The country’s
president has drawn little sympathy in spite of ill-health
By John Paul
Rathbone and Benedict Mander
When Pope Francis held an
audience with Cristina Fernández in March,
his first with any head of state, the meeting of the two Argentines was a study
in contrasts. While the former was serene and dressed in white, Ms Fernández
wore widow’s weeds and appeared coquettish, her eyes circled in kohl.
“Oops, can I do
that?” she said, touching his sleeve and giggling like a schoolgirl. “I never
imagined I would meet the Pope,” she mumbled, crossing her hands across her
chest.
It was an unusual
show of humility from a politician known for her imperious style and sharp
tongue. As she once said: “The only thing to fear is God – and me a little,
too.” But this week Ms Fernández was cast in another unfamiliar role: that of
invalid.
Following a bump
to her head two months ago, Ms Fernández, 60, was diagnosed with blood on the
brain and rushed to hospital. Although this is
a routine procedure, her forced exit has provoked a near constitutional crisis
and brought Argentina’s problems to a
climax worthy of an Almodóvar movie.
Ms Fernández’s
populist model, part of the region’s “pink
tide”, is receding. The Asian-driven boom in commodity
prices, which has powered Latin America’s third-biggest economy for a decade,
is ending. Ignored by world leaders – delegates at last month’s Group of 20 leading
nations meeting in St Petersburg unplugged their headphones as she spoke – her
popularity has also slumped at home. Ms Fernandez’s frequent migraines and
delicate health have led some to wonder if she is a “woman on the verge of a
nervous breakdown”.
The debut of this
bus driver’s daughter on the world stage, when her husband, Néstor Kirchner,
unexpectedly won the 2003 election, was almost as dramatic. They met as law
students, and before entering politics shared a legal practice recovering
foreclosed properties – the perfect background in a country that had defaulted on $100bn of
bonds.