LOW-RANK SOLDIER

Truly effective solutions, though? Maybe not as many.

Agustín is not just another kid from Rosario. Maybe, like many others his age, he’s a fan of local football idols and has the occasional teenage romance around the neighborhood. Maybe he prefers hanging out with his friends over staying home, and enjoys playing the odd pickup game now and then. But the truth is, Agustín is far from his parents, often runs errands for powerful and dangerous people at night—and what’s more, Agustín isn’t even his real name.

He’s about to turn sixteen. And that age is a dangerous one, because he’s on the brink of falling under the jurisdiction of the Juvenile Court. That doesn’t sit well with his grandfather, because Agustín is the one bringing in money at home, helping out his parents, who are both in prison. For Agustín, there is no other way of life. From a young age, his grandfather pushed him into crime, and the streets—along with his youth—drew him into the networks that control Rosario’s peripheral neighborhoods. These are the same networks that use kids to carry out tasks others won’t dare to, because jail is not an option. They turn them into cheap, violent labor. That’s how Agustín learned what it means to be part of a criminal organization. What it means to plan a crime, to feel powerful, to walk around with a pocket full of cash.

And what can stand against that? Because deep down, Agustín knows this is not the life he wants. Every night, he’s afraid it might be his last breath. He often chooses to talk with those who truly listen to him and want to help him get out—but he can’t. Because he feels the alternatives are garbage. And he’s not wrong. What can a practically absent State offer to a 15-year-old kid with nothing to lose?

That’s the real challenge politics must face: to imagine a solution for those trapped in extreme vulnerability, with the possibility of making unthinkable money in a single night right at their fingertips. To think beyond punitive measures, and design strategies based on the social and economic conditions of those being recruited into crime.

In the meantime, Agustín got involved in a heavy operation. And the outcome was worse than he imagined. Far too quickly, his name made the local news as the lead in an incident he regrets—but one from which there’s no turning back. It became known who he was, what he had done, and who he was running with. And even though his face wasn’t shown, the neighborhood knew it had been him.

There are countless stories like Agustín’s. Just as many as there are disruptive experiences that leave a more hopeful mark. Truly effective solutions, though? Maybe not as many.