Every Wednesday in Buenos Aires, a familiar scene unfolds on the city’s bustling streets: baton-wielding riot police face off against a determined group of protesters. Yet, these are not the typical youthful activists one might expect. Instead, the crowd is composed largely of elderly Argentines—gray-haired, wrinkled, and sometimes unsteady on their feet—who gather week after week to demand what they say is a matter of survival: a meaningful increase in their pensions.
Among them is Ricardo Migliavacca, age 87, who recently found himself nearly toppled by a police advance. “For God’s sake! How disgraceful!” he shouted, clinging to his sturdy blue Zimmer frame for support, according to AFP. Migliavacca is just one of hundreds of pensioners who have become the face of a growing protest movement targeting the economic policies of Argentina’s right-wing President Javier Milei.
Their cause is straightforward but urgent. Argentina’s retirees are struggling to keep up with the country’s relentless inflation, which has driven up the cost of basic goods far beyond the reach of many on fixed incomes. Nearly half of the nation’s 7.8 million retirees receive a near-minimum pension of about US$260 per month—a sum estimated to be less than a third of what is needed to cover basic living expenses for the elderly, as reported by The Taipei Times.
“You can’t live like this. Especially not as an elderly person. People need moments of joy,” said 82-year-old Beatriz Blanco, who has become something of a folk hero among the protesters. She attends rallies wearing a shirt emblazoned with “gangster retiree”—a nickname bestowed by government officials who accused her of assaulting police officers. “Watch out, she’s dangerous!” one man joked as she passed, waving her walking stick in greeting.
For many of these pensioners, activism is nothing new. Their political engagement often stretches back to the 1960s, when Argentina was lurching between democracy and military dictatorship. “I still maintain that spirit of rebellion,” Migliavacca told AFP. But he and his peers insist that their protests are about more than nostalgia for past struggles. The acute financial need is real and immediate.
President Javier Milei, who took office in 2023, has made no secret of his commitment to radical cost-cutting and economic reform. He famously once brought a chainsaw on stage as a theatrical symbol of his zeal for slashing government spending. Twice, he has vetoed moves by Congress to raise pensions, insisting that fiscal discipline must come before popularity. “My task is not to seem good, it is to do good, even if the cost is being called cruel,” Milei declared in a recent speech, as quoted by both AFP and The Taipei Times.
These tough measures have not been limited to pension policy. Since assuming office, Milei has slashed funding across the public sector, affecting schools, hospitals, research centers, and Argentina’s already-fragile social safety net. While some credit him with curbing inflation and securing a new bailout from the International Monetary Fund, the cuts have been deeply felt by the country’s most vulnerable citizens.
The government’s response to the pensioners’ protests has drawn sharp criticism both at home and abroad. Each week, police employ tear gas, sprays, batons, rubber bullets, and water cannons to disperse the crowds. According to Amnesty International, 1,155 people were injured during protests last year, including 33 who were struck by rubber bullets in the head or face. The government does not release official figures on injuries or arrests, but the violence is plain to see. During one recent clash, an elderly man writhed on the pavement as helpers tried to soothe his tear-gas-burned eyes, while, just meters away, a young couple in a glass-walled gym continued their workout, seemingly oblivious to the chaos outside.
Blanco herself was seriously injured in March 2025, when a policeman pushed her and she struck her head on the pavement, leaving her lying in a pool of blood. “I thought I was dead,” she recalled. “Then came the anger and pain of being unable to fix anything.” Despite her injuries, she remains undeterred, returning to protest again and again, driven by what she describes as both “anger and pain.”
Political scientist Ivan Schuliaquer, speaking to AFP, observed that the pensioners “are not showing a willingness to physically defend themselves, yet they are constantly being beaten.” The sight of elderly protesters being manhandled by police has become a powerful—and, for many, deeply disturbing—symbol of the current political climate in Argentina. “There are worries that the harsh security response to such a vulnerable part of the population could be desensitizing Argentines to political violence,” Schuliaquer warned.
Historian Felipe Pigna went even further, describing the government’s actions as unprecedented in Argentina’s modern era. “What this government is doing, no one has done in the democratic era, no one,” Pigna stated, according to AFP. The crackdown on pensioners has, perhaps ironically, made them one of the most prominent and emotive sources of opposition to Milei’s administration.
Yet, for all the controversy, Milei’s popularity remains surprisingly resilient. As of August 2025, his approval rating hovers around 40 percent. Supporters argue that his tough medicine is necessary to rescue Argentina from decades of economic mismanagement and spiraling inflation. They point to early signs of stabilization and the renewed confidence of international lenders as evidence that the country is finally moving in the right direction.
Critics, however, contend that the costs of these reforms are being borne disproportionately by those least able to shoulder them. The weekly images of frail pensioners facing down riot police have become a rallying point for broader discontent with Milei’s policies. For many Argentines, the question is not just whether the president’s reforms will succeed, but whether the price is simply too high—especially when it comes to the dignity and well-being of the elderly.
In the end, the standoff on Buenos Aires’ streets is about more than pensions or even economic policy. It is a test of Argentina’s social contract, a measure of how the nation treats its most vulnerable citizens. As the protests continue and the government shows no sign of relenting, the world is left watching—and, perhaps, wondering how much more these pensioners will endure in their fight for a basic standard of living.