Readers who have picked up this book have probably already challenged one common assumption: that mechanisms of direct democracy are largely irrelevant in Argentina1. Here we will show that, on the contrary, throughout the 20th century these instruments were incorporated at an early stage into provincial legislation. Their design, use and disuse reveal institutional tensions that allow us to understand, from an unexplored perspective, how power and legitimacy are constructed in the country. This perspective also helps to explain why a form of representation that is increasingly disconnected from citizen’s formal participation faces growing difficulties in sustaining itself.
Direct democracy is desired by some and feared by others. In the West, the debate on referendums, recall votes, initiatives and popular consultations has been situated between the poles that separate the idealisation of power ‘of the people’ from the authoritarian dystopia. On the one hand, this idealisation stems from the Rousseauian myth of a general will formed by free and equal individuals[1] —a founding sovereignty that has never existed in modern societies. Its most frequently cited example comes from classical Athens (450–322 BC), which experimented with forms of direct participation, albeit with extensive exclusions and combined with forms of representation.[2] On the other hand, authoritarian dystopia arises from the instrumentalisation of the will of the people by leaders such as Napoleon I, Napoleon III or Adolf Hitler, who organised referendums to concentrate even more power in their own hands.
In contemporary political systems, a network of institutions puts representative democracy into practice through the participation of the electorate. This participation may be restricted or expanded; in other words, it may be limited to the election of representatives or grant citizens the ability to intervene in debate or decision-making. MDDs enable citizens to express their views through voting on matters of political significance —constitutional amendments and legislation— as well as on the continuity in office of elected authoritites (recall). In these pages, we will map the ideological, regulatory and political presence of these instruments within the Argentine debate and institutional framework.
The constitutional debates in the United States of America in 1787 – a source of inspiration for Argentina – addressed the referendum, the popular initiative and the recall of elected officials, but rejected them. By contrast, they were incorporated into the French Constitution of 1793, although this never came into force, having been suspended by the National Convention in the context of the Revolutionary War. Without a revolution and with greater success in their subsequent development, these mechanisms were introduced in Switzerland with the Constitution of 1848, and have had a strong presence ever since at all levels of government: local, cantonal and federal.
What happened in Latin America? During the 19th century, plebiscitary practices were in place, which began to diversify in the 20th century. However, there were hardly any studies on the subject.[3] Things began to change with the third wave of democratisation, from the mid-1970s onwards. Research into direct democratic mechanisms gained prominence as they were incorporated into the constitutions of all countries in the region.[4] Furthermore, some referendums held since the late 20th century attracted attention due to their transformative potential, whether positive or negative. Populist leaders have resorted to referendums to circumvent constitutional obstacles (to cite one example, Rafael Correa in Ecuador in 2007), and deep-seated political and social crises (Peru 2018, Chile 2020) have been attempted to be resolved through reforms promoted by this means.
More than one Latin American dictatorship called for referendums: Bolivia in 1931, Chile in 1978 and 1980, amongst others. Democratic governments, too, have resorted to referendums in an attempt to prevent coups d’état, as happened in Chile in 1925 and in Brazil in 1963. Even major transitional agreements were legitimised through referendums in Venezuela and Colombia in 1957, and in Ecuador in 1978.[5] It was not only in situations of crisis and transition, or under authoritarian or populist leaderships, even with strong political parties MDDs were held, as demonstrated by the case of Uruguay, the regional leader in the number of plebiscites (as they are known locally) held from the early 20th century to the present day.[6]
The Argentine case is often viewed in isolation from these dynamics. Consequently, it has not received much attention from local scholars, who consider it irrelevant. This interpretation is mistaken.
In history books, the first recorded instance of a mechanism of direct democracy in Argentina refers to the plebiscite of 13 April 1835, through which the governor of Buenos Aires, Juan Manuel de Rosas, assumed ‘the sum of public power’.[7] The Rosismo left an indelible mark on the vision of democracy and the republic held by the intellectuals of its time and, for years, excluded direct democracy from the national debate. A century and a half later, President Raúl Alfonsín (Radical Civic Union, UCR, 1983–1989) initiated the Beagle Islands plebiscite. A decade later, Carlos Saúl Menem (Justicialist Party, PJ, 1989–1999) attempted to hold a referendum to secure his re-election. He suspended it once he secured the support of the main opposition party, the UCR, for constitutional reform. This paved the way for the legislative changes of 1994. Thirty years later, in January 2024, lacking a majority in Congress that would allow him to push through a package of reforms, Javier Milei said he would put it to a public vote. The announcement never went beyond political rhetoric.
By contrast, the provincial landscape is far more diverse and prolific, both in terms of regulation and practice. Some referendums foreshadowed regional patterns, such as the one called by Néstor Kirchner in 1998 during his term as governor of Santa Cruz to enable his indefinite re-election. Although the mechanism was not provided for by law, it was put to a vote with the backing of the judiciary.
In 2005, in the City of Buenos Aires, Mayor Aníbal Ibarra promoted a recall referendum with which he sought to re-legitimise his position, although it never came to a vote.[8] Also noteworthy are the referendums and initiatives on environmental issues, which are numerous across the country. There have even been unusual cases, such as the one launched on 25 April 1999 by Eduardo Duhalde, the Peronist governor of the province of Buenos Aires, who called a non-binding referendum in his district to thwart President Menem’s attempt at re-election. This referendum, deemed unconstitutional because it did not relate to a ‘matter of special importance to the province’ (as stipulated in Article 67 of the provincial Constitution), but rather to an issue of national scope, was cancelled by its initiator (on two occasions). Many more examples will be discussed throughout the book.
What factors explain the introduction of mechanisms for direct democracy into legislation? Is it ideology or the struggle for power? Are these political tools or smokescreens? In what contexts are attempts made to implement them, and what explains their success or failure? What do they reveal about the Argentine political arena? Could they gain greater influence in a political system undergoing transformation?
Our hypothesis is that, at the national level, citizen participation has become caught in the tension between an elitist model (the legacy of the ‘conservative order’, analysed by Natalio Botana) and forms of populist or corporatist representation that do not grant citizens the capacity for agency. In the provinces, the picture is varied, with patterns of citizen mobilisation that are often thwarted and others—more prevalent—where governors exploit such mobilisation for their own ends.
Our analysis focuses on the national and sub-national levels, from the first introduction of such measures in Corrientes (1913) to the recent constitutional reform in Santa Fe (2025). To this end, we have reviewed secondary sources, analysed legislation and compiled an original database on provincial initiatives, enabling us to place the Argentine case in dialogue with regional and global experiences.
This book is intended not only for specialists but for anyone interested in the challenges facing Argentine democracy; we have therefore endeavoured to avoid an overly academic style and not to overload the text with legal references and data. At the end, in an appendix, tables listing mechanisms and voting results are included for those wishing to explore the subject in greater depth.
The book is organised into this introduction, seven chapters and a conclusion. The first chapter examines why and under what conditions political actors might have incentives to alter the balance of power. MDDs have been identified as a potential solution to remedy the shortcomings of contemporary democracies. However, their introduction or reform involves various political actors with often conflicting incentives, whilst also incorporating the public as an actor with veto power. Thus, a mandatory referendum to ratify constitutional reforms may result in the decision taken by the authorities being rejected by the popular vote (as happened to Hugo Chávez in 2007). This section provides a review of the current state of research on the subject.
“The Impossible Veto: A Historical Perspective”, the second chapter, focuses on the key ideas that shaped the role attributed to citizens in the country. Alberdi’s mistrust of popular participation reflects a conservative republican tradition, in which institutional stability (controlled by insiders) has taken precedence over inclusion. Despite their distinctive characteristics, neither the populist movements of Hipólito Yrigoyen nor those of Juan Domingo Perón altered these dynamics; much less so did the military governments. From this examination of the role attributed to institutional citizen participation across different historical periods emerges one of the central hypotheses of this book: elitism without popular support versus popular support controlled from above; two models that appear to have run their course since 2023.
The third chapter, ‘Representation and Participation in Argentina (1983–2025)’, explores the relationship between these two terms in greater depth. A number of ideal models are defined—dialogical, corporative-associative, technocratic and populist representation—to analyse the leadership styles of Presidents Raúl Alfonsín, Carlos Menem, Néstor Kirchner, Cristina Fernández, Mauricio Macri and Javier Milei. Each of these styles is linked to a form of citizen participation (more or less active and autonomous). With the exception of Alfonsín’s attempt, we find that models of representation which limit citizen participation or subordinate it to the political agenda of the day have predominated.
Whilst at national level no government – whether dictatorial or democratic, republican or populist – accorded greater significance to direct democratic mechanisms (MDD), the sub-national landscape presents a different picture: 18 provinces currently regulate mandatory referendums; 22, popular consultations; and 3, popular initiatives (plus a further 3 that do so only for their municipalities). The fourth chapter, ‘The myth of rarity: direct democracy in the provinces (1913–2025)’, examines the historical and current constitutions that have regulated MDDs and classifies the established mechanisms.
The findings contradict some common assumptions, such as the notion that the regulation of these mechanisms is attributed to the left or to progressivism. Thus, it was not the rising Radical Party but the conservative parties that promoted direct democracy in the first provinces (Corrientes, Mendoza). However, the Radicals soon joined in, with constitutions that were short-lived due to the federal intervention of 1935 ordered by President Agustín Justo (Santa Fe, Entre Ríos). Nor was it Peronism, but rather the post-coup reaction of 1955, that introduced direct democracy mechanisms when it revised the constitutions of the new provinces (Chaco, Neuquén and Misiones).
‘Who can stop the governor? The uses of direct democracy in the provinces’, the fifth chapter, compiles and analyses formal attempts to trigger referendums. Between 1987 and 2025, at least 16 Argentine provinces triggered or initiated the procedure for activating direct democracy mechanisms on 23 occasions, to which must be added municipal-level exercises in at least six provinces. The most commonly used instruments in the former case were popular consultations (19), and the most frequent objective was re-election, followed by referendums (4). None were citizen-initiated. Fourteen were put to a vote (8 approved, 6 rejected) and nine were suspended or dismissed. The overall picture emerging from these practices is one of blocked potential for citizen counter-power. The flip side is the consolidation of power where the rule of law is weakest. In between, various practices reveal institutional designs aimed at protecting the status quo; a notable example is Mendoza.
Chapter Six, ‘The latent recall: from the ideal of citizen control to partisan use’, places the Argentine experience with this mechanism in dialogue with regional and global contexts. Currently, 15 provinces have incorporated the recall mechanism into their constitutions. In turn, we have identified 15 attempts to trigger a recall, 12 of which took place in the province of Córdoba. Within the framework of accountability theory, in these processes the political will of those in power (whether in favour or against) continues to play a fundamental role in the success or failure of the recall.
Chapter Seventh, ‘The agenda initiative: a story of yet another frustration?’, deals with a semi-direct mechanism. Although it is not included in our definition of MDD as it does not trigger a vote, we decided to consider it as it is the result of a debate on the incorporation of the popular initiative (which does trigger a vote). Indeed, among the institutions recommended by the Council for the Consolidation of Democracy in 1986 was the ‘popular initiative’, presented as an agenda initiative (since it only enabled the electorate to submit draft legislation to the legislature), but which added that, should the bill not be considered, a binding referendum would be called, thus becoming a hybrid mechanism.
In the 1994 reform, and in most of the provisions introduced at provincial level, the agenda initiative was ultimately reduced to a semi-direct mechanism: limited to the submission of draft legislation to the legislature, with no provision for a vote. In this way, the instrument lost all capacity for popular decision-making. Of Argentina’s 24 provinces, 21 mention it in their current constitutions, but an analysis of institutional designs and practices paints a picture steeped in pessimism. Certainly, a semi-direct mechanism, designed to open up dialogue between those in power and the governed whilst leaving the decision exclusively to the former, does not work: almost no initiative has been successful; but not only that, even the process of accessing information about them is complex, which highlights the almost purely decorative role they play in most constitutions.
In Argentina, direct democracy is not a story of mass plebiscites or referendums that change the country’s course overnight. However, it has played a more significant role than is commonly believed. This is precisely what we seek to demonstrate in the following pages, in which we also explore the role such mechanisms might play against a backdrop of political change and public disaffection.
From Menem’s threat in 1993 to the introduction of indefinite re-election in Santa Cruz in 1998, via the largely unsuccessful environmental consultations in municipalities in the south and north of the country, this is a convoluted narrative, made up of failed attempts, strategic moves, local innovations and various manoeuvres designed to prevent the public from having the final say. Indeed, MDDs have been the scene of power struggles, political creativity and, at times, sheer pretence.
The concluding chapter, ‘Direct democracy as a broken mirror of representation’, brings the journey to a close by bringing together over a century of national and provincial history. This serves to show that, far from being neutral tools, these mechanisms reflect the ideological tensions inherent in Argentina’s elitist and tightly controlled institutional design. Understanding their history not only sheds light on the past: it helps us anticipate how they might be used in the future.
[1] Rousseau, J.J. (2014).
[2] All adult males over the age of eighteen took part in the popular assembly (Ekklesia), which decided on laws, war and peace. The members of the Council of 500 (Boulé) were chosen by lot from each of the 50 tribes and were responsible for drawing up the assembly’s agenda and supervising the magistrates. Members of the magistracies were also chosen by lot; however, the strategists, who held key military and diplomatic roles, were appointed by vote, and some, such as Pericles, secured re-election on several occasions (Sinclair, R. K., 1999).
[3] Lissidini, A. (2015).
[4] Ruth-Lovell, S. and Welp, Y. (2024).
[5] Welp, Y. and Ruth, S. (2017a).
[6] Lissidini, A. (2021).
[7] Ternavasio, M. (2021).
[8] Eberhardt, M. L. (2020).
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