On Sunday at 9 p.m., Congress will not be a venue: it will be a platform. When Javier Milei opens the ordinary sessions, the chamber will have less of an atmosphere of a republican ceremony than a hot classic of Argentine soccer. The President, true to his style, has not spared adjectives when referring to opposition deputies. He called them “fiscal degenerates”, “criminals” or simple “breed”. And in politics, as in football, offenses are not filed: they are charged.
The ruling party arrives with a clear premise: show institutional authority, demand fiscal balance and capitalize on the narrative of order. The hard opposition, on the other hand, seems to follow another logic. After a 2025 in which Peronism knew how to show off its capacity for parliamentary damage—with laws contrary to the surplus and decrees that were annulled—, the reality of the start of sessions in 2026 is diametrically opposite. After the victory in October, Milei exhibits his best political moment since he took office in December 2023. He has control of the Legislature with the support of allied governors, with whom he sealed the labor reform and could even think about expanding the Court and appointing a hundred judges.
Therefore, in the waning Peronism, some conclude that regulatory tools have been exhausted. “The only thing left to do is rot it”a legislator slipped last week, a phrase that summarizes a more emotional than parliamentary strategy.
The labor reform session was a preview. In the middle of the debate, deputy Florencia Carignano ripped out the stenographers’ cables to interrupt and delay the vote. The scene had some desperate performance and some internal message: If there are no numbers, there will be noise. The gesture, beyond the anecdote, set the tone. And that tone could be replicated on Sunday, with live cameras and guaranteed ratings.
Martín Menem sensed it. On Thursday he met with the bloc presidents with the intention of agreeing on a minimum truce for the presidential visit. There was no agreement. From Unión por la Patria they announced that they will exercise “freedom of expression” because, they argue, Milei insults them. An allied legislator described the climate starkly: “We all agreed to self-control our impulses. Except for the UP block, which was fussy and uncomfortable”. Another representative close to the Government was more direct: “They are going to look for the quilombo”. And the final warning sounded almost football-like: “Be careful, Menem, because they want to rot you”.
Well-known names appear in that first line of clash: Cecilia Moreau, Juan Grabois, Julia Strada, Carignano, Paula Penacca, Agustina Propato, Carlos Castagneto. Marcela Pagano could be added to them, who knew how to integrate the Buenos Aires ruling party but today orbits as an ally of Kirchnerism (she came under suspicion for leaking internal discussions). The opposition bloc is not homogeneous, but it shares an intuition: If the President turns the venue into a scene of grievances, there will be a response.
On the libertarian side there is no excess meekness either. Menem promised to contain his own—Lilia Lemoine, Lisandro Almirón, Nicolás Mayoraz—who tend to overflow in the dialectical exchange. But that chain is fragile and comes loose quickly: In mileist logic, confrontation is not an accident: it is a method. The President understands conflict as political fuel and knows that his base celebrates verbal hand-to-hand combat.
The risk is that the inaugural speech, which constitutionally should set management priorities, will be buried under the foam of the scandal. Congress, instead of a deliberative forum, can mutate into barrabravas tribune where each group sings its hit and whistles at the rival. It would not be the first time that Argentine politics confuses intensity with effectiveness. But there is something different this time: the feeling that some no longer seek to persuade or block, but simply exhibit resistance.
On Sunday it will not only be Milei who will speak. The gestures, the murmurs, the signs, the applause and the boos will speak. The tense Argentina that finds in the venue a metaphor for itself will speak. The President will have the floor. The opposition the volume? And in this duel of decibels, something more than a speech will be at play: the real state of democratic coexistence will be put on stage.
If the epic of endurance prevails over institutional logic, Congress will be just a field with microphones. And politics, again, a classic where no one wants to tie.
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