by the media, and sometimes unreectively adopted by scholars) is, in the case I am analyzing, empirically shaky. Although signicant, the size of brokers' inner circles can hardly account for the ``conquest of the vote'' and ``building of electoral consensus'' that is usually attributed to clientelism. If we are to use the word ``clientelism'' we should therefore restrict it to the inner circle of doxic experience. This does not mean, at any rate, that we should dispose of the study of political clientelism. Not only because domination and inequality are being constantly reproduced within the inner circles but also because the strong ties forged within those circles are extremely important in local politics. Specically, the functioning of the inner circle gives an impressive resiliency to the Peronist Party (a party with the ``phoenixlike quality of arising strong and unspoiled from their ashes'' that Merton detected in the operation of political machines).86 On the one hand, although the number of inner circle members is small, this amount proves crucial during internal party elections not only as hardcore voters but also as activists and poll-watchers during electoral days when the temptations of fraud are large if the other faction does not send its own poll-watchers ( scales). On the other hand, while solving their own survival needs, members of the inner circle solve an organizational problem for party leaders, namely, how to keep the party structure and its members active between elections.87 On the whole, inner circles are cardinal elements in the organizational strength and territorial penetration of the party.

327 Coda: The trope This article examined the form and functions of problem-solving networks linked to the Peronist Party in contemporary Buenos Aires. It reconstructed the dierent points of view agents have of the workings of what some call ``clientelist politics.'' Finally, it grounded those dissimilar viewpoints in the relational settings in which agents are located. After reconstructing these diverse and competing viewpoints and embedding them into ongoing problem-solving networks, this work has shown that the type of relationship that some actors establish with the local centers of power explains their (dierent) views of local leaders, politics, and history. The ties continuously constructed around local centers of power freeze a particular balance of forces: the more some actors participate as members of the polity, the less arbitrary they will nd their lopsided bond with the broker. This reconstruction also challenged the (often taken-for-granted) massive vote-getting capacity of clientelism. An ethnographic and relational approach to the clients' views shows that the trope of political clientelism is often the product of what Bourdieu labels a scholastic point of view, an externalist and remote perspective. This view from afar constructs complex relations and lived experiences as mere exchange of resources, thus losing sight of the specicity of the clients' and brokers' practices. It seems to me that this point of view is (pre)constructed far from where real action lies. It is not in the boisterous ^ and often pathetic ^ distribution of food packages before a political rally or election, but in the abiding ties, in the enduring webs of relations that politicians establish with their ``clients'' and in the ^ sometimes shared (although not cooperatively constructed) ^ array of cultural representations. Acknowledgments I received assistance for this research from the Joint Committee on Latin American and Carribean Studies of the Social Science Research Council and the American Council of Learned Societies with funds provided by the Ford Foundation. I would like to thank Charles Tilly, Nun, Robert Gay, Chandra Deborah Poole, Elizabeth Jelin, Jose Mukerji, Ricardo Sidicaro, Judy Hellman, Lucas Rubinich, and Steve Levitsky for their helpful comments on earlier versions of this article.

328 Earlier drafts were presented at the Colloquium on Argentine Political Culture at the University of Illinois, Urbana, the General Seminar at n Banco Patricios in Argentina, the Casa de Altos Estudios/Fundacio the Contentious Politics Seminar in Columbia University, and various seminars at the New School for Social Research and the Universities of Buenos Aires, General Sarmiento, and Di Tella. I would like to thank the participants in those forums for their many useful insights, suggestions, and criticisms. Notes
1. This title paraphrases (and this article was greatly inspired by) that of Wacquant's article published in this journal. Lo| c Wacquant, ``The Pugilistic Point of View: How Boxers Think and Feel About Their Trade,'' Theory and Society 24/4 (1995): 489^535. 2. See Kenneth Clark, Dark Ghetto: Dilemmas of Social Power (New York: Harper & Row, 1965); and Lo| c Wacquant, ``Three Pernicious Premises in the Study of the American Ghetto,'' International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 21/2 (1997): 335^354. 3. See Janice Perlman, The Myth of Marginality (Berkeley: The University of California Press, 1976); Alejandro Portes, ``Rationality in the Slum: An Essay in Interpretative Sociology,'' Comparative Studies in Society and History 14/3 (1972): 268^286. 4. To use the expression of Arjun Appadurai in ``Putting Hierarchy in its Place,'' Cultural Anthropology 3/1 (1988) 36^49. 5. Robert Gay, ``Community Organization and Clientelist Politics in Contemporary Brazil: A Case Study from Suburban Rio de Janeiro,'' International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 14/4 (1990): 648^665. 6. See, among others, Amparo Menendez-Carrion, La Conquista del Voto en el Ecuador: De Velazco a Roldos (Quito: Corporacion Editora Nacional, 1986); Nicos Mouzelis, ``On the Concept of Populism: Populist and Clientelist Modes of Incorporation in Semiperipheral Polities,'' Politics and Society 14/3 (1985): 329^348; Steve Stein, Populism in Peru. The Emergence of the Masses and the Politics of Social Control (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1980). 7. See, for example, Carlos De la Torre, ``The Ambiguous Meanings of Latin American Populism,'' Social Research 59/2 (1990): 385^414. 8. E.g., Nicos Mouzelis, ``On the Concept of Populism: Populist and Clientelist Modus of Incorporation in Semiperipheral Polities,'' Politics and Society 14/3 (1985): 329^348. 9. See, for example, Guillermo O'Donnell, ``Illusions About Consolidation''; Jonathan Fox, ``The Dicult Transition From Clientelism to Citizenship,'' World Politics 46 (1994): 151^184; Richard Gunther, P. Nikiforos Diamandouros, and Hans-Ju rgen Puhle, ``O'Donnell's `Illusions': A Rejoinder,'' Journal of Democracy 7 (1996): 151^ 159. See also, Gary Hoskin, ``Democratization in Latin America,'' Latin American Review 32/3 (1997): 209^223. 10. Frances Hagopian, ``The Compromised Consolidation: The Political Class in the Brazilian Transition,'' in Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O'Donnell, and J. Samuel Valenzuela, editors, Issues in Democratic Consolidation. The New South American Democracies in Comparative Perspective (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame

329
lez-Iban Press, 1992), 243^293; Carlos G. Ve ez. Rituals of Marginality. Politics, Process, and Culture Change in Urban Central Mexico, 1969^1974 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1983). Gary Hoskin, ``Democratization in Latin America,'' 217. Ruth Cardoso, ``Popular Movements in the Context of Consolidation of Democracy,'' in Arturo Escobar and Sonia Alvarez, editors, The Making of Social Movements in Latin America (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1992), 291^302; see also Cristina Escobar, ``Clientelism and Social Protest: Peasant Politics in Northern Colombia,'' in Luis Roniger and Ayse Gunes-Ayata, editors, Democracy, Clientelism, and Civil Society. See the various essays in Charles Reily, editor, New Paths to Development in Latin America (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner, 1995). David Rock, ``Machine Politics in Buenos Aires and the Argentine Radical Party, 1912^1930,'' Journal of Latin American Studies 4 (1972): 233^256; David Rock, Politics in Argentina: the Rise and Fall of Radicalism, 1890^1930 (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 1975); Guillermo O'Donnell, ``Transitions, Continuities and Paradoxes,'' in Mainwaring et al., Issues in Democratic Consolidation, 17^56. Gerrit Burgwald, Struggle of the Poor: Neighborhood Organization and Clientelist Practice in a Quito Squatter Settlement (Amsterdam: CEDLA, 1996). Susan Stoke's study of a low-income neighborhood in Lima, Peru constitutes an almost perfect ethnographically-based illustration of this dichotomy. Susan Stokes, Cultures in Conict: Social Movements and the State in Peru (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995). Robert Gay's recent work exposes and dismantles most of the false and simplistic antinomies that populate the literature on clientelism in Latin America. See ``Rethinking Clientelism: Demands, Discourses and Practices in Contemporary Brazil,'' forthcoming in European Review of Latin American and Caribbean Research. See, various articles in Arturo Escobar and Sonia Alvarez, The Making of Social Movements in Latin America. Luis Roniger and Ayse Gunes-Ayata, Democracy, Clientelism, and Civil Society. Robert Putnam, Making Democracy Work (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1993). In his review of the recent literature on the subject (with special emphasis on Brazil, but with larger and important implications for the rest of Latin America), Robert Gay acknowledges the ``lack of attention to matters of denition'' of the concept of clientelism. See his ``Rethinking Clientelism.'' David Knoke, Political Networks (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 1990). Larissa Lomnitz, ``Informal Exchange Networks in Formal Systems: A Theoretical mo SobreModel,'' American Anthropologist 90 (1988): 42^55; Larissa Lomnitz, Co viven Los Marginados? (Mexico: Siglo XXI, 1975). Georg Simmel, On Individuality and Social Forms (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1971), 133. See, for example, Jonathan Fox, ``The Dicult Transition''; Michael Bodeman, ``Relations of Production and Class Rule: The Hidden Basis of Patron-Clientage,'' in Barry Wellman and S. D. Berkowitz, editors, Social Structures: A Network Approach (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 1988); Laura Guasti, ``Peru: Clientelism and Internal Control,'' in Steen Schmidt et al., editors, Friends, Followers, and Factions: A Reader in Political Clientelism (Berkeley: The University of California Press, 1977).

11. 12.

13. 14.

15. 16.

17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22.

23. 24.

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25. Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust in Modern Mexico and Brazil (New York: Prager, 1990), 3. 26. Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust in Modern Mexico and Brazil , 4. 27. See, for example, Robert Gay's study of local politics in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Gerrit Burgwald's of Quito, Ecuador; and Cristina Escobar's of Sucre, Colombia. 28. The literature on political clientelism is extensive. When referring to the ``clientelist impasse,'' in this article, I allude to: Samuel Eisenstadt and Luis Roniger, Patrons, Clients and Friends (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); Samuel Eisenstadt, Power, Trust and Meaning (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1995); Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust in Modern Mexico and Brazil (New York: Praeger, 1990), the essays in Luis Roniger and Ayse Gu nes-Ayata, editors, Democracy, Clientelism, and Civil Society (Boulder: Lynne Reinner, 1994); and the classic , and James Scott, editors, works in Steen Schmidt, Laura Guasti, Carl Lande Friends, Followers, and Factions: A Reader in Political Clientelism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977); and Ernest Gellner and John Waterbury, editors, Patrons and Clients in Mediterranean Societies (London: Duckworth, 1977). 29. Velez-Iban ez' Rituals of Marginality stands as one of the few exceptions to this general absence of serious treatment of the clients' viewpoints. His ethnography documents the dierent rituals of marginality (i.e., patron-client relationships, brokerage, political friendships of convenience, and other favor-producing exchanges) that local elites maintain with a marginalized local population in Mexico City, paying particular attention to the process of ``entanglement'' of local leaders in the domains of political elites (and the further exclusion of the local population). He not only describes the process by which local leaders of popular organizations become ``enmeshed in the processes of political brokerage and swallowed up in the rituals of marginality'' (182), but also focus on the process of cultural change undergone by marginalized populations after participating in those rituals. Despite the cooptation of local leaders by political elites,Velez-Iban es observes a process of cultural change manifested in the emergence of networks of women and men who disdain those rituals of marginality, becoming ``problematical to the traditional means by which political actions become diused in Mexico'' (245). For another, more recent, ethnographic approach to the clients' viewpoints see Burgwald's Struggle of the Poor. 30. Names of people and places have been changed to ensure anonymity. 31. The Conurbano Bonaerense is the area comprising the nineteen districts in Argentina's industrial heartland surrounding the Federal Capital. 32. For an ethnographic description of the slum, see my ``This is a Lot like the Bronx, Isn't It? Lived Experiences of Marginality in Argentina,'' forthcoming in International Journal of Urban and Regional Research. 33. Charles Tilly, From Mobilization to Revolution (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1978); Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977). 34. Norbert Elias, What is Sociology? (New York: Columbia University Press, 1978). sica'' is the name given to the neighborhood oces of the Peronist 35. ``Unidad Ba Party in Argentina, hereafter cited as UB. 36. See, for example, the (almost denigrating) newspaper and television reports on the n's death, Peronist rally organized on the occassion of the anniversary of Eva Pero on July 26, 1997. 37. Steve Stein, Populism in Peru. The Emergence of the Masses and the Politics of Social Control (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1980); Michael Conni, Urban

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Politics in Brazil: The Rise of Populism 1925^1945 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1981); Nicos Mouzelis, ``On the Concept of Populism: Populist and Clientelist Modes of Incorporation in Semiperipheral Polities,'' Politics and Society 14/3 (1985): 329^348; Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust in Modern Mexico and Brazil (New York: Praeger, 1990); Robert Gay, Popular Organization and Democracy in Rio de Janeiro: A Tale of Two Favelas (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1984); Robert Gay, ``Community organization and clientelist politics in contemporary Brazil: a case study from suburban Rio de Janeiro,'' International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 14/4 (1990): 648^666; Antonio Ugalde, ``Contemporary Mexico: From Hacienda to PRI; Political Leadership in a Zapotec Village,'' in Roberto Kern, editor, The Caciques. Oligarchical Politics and the System of Caciquismo in the Luso-Hispanic World (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1973), 119^134; Wayne Cornelius, ``Contemporary Mexico: A Structural Analysis of Urban Caciquismo,'' in Robert Kern, editor, The Caciques, 135^150; William Kornblum, Blue Collar Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974); Thomas Guterbock, Machine Politics in Transition: Party Community in Chicago (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980); Ira Katznelson, City Trenches: Urban Politics and the Patterning of Class in the United States (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981); David Knoke, Political Networks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); David Rock, ``Machine Politics in Buenos Aires and the Argentine Radical Party, 1912^1930,'' Journal of Latin American Studies 4/2 (1972): 233^256; David Rock, Politics in Argentina: The rise and fall of Radicalism, 1890^ 1930 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975). As was suggested to me by Robert Gay, an important dierence between brokers is that some of them are ``tied'' to a specic political party (or to a specic patron), as is the case with the punteros Peronistas. As Gay shows in Popular Organization and Democracy, the allegiance of the cabo eleitoral to a specic political party is much less solid. To use the expression of Marshall Sahlins, ``Poor Man, Rich Man, Big-Man, Chief: Political Types in Melanesia and Polynesia,'' in Steen Schmidt et al., editors, Friends, Followers, and Factions, 222. A. L. Epstein, ``The Network and Urban Social Organization,'' in J. Clyde Mitchell, editor, Social Networks in Urban Situations (Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1969), 77^116. On the dierence between ``strong'' and ``weak'' ties (time, intimacy, and emotional intensity involved in the relationships), see Mark Granovetter, ``The Strength of Weak Ties,'' American Journal of Sociology 78 (1973): 1360^1380. Paraphrasing Durkheim in The Division of Labor in Society (New York: Free Press, 1984), we may say that the members of the inner circle are linked to the brokers by ties that extend well beyond the brief moment when the act of exchange is being accomplished. David Knoke, Political Networks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). For the relationship between access to information and network structure, see Bonnie Erickson, ``The Structure of Ignorance,'' Keynote Address, Sunbelt XVI, International Sunbelt Social Network Conference, Charleston, South Carolina, 1996. Roger Gould and Roberto Fernandez, ``Structures of mediation: A formal approach to brokerage in transaction networks,'' Sociological Methodology 89 (1990): 91. Manuel Carlos and Bo Anderson, ``Political Brokerage and Network Politics in

38.

39.

40.

41.

42.

43. 44.

45.

46.

332
Mexico: The Case of a Dominance System'' in David Willer and Bo Anderson, editors, Networks, Exchange and Coercion. The Elementary Theory and its Applications (New York: Elsevier, 1991), 169^387. By ``actor-centered,'' I do not necessarily mean subjectivistic. For the lack of a better term, I use this one to refer to approaches to clientelism that take actors' perceptions of clientelist exchanges seriously, and consider the interplay between the structure of exchange networks and the actions ^ individual and collective ^ of the actors involved in these webs. E.g., Gerrit Burgwald, Struggle of the Poor ; Robert Gay, Popular Organization and Democracy. Cliord Geertz, Local Knowledge (New York: Basic Books, 1983). Lo| c Wacquant, ``The Pugilistic Point of View. How Boxers Think and Feel About Their Trade,'' Theory and Society 24 (1995), 491. The destructive consequences of the drug economy have a strong impact on the slum, which, according to ocial information, is the locality with the highest percentage of drug tracking and addiction in Greater Buenos Aires. Drugs are contaminating the space of the neighborhood, terrifying and humiliating residents, and making them insecure about their own future. Insecurity is the most pervasive feeling among its inhabitants. Drug-dealers and addicts are a tiny minority of the slum population, but they have taken over the public space of the slum and managed to ``set the tone for public life.'' Philippe Bourgois, In Search of Respect (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 10. Or in the residents' own voices: ``The problem here is drugs ... dealers are killing the kids .... (Lucho) This is terrible ... on the corner, many kids get together and they smoke ... weird things ... you can't take your kids to the sidewalk because of the smell. And at night it is terrible, they re their guns at the police .... (Adela) There are a lot of drugs, insecurity.... (Juan) You can't allow your kids to play on the sidewalk, because everyone is smoking marijuana, doing drugs .... (Victoria) There are a lot of kids who have been stealing since they're ve or six ... they act as lookouts, who tell the others if the police come ....'' (Josena) Drug-tracking and diverse addictions (mainly alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine) are having devastating consequences on the life-world of slum-inhabitants. Their feelings about young dealers and consumers not only point to the insecurity they feel, their fear of being mugged or assaulted, but also to the abandonment and the impotence they experience. Violence is becoming, to quote Elias, an ``unavoidable and everyday event'' in the slum, pervading ``the whole atmosphere of this unpredictable and insecure life,'' Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process (Oxford: Blackwell, 1994), 448^449. For an argument concerning the generalization of violence in Latin American shantytowns, see Paulo Pinheiro, ``Democracies Without Citizenship,'' Nacla XXX/2 (1996): 17^23. Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 38. Ibid. My point here is not to deny the much noted existence of strategic calculations on the part of clients but to stress the fact that these calculations are predicated upon the reciprocal recognition of actors as repeated actors. Individual interest maximization within the specic social world of clientelism (to be carefully distinguished from ``resistance'' to clientelist manipulation) grows out of the mutual recognition between clients and brokers crafted within inner circles. In this sense, we can say that brokers' closest followers form a ``circle of recognition'' that hinders a detached point of view on the relationship. See Alessandro Pizzorno, ``On the Individualistic Theory of Social Order.'' In Pierre Bourdieu and James Coleman, editors, Social Theory for a Changing Society (Boulder: Westview Press, 1991).

47.

48. 49. 50.

51. 52. 53.

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54. Lo| c Wacquant perceptively analyzes the interplay between negative determinants and positive attractions for the case of boxing in the ``Black ghetto.'' In ``A Sacred Weapon. Bodily Capital and Bodily Labor among Professional Boxers,'' in Cheryl Cole, John Loy, and Michael A. Messner, editors, Exercising Power: Making the Remaking the Body (Albany: State University of New York Press). 55. Pierre Bourdieu, ``Understanding,'' Theory, Culture and Society 13/2 (1996): 34. 56. See Karen E. Paige and Jeery M. Paige, The Politics of Reproductive Ritual (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981). 57. The residents of Villa Paraiso who attend these rallies not only share a network of relationships and a category (they are poor people living in the same barrio) but also claim a common ^ although multifarious ^ political identity: they dene themselves as Peronists and vote for the Peronist party. Thereby the rallies are (also) an expression of a deep-seated and resilient political identity: that of ``being Peronist.'' Further research is needed on the diverse ways in which problem-solving networks symbolically reproduce and recongure the multiple Peronist identities embedded in this web of relations. 58. Wacquant, ``The Pugilistic Point of View.'' 59. The charge against the ``political use'' of food programs has been noted in other popular barrios in Argentina; see, for example, Laura Golbert, ``La asistencia alimentaria: Un nuevo problema para los Argentinos,'' in Susana Lumi, Laura Golbert, Emilio Tenti Fanfani, editors, La Mano Izquierda del Estado. La asistencia n los beneciarios (Buenos Aires: Min vila, 1992). social segu o y Da 60. A right, according to Tilly, is an ``enforceable claim, the reciprocal of obligations,'' Charles Tilly, ``Democracy is a Lake,'' in Roads from Past to Future (Maryland: Rowman & Littleeld, 1997), 198. Rights are ``enforceable claims on the delivery of goods, services, or protections by specic others. Rights exist when one party can eectively insist that another deliver goods, services, or protections, and third parties will act to reinforce (or at least not to hinder) their delivery.'' When the ``object of claims is a state or its agent and the successful claimant qualies by simple membership in a broad category of persons subject to the state's jurisdiction,'' those claims ^ or, entitlements ^ become citizenship rights. Charles Tilly, ``Where do Rights Come From?'' Center for the Study of Social Change, New School for Social Research. Working Paper 98 (July 1990), 1. 61. Other works have shown that, in many other lower-class neighborhoods of Conurbano Bonaerense, politics is experienced as something distant, linked to delusion and trickery, especially among the youth. The distribution of drugs among youth groups by local politicians in poor neighborhoods has also been noted as quite generalized. See, for example, Silvia Kuasn osky and Dalia Szulik, ``Desde los s que una rgenes de la juventud,'' in Mario Margulis, editor, La juventud es ma ma palabra (Buenos Aires: Biblos, 1996). The participation in political rallies and soccer barras bravas has proven to be a free source of drugs (marijuana and cocaine) and alcohol for many youngsters. 62. Although I do not agree with her understanding of Peronist clientelist practices, additional evidence of distribution of goods as a means of ``purchasing votes'' can be found in Nancy Powers, ``Popular Discourse about Politics and Democracy in Argentina,'' paper delivered at the Latin American Studies Association Conference, September, 1995. 63. See, for example, Albert Hirschman, Getting Ahead Collectively: Grassroots Experiences in Latin America (New York: Pergamon Press), Beatriz de Heredia, ``Politica, Familia y Comunidad,'' paper delivered at the Encuentro Internacional de Antropolog| a, IDES, Buenos Aires, August, 1996.

334
64. William Foote Whyte, Street Corner Society: The Social Structure of an Italian Slum (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1943). 65. Launched almost ten years ago, this state-funded program intended to strengthen community organization in poor neighborhoods through the subsidized development of productive micro-enterprises. In the slum, some of the funds of the program were captured by Peronist brokers, becoming an extra source for their inner circles. 66. Margaret Somers, ``The Narrative Constitution of Identity: A Relational and Network Approach,'' Theory and Society 23 (1994): 605^649. 67. Wacquant, ``The Pugillistic Point of View.'' 68. Tilly, From Mobilization to Revolution. 69. Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice. 70. Alfred Schutz, Collected Papers (The Hague: Martinus Nijho, 1962), 143. 71. Charles Tilly, ``Political Identities,'' Working Paper 212 (Center for Studies of Social Change, New School for Social Research, 1995). 72. To use James Scott's expression from Domination and the Arts of Resistance. Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). 73. See Paul Willis, Learning to Labor (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983). 74. The dominated, as Bourdieu constantly notes, ``are very often condemned to such dilemmas, to choices between two solutions which, each from a certain standpoint, are equally bad ones,'' Pierre Bourdieu and Lo| c Wacquant, An Invitation to Reexive Sociology (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1992), 82. 75. Robert K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure (Glencoe, Ill.: The Free Press, 1949), 74. 76. Robert K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure, 74. 77. See Thomas Guterbock, Machine Politics in Transition. 78. Luis Roniger, Hierarchy and Trust. 79. Ayse Gu nes-Ayata, ``Clientelism: Premodern, Modern, Postmodern'' in Roniger and Gu nes-Ayata, Democracy, Clientelism and Civil Society. 80. V. Tellis-Novak, ``Power and Solidarity: Clientage in Domestic Service,'' Current Anthropology 24/1 (1983): 67^69. 81. James Scott, ``Political Clientelism: A Bibliographical Essay,'' in Steen Schmidt et al., Friends, Followers, and Factions ; James Scott and Benedict J. Kerkvliet, ``How Traditional Rural Patrons Lose Legitimacy: A Theory with Special Reference to Southeast Asia,'' in Steen Schmidt et al., Friends, Followers, and Factions. 82. See my ``Performing Evita. A Tale of Two Peronist Women,'' forthcoming in Journal of Contemporary Ethnography. 83. Pierre Bourdieu, ``On the Family as a Realized Category,'' Theory, Culture and Society 13/3 (1996): 20. 84. Bourdieu, Outline, of a Theory of Practice, 81. 85. Marcel Mauss, The Gift, 74. 86. Robert Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure, 71. 87. See Steve Levitsky, ``Institutionalization and Peronism,'' Party Politics 4/1 (1998): 77^92.