A lifetime of financial crises: Argentine seniors ‘keep moving forward’

Inflation rates hit 114% in Argentina this May, cause for alarm in any economy. But here in Argentina? “Otra vez sopa!” “Soup again,” as the locals say, or “Here we go again.”

That’s because despite the sting of money losing value, this isn’t the first time Argentines have dealt with eye-watering levels of inflation. The economy has spiraled since 2018, racking up the third-highest inflation rate in the world and causing poverty not seen in decades. But it’s just the latest chapter in Argentina’s long history of chronic economic instability. 

“In all my years, I’ve never seen Argentina as bad as this,” says Estela Maris Rado, who is in her late 70s.

Most of today’s seniors were born well after Argentina’s economic golden age of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, back when the South American nation was better off than many European countries. Yet, if the lives of older Argentines have traced the country’s complicated economic contours, today that demographic also makes up one of the populations hardest hit by economic instability. Savings and retirement funds rarely keep up with inflation, and many older adults are faced with finding creative solutions to staying afloat – and not feeling like a burden on family and neighbors.

Ms. Rado and other older people say they’ve learned a thing or two about hanging on financially over the decades, from tightening belts and bartering goods to keeping family bonds tight. And despite today’s challenges, they’re tapping into that understanding of the past, with a lifetime of resilience defying the narrative of Argentine decline.

“What happened before will happen again,” says María Julieta Oddone, director of aging and society at the Latin American Social Sciences Institute. “But somehow, we come out the other side. ... It creates a sort of resilience.”

“Keep moving forward”

Four days a week, Luis Amelio wakes early to set up his white vendor tent in a park in San Telmo, a downtown area of Buenos Aires. The octogenarian was never able to buy a home and spends his retirement income, around 71,000 pesos, or $270, on rent. He’s bracing for his landlord to raise the price again this year.

“With the minimum retirement alone, no one gets by,” he says, eyeing his stand from afar as kids reach for brightly colored toys and tchotchkes. The other days of the week he joins his wife to help sell her knitted stuffed animals in another part of town.

Mr. Amelio blames the current state of the economy primarily on politicians he disagrees with and on repeated deals with the International Monetary Fund he sees as unfair. The Argentine economy has dealt with chronic structural issues for decades: economic stagnation; a governmental tendency to overprint money for social programs; and, recently, rapidly dwindling foreign reserves amid a historic drought that has slowed agricultural exports.

The crisis affects everyone differently. The restaurant industry is booming as those who have cash try to spend it before it loses value. But the uncertainty of this economic moment is taking a toll on the most vulnerable.

“It’s a very distressing situation,” says sociologist Eduardo Donza. The retirement system expanded in 2005 to include older adults who had never been able to contribute. That reduced poverty rates but also meant a larger spending burden for the government and less funding to go around.  

More than 85% of seniors earn the minimum retirement payment, one of the lowest in the region. It covers less than a third of the estimated cost of living for one person. These payments increase every few months, but inflation grows faster. Last year, inflation reached 94.8%, while pension and retirement payouts increased by 72.5%. The government announced supplemental vouchers for retirees for June, July, and August, in an effort to ease the challenges of inflation on this population.  

Still, some economists, like Oscar Cetrángolo, say the retirement scheme is “too generous,” given the government’s imposing fiscal imbalance.

“We buy only what’s necessary,” says Ms. Rado, who began working at 19. These days, instead of purchasing fruits and vegetables by the kilo, she buys one or two at a time. “The butcher’s shop? Bring whatever antiques you have from Grandma and pay with those,” she jokes.

No matter what, she says, “You have to keep moving forward despite everything.”

Holding out hope

With the front doors wide open at the Day Center No. 8, the sounds of board games and chatter spill out onto the sidewalk near the outer limits of Buenos Aires. Inside, older adults sit shoulder to shoulder around dozens of folding tables. It may look like any senior center, but to those who come regularly, it is a lifeline.

“There’s so much we don’t have,” says Reinaldo Galván, who first came to the center along with his wife, María Antonia, in April. This is one of 27 senior day centers across Buenos Aires, with services like meals and classes ranging from origami to folk dancing offered for free by the city. It allows for a sense of camaraderie that makes it easier to bear today’s economic stress.

“It changed our lives,” says Mr. Galván. “We used to live in silence. Here we began to talk again.”

Retirement money, though minimal, can be the only dependable source of income in a multigenerational household. Close to half the population works in the informal sector. In other cases, adult children help older parents who struggle to pay for basic goods and services.

“You don’t want to ask your kids for too much, because you don’t want to be a nuisance,” says Juan Alberto Gonzalez, another regular.

Argentina is seen as a place of low social cohesion, according to a 2021 study on why some countries seemed to weather the pandemic better than others. Researchers here looked closer in a follow-up study in 2022. They found that despite low levels of “linking social capital,” or a sense of connection between regular people and those in power, Argentines recorded high levels of “bonding social capital,” defined as a “reliance on family and kin networks for survival and for getting ahead.”

That’s a key difference between becoming poor in old age and those who have “always been poor,” says Ms. Oddone, from the social sciences institute. “The new ones sometimes don’t know how to ask for help.”

Ms. Rado sees Argentina as a place of solidarity. “The thing is that now we [retirees] can’t help much either because we don’t have anything left over. We’re at the limit,” she says. Her son left Argentina for Italy after the economic collapse of 2001. Her daughter is “paddling in dulce de leche” – trying hard to get by.

“We always hold out hope that some government will be able to fix this,” Ms. Rado says, “because Argentina is rich in so many things.”