Stunned and battered, I watched in disbelief as they rocked my car back and forth like a child’s toy. I could not stop their frenzy. Desperate, I instinctively shielded myself with my arms. To my horror, they tipped the car onto its side and shattered the windows with sticks. They doused the interior with gas and set it ablaze.
BUENOS AIRES, Argentina — On June 12, 2024, I arrived in Buenos Aires from Córdoba, Argentina, early in the morning. I intended to cover the proposed Ley de Bases bill—a package of reforms put forth by President Javier Milei at the Argentine Congress. As I approached the Congress building, I saw a large crowd gathered, clashing violently with security forces in opposition to the bill.
At 4:30 p.m., chaos escalated as the government grew closer to passing the law. Demonstrators frantically protested, hurling stones, tiles, and Molotov cocktails at the police. In retaliation, the police wielded batons, fired tear gas and rubber bullets, and deployed high-pressure water cannons. Suddenly, the barriers blocking street access came down. Caught in the turmoil, I stood troublingly close behind the police, unsure where to run.
[With the Ley de Bases bill, the Argentine president can declare a one-year state of economic emergency and assume special powers. Reforms include disbanding federal agencies and reductions in public spending. Additionally, it offers tax benefits for big projects in areas like oil and gas, forestry, and mining. Reduction of some worker protections are also included.]
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Argentina exhibits a long-standing tradition of resisting controversial laws. The recent bill, which empowered President Milei to dismantle certain state functions, ignited this tradition. Inside the Congress, senators in session neared a fourth recess. Meanwhile, outside the building, social organizations united in protest. The powerful image of their bodies standing together amidst fluttering flags was punctuated by their voices.
My journalism colleagues spoke of potential clashes between demonstrators and security forces. In the afternoon, the Senate debate heated up, agitating the crowd outside. Thousands chanted, “The homeland is not for sale, the homeland is defended!” Their voices echoed with drumbeats and chimes.
Fences almost completely surrounded Congress, and a strong police presence with hydrant trucks stationed at every corner secured the area. Media outlets set up numerous mobile units in front of the main entrances, capturing the unfolding events. As the votes cast approved the law, the situation outside reached a boiling point.
The announcement shocked the crowd, and extensive clashes erupted between police and demonstrators. Amidst the chaos, the scene quickly descended into a warzone as violence left multiple people injured. The shelling suffocated the air, leaving me struggling to breathe. The intense burning in my eyes blurred my vision, adding to the harrowing atmosphere.
As the police persisted, some people retreated and dispersed. However, the violence continued. Protesters set fire to containers and bins. Other small groups continued peaceful protests nearby while police blocked access to the Congress area.
After covering the event, I immediately wanted to leave. As I approached my car a couple blocks away, a group of demonstrators charged toward me. They concealed their faces with masks, brandishing sticks and stones. I assumed they targeted nearby police officers, but when I got into my car, they surrounded me.
One of them yanked open the door, grabbed my jacket, and delivered a menacing ultimatum: “Get out, or we’ll take you down.” Before I could react, they pulled me from the vehicle and threw me to the ground. I tried to crawl away as they hit me.
Stunned and battered, I watched in disbelief as they rocked my car back and forth like a child’s toy. I could not stop their frenzy. Desperate, I instinctively shielded myself with my arms. To my horror, they tipped the car onto its side and shattered the windows with sticks. They doused the interior with gas and set it ablaze.
Within seconds, my car became an inferno, billowing black smoke. Tears streamed down my face as I witnessed the nightmare unfold. Other media professionals and colleagues arrived and stared in disbelief. The rioters fled, leaving the turmoil behind. The fire brigade arrived just in time to extinguish the flames before the car exploded.
I cried out, “I don’t want a country like this for my children.” Pain and helplessness echoed in my voice. Minutes later, an ambulance siren wailed, and medical personnel rushed to attend to me. At 7:00 p.m., the demonstrators dispersed, and the authorities regained control of the space around the Congress. People scattered. Disoriented, I headed to one of the main streets and hailed a taxi to the hotel. I struggled to calm down and grasp the reality of what I went through.