The passing of Jorge Mario Bergoglio, known to the world as Pope Francis, at age 88 has left Argentina in a bittersweet embrace of grief and pride. As the first Latin American pope, Francis carried the soul of his homeland—its passion, its struggles, its deep Catholic roots—to the global stage. Yet, his relationship with Argentina’s politics was a tightrope walk, balancing his Jesuit commitment to the poor with a refusal to be ensnared by partisan battles. From the slums of Buenos Aires to the Vatican’s hallowed halls, his life was a testament to faith in action, but it was also marked by controversies, misunderstandings, and a poignant question: Why did the pope who called Argentines “my people” never return home?
In this blog, we’ll dive into the heart of Pope Francis’ legacy, exploring his complex ties with Argentine politics, the shadows of the military dictatorship, his fraught relationships with presidents, and the mystery of his absent homecoming. Grab a mate (Argentina’s beloved yerba tea), and let’s unravel a story as vibrant and layered as Buenos Aires itself.
From Flores to the Papacy: A Son of Argentina
Born in 1936 in the working-class neighborhood of Flores, Buenos Aires, Jorge Bergoglio grew up in a nation of tango, soccer, and stark contrasts. Argentina was a land of immigrant dreams and economic booms, but also of political upheaval and inequality. His parents, Italian immigrants, instilled in him a deep Catholic faith and a love for community, values that shaped his path as a Jesuit priest and later as Archbishop of Buenos Aires.
As a young priest, Bergoglio witnessed Argentina’s turbulent history, from the populist fervor of Peronism to the brutal military dictatorship of 1976–1983. Known for his humility, he shunned luxury, often taking the bus to visit the villas miserias—Buenos Aires’ sprawling shantytowns. “He was like a father to us,” says Ana Morales, a resident of Villa 31, recalling how Bergoglio baptized her children under a flickering streetlamp. “He didn’t just preach about the poor; he lived with us.”
When he became Pope Francis in 2013, Argentina erupted in celebration. Here was one of their own, a man who sipped mate and cheered for San Lorenzo, leading the Catholic Church. But his global mission—tackling climate change, advocating for migrants, and reforming the Vatican—often clashed with Argentina’s polarized political landscape, setting the stage for a relationship as complicated as a tango.
The Dictatorship’s Long Shadow: Controversy and Redemption
No discussion of Pope Francis’ Argentine legacy is complete without addressing the military dictatorship (1976–1983), a period when an estimated 30,000 people were killed or “disappeared” under a repressive regime. As the provincial superior of the Jesuit order, Bergoglio faced accusations of complicity, particularly regarding two priests, Orlando Yorio and Francisco Jalics, who were detained and tortured for their social justice work.
Critics, especially from Argentina’s leftist circles, claimed Bergoglio failed to protect the priests or even collaborated with the junta. The accusations resurfaced in 2013, threatening to tarnish his papacy. “It was a painful time,” says Clara Martinez, a human rights activist in Buenos Aires. “Many of us wanted answers.”
But the truth, as often with Bergoglio, was more nuanced. Testimonies, including from Jalics, revealed that Bergoglio worked discreetly to secure their release, negotiating with junta officials and sheltering others in danger. “He wasn’t a hero waving a flag, but he saved lives quietly,” says Sergio Rubin, co-author of The Jesuit, a biography of Francis. Documents later showed he hid dissidents in Jesuit properties, a risky act under the regime’s watchful eye.
This episode highlights Bergoglio’s approach: pragmatic, not confrontational. Unlike some Latin American clergy who embraced liberation theology, he favored dialogue over defiance, a trait that shaped his later interactions with Argentine leaders. Yet, the controversy lingers, a reminder of Argentina’s unhealed wounds and the complexity of Francis’ legacy.
Dancing with Presidents: A Pope Above Politics
As pope, Francis maintained a delicate distance from Argentina’s politics, but his moral voice echoed loudly. He welcomed a parade of presidents—Cristina Kirchner, Mauricio Macri, Alberto Fernández, and Javier Milei—each representing a different ideological hue. Yet, his relationships with them were often as tense as a Buenos Aires traffic jam.
Cristina Kirchner, a fiery Peronist, clashed with Bergoglio when he was archbishop, accusing him of opposing her social programs. But as pope, their dynamic warmed, with Kirchner leveraging Vatican visits to polish her image amid corruption scandals. “It was a marriage of convenience,” quips political analyst Juan Cruz. “She needed his halo; he needed her to listen.”
Mauricio Macri, a center-right businessman, fared worse. His market-driven policies, blamed for deepening Argentina’s economic woes, drew subtle rebukes from Francis, who emphasized social justice and the poor. A 2016 poll showed 44% of Argentines viewed Francis’ stance toward Macri as “cold,” reflecting his growing alignment with progressive causes.
The most colorful clash came with Javier Milei, the libertarian firebrand elected in 2023. Milei called Francis “the devil’s representative” during his campaign, decrying his “socialist” leanings. Yet, after winning, Milei met Francis in 2024, later praising his global influence upon his death. “They were oil and water, but Francis had a way of disarming even his critics,” says Rubin.
Francis’ critiques transcended party lines. He condemned corruption across administrations, opposed Argentina’s 2020 abortion legalization as a moral failure, and initially resisted same-sex marriage, though he later endorsed blessings for same-sex couples, a historic shift. “He wasn’t left or right,” says Father Juan Bogarin, a Buenos Aires priest. “He was for the Gospel, which made everyone uncomfortable.”
The Homecoming That Never Was: Why Didn’t He Return?
For Argentines, the most heart-wrenching question is why Pope Francis never visited his homeland, despite 47 international trips to places like Brazil, Iraq, and Mongolia. “He called us ‘my people,’” says Nicolas Cordoba, a Buenos Aires taxi driver. “So why didn’t he come back?”
The answer lies in Argentina’s volatile political climate. With inflation soaring past 200% in recent years and poverty affecting nearly half the population, any papal visit risked being politicized. “He didn’t want to be a pawn in our endless culture wars,” says Jimmy Burns, author of Francis, Pope of Good Promise. A visit could have been seen as endorsing the sitting government—whether Kirchner’s Peronists, Macri’s reformers, or Milei’s libertarians—undermining Francis’ global message of unity.
Cultural shifts also played a role. Argentina’s 2020 abortion law, which Francis publicly opposed, led some to speculate he felt disconnected from a nation moving away from its Catholic roots. Others point to his health struggles, including a 2024 bout of pneumonia, or logistical challenges as the Vatican prioritized global crises.
Yet, Francis never abandoned Argentina. He sent messages during floods and economic crises, corresponded with local priests, and kept Argentine culture alive, from sipping mate to referencing tango in his speeches. “He was here in spirit,” says Ana Morales, tears in her eyes. “But I wish I could’ve seen him one last time.”
A Legacy Woven in Argentina’s Heart
When news of Pope Francis’ death broke on April 21, 2025, Argentina paused. Masses filled the Metropolitan Cathedral, candles flickered in the villas, and his image glowed on Buenos Aires’ Obelisk. “He was our pope, even if we didn’t always get him,” said Archbishop Jorge Ignacio García Cuerva, his voice cracking during a memorial Mass.
Francis’ legacy in Argentina is a tapestry of pride and paradox. He was a global icon who reshaped the Catholic Church with calls for mercy, environmental stewardship, and inclusivity, yet his progressive reforms—like blessing same-sex couples—sparked debate in a conservative Catholic nation. He was a champion of the poor, rooted in Peronist ideals, but his refusal to pick sides frustrated politicians and citizens alike.
As the Vatican prepares for a new pope, Argentines are left with memories of a man who carried their spirit to the world. “He never came back, but he never left,” says Ana Morales, clutching a faded photo of Francis baptizing her son. “His heart was always in Flores.”
For a nation grappling with economic strife and political divides, Pope Francis remains a beacon of hope and a reminder of faith’s power to bridge divides. His story is Argentina’s story—messy, passionate, and profoundly human.
Why This Matters to You
Whether you’re Catholic, curious about global politics, or just love a good human story, Pope Francis’ relationship with Argentina offers lessons in navigating complexity with grace. His life shows us how to stand for principle without succumbing to division, to love a homeland while serving the world, and to lead with humility in a fractured age.
What do you think? Should Francis have returned to Argentina? How do you see his legacy shaping the future of the Catholic Church? Drop your thoughts in the comments below, and share this story with someone who’d love a deep dive into faith and politics.