That thing they call "The Crack"

During the Martín Fierro Awards ceremony in 2013, Jorge Lanata received his award for Best Journalistic Work for his program Periodismo para Todos (PPT). On that August night, he appeared for the second time (of four awards the program would receive), and in his words of thanks, he used the term "rift," which attempts to explain the political, social, cultural, and even emotional divide that rouses society. And while, in that same speech , he argued that it was not new and could be traced throughout the country's history, it turns out that we cannot find it in all of the country's political construction. In 1982, after the Military Junta renounced its political project, a national euphoria unified the country behind the return to democracy. Also unified were the trials of the military juntas, the Alfonsin regime, and the Southern Plan, to name a few. They had detractors, correctors, and interpreters playing in the arena of rhetoric and political debate. Here, a point must be made. No, there wasn't always a rift.

The common denominator of what we call "the rift," this sense of irreconcilable division, has a privileged place in communication that is often overlooked. These differences are exposed in the public space by communication, on social media, in the media, in journalism, and of course, in politics. This doesn't mean it's a fantastic, innovative, or unfounded creation. It just so happens that our species, ever since we attained the capacity and public sense of argument, has organized events in discourse under distinct ideas and values. Curiously, we reached this point with the agreement that we had to survive, and evidence shows that this was quite successful.

Let's skip the references to the importance the Greeks (and the Arab world) gave to grammar and rhetoric to bring us to the present day. Dominique Wolton is a renowned French intellectual (born in Cameroon) in the field of communication, specializing in political communication. Wolton proposes thinking about communication in the public space as a symbolic realm where civil and political society converge. Distinguishing the three moments is fundamental, but even more so, limiting the topics that can enter the public space. Not because I think censorship is the path to coexistence, but to maintain the specificity of political disputes within the corresponding institutions, "...the risk is that political vocabulary and dichotomies invade the entire public space and become the only way of apprehending reality."

What follows is an uncomfortable and unpopular assertion. The blame lies not with politics, nor with politicians, nor with the media, nor with journalists, but with something that constructs the image of these groups of people: political communication. Professionals in this field are the ones who primarily shape the candidate's image, and they must do so in a context shaken by several crises that constitute our present. Those of the state, the family, education, employment, coupled with the digitalization of life, which adds its share of uncertainty and doubts about the horizons of reality; the centrality of the market. All of this under the loss of importance of facts, truth, or any reason or agreement on which we can converge as a society. A common sense.

Jean Marie Domenach, another Frenchman, is well-known for his systematization of the arts of disseminating ideas. In his renowned work, Political Propaganda, he describes five rules that could perfectly fit those circulating in the public sphere. To cite just one example, the first can be recognized almost line by line: simplification and the creation of a single enemy. Even Joseph Goebbels's own definition of propaganda doesn't seem too outdated: "The essence of propaganda is to win people over to (our) idea. (And to make this visible) in such a sincere, such a vital way that, in the end, they succumb to it in such a way that they can never abandon it."

It may seem like an exaggeration, an exaggeration of a few facts we consider to evaluate this phenomenon called "The Rift." But beyond politics, this idea of simplifying reality and creating an enemy in the opposition is also profitable. It's possible to recognize this in professional soccer. In soccer communication, in soccer storytelling, reducing a tournament to a rivalry between two teams is often very convenient for everyone involved. While the underlying scenario—having two big teams—is recognized, it focuses attention and saves effort in fan selection. Simplification and creating an enemy are effective in generating statistical volumes that can be monetized, in votes or money. But this exercise generates a residue, a waste. Passionately participating in one of the poles generates security, identity, and belonging in a time when all of these are difficult to find. To fervently participate in the River Plate or Boca Juniors stands (whichever team it is), to inhabit only one of the spaces within the stands, leaves out football in its entirety, in all its variations and differences. The residue is football as a sport, just as in politics, the public sphere as a space we had in common; it is the residue of "the rift."

* The author has a degree in Social Communication and is a teacher.