A rock is hurled at an open-topped vehicle 20km south of Buenos Aires. The nation’s radical right wing president, Javier Milei, ducks. He dodges the projectile and continues to wave and smile.
But then a second rock almost skims his face. Then a vegetable. The smile almost fades, but the waves and borderline aggressive handshakes continue. He’s campaigning in Peronist (opposition) territory for Argentina’s mid-term elections, coming up in October.
He’s hoping Argentinians will continue to vote in favour of his public spending cuts, represented by his infamous chainsaw, which he wields as a gimmick. He’s brought down inflation, but the same government cuts also plunged some public sector workers into poverty. Last month, Kemi Badenoch said Milei’s small-state government would be a “template” for the UK.
Standing in the car next to Milei is his sister, Karina. He instructs the crowd to give her an “ovation”. She is unelected but influential, and acts as her brother’s campaign manager and spiritual adviser – he calls her “the boss”. She’s also partly responsible for those rocks and vegetables being thrown by angry crowds. Eventually security whisks away the ever-more controversial siblings.
This scene unfolded as Karina Milei was accused of pocketing funds destined for people with disabilities. Leaked tapes feature Diego Spagnuolo, head of Argentina’s National Disability Agency and a former Milei lawyer. He claims that Karina Milei has been taking kickbacks, pocketing a 3% commission from each pharmaceutical contract. Both the president and his sister deny any wrongdoing, claiming the allegations are “all lies”.
The Mileis have a deep spiritual belief in other-worldly things like psychics, mediums and tarot readers. Having lived in the country under Milei’s rule, I can’t help but wonder if the scandal and the spiritualism are linked.
Javier Milei claims that it was his beloved dead dog, Conan the Barbarian, who persuaded him to run for president – from the dead. Conan, who died in 2017, was the president’s deepest love and his closest confidante. After Conan’s death, Milei hired a medium to “speak” to Conan on the other side. Conan reportedly came through and relayed God’s mission for him to become president of Argentina. Now he is indeed president, the confirmation bias has persuaded him to continue trusting mystics on big decisions.
I discovered in the research for my non-fiction book, The Psychic Tests, that high-achieving believers (CEOs, world leaders, police detectives, superstars) are often paranoid people who feel they can trust no one in this human world, and must resort to the other-worldly or pseudoscience for reassurance and validation.
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In Milei’s case, he resorts to dogs. He has named his four other cloned dogs after right wing economists. His medium helps him seek their counsel, and that of the late Conan, on campaign and policy matters. He calls this canine cabinet his “strategists”.
As for Karina, his bond with her is partly a survival technique, as the two were unified against an abusive father. If the canine spirits fall short, he resorts to his sister’s tarot-reading skills to evaluate who he can trust. She is, apparently, renowned for her penchant for tarot.
It sounds unfeasibly bonkers. But then the world’s first ever (appointed) female president, Isabel Perón (Juan Perón’s wife after Evita), also allegedly relied on psychic advice while in office. José López Rega, her minister for social welfare, was said to exercise Rasputin-like power and influence over Isabel Perón during her presidency, and used both this and his unique access to become the de facto political boss of Argentina, giving her mystical advice on ministerial appointments and policy decisions via “readings”.
Tarot in particular is big business today in Argentina. Every lamppost advertises the services of professional tarot readers, and Argentinians take it pretty seriously. Those who are into it will ask their reader for advice on big decisions, including on careers and finances.
I’ve met several people in Buenos Aires who do this as their full-time job. I’ve often been asked what my star sign is on dates and by new friends. I have had to suppress an eye-roll every time, sighing out the word “Libra” begrudgingly, knowing I may be unfairly judged for something beyond my control.
Now, in Argentine politics, when decisions are made that defy all ethics and common sense – such as the alleged theft from disabled people – I often wonder: did the spirits tell them to do it? Paradoxically, it’s sometimes the only rational explanation.
Gary Nunn is a freelance journalist who lived in Buenos Aires from 2023-25
