Since Javier Milei became president, many rulebooks have been thrown out the window. Political life in Argentina has turned into a series of disruptive, novel, even revolutionary events. However, there’s hardly any precedent – here or anywhere else in the world – for what happened last Sunday afternoon: for the first time, an English mastiff apparently nearly 22 years old was seen in public. Conan’s audiovisual debut on the streaming platform Neura is a record in itself, another one in this astounding presidency.
Milei has told the story many times – at rallies, in interviews, in his books. He brought the dog back from a trip to Córdoba in 2004, though he never clarified whether the animal was born that year or the year before. Ever since then, they have been inseparable. Or rather: for him, Conan is the most important being in his life, his “greatest and truest love,” the only one (besides his sister) who stood by him “during his worst moments, when everyone else was lining up to kick him while he was down.” The adventures of this cross-species duo could make for a good underdog tale movie, peppered with a few kitschy scenes.
During a financial crisis, after losing his job due to one of his uncontrollable bursts of passion, Milei had to sacrifice his own food intake, surviving on just one pizza a day. But he never compromised on the quality or quantity of food he gave his dog. There’s also a scene worthy of a high-octane action thriller: before he became a media sensation, the building Milei lived in near Abasto, Buenos Aires, caught fire. The economist refused to leave until he was sure Conan was following him. When they finally reached safety, 10 floors down, a doctor warned him his skin was turning blue from lack of air. “I’m willing to die for him,” he answered – a killer line worthy of a Tom Cruise film.
Then one day, a miracle happened. In 2018, his beloved Conan gave him “grandchildren,” as Milei calls them: Milton, Murray, Robert and Lucas. That could be the final scene before the credits roll, a happy family portrait. But if that were the case, there would have to be a sequel, because after the birth of these new dogs, something else momentous occurred: Papa Javier became President. At the start of 2024, the five dogs moved with him to the Quinta de Olivos presidential residence. And then last Sunday, June 29, Conan – apparently nearly 22 years old that he hardly seems to show – appeared before the nation governed by his two-legged father on a streaming show.
This, at least, is the official story. It’s the one repeated by Milei’s supporters, party activists and government officials – as well as the journalists and entertainers who are lucky enough to interview him. Is the reason why not a single one of them (Luis Majul, Jonatan Viale, Esteban Trebucq, Alejandro Fantino, Pablo Rossi, et al) has ever asked him for clarification about his dog and its supposed grandchildren is that they believe Milei’s word? They seem to be convinced that the Conan we saw is, in fact, the same dog Milei has always spoken about: a natural marvel who defies time and age with no problem.
Sergio ‘Tronco’ Figliuolo, the last media figure to lob softballs at the President’s head, can attest to it firsthand. “Look, here he is, I’m touching him, look at him,” he repeated countless times during last Sunday’s broadcast, while Milei let out bursts of laughter that – were it not for the fact that the hero of the new international right never lies – might have seemed forced.
The power of the President’s flawless word (which, for instance, has convinced many that the passages in his books identical to earlier authors’ work are definitely not plagiarism) has only one small problem. It’s minor, sure, when compared to the feats of “the best government in the history of the world,” but it still nags like a fly that refuses to leave. It’s the enemy Milei has struggled with since childhood, since that time when – in the middle of a beating from his father – a beam of light came down from the kitchen ceiling to shine on his sister. What complicates the official story of Conan and his offspring – the foundational myth of La Libertad Avanza – is something called reality.
You see, Conan the dog, the one who appeared on Neura, is not Conan. Despite what his owner says, despite what he’s maintained for years, despite what was claimed on the dog’s now-defunct Twitter account where they talked about going on walks together, Conan died in 2017.
How do we know this? First, thanks to logic: English mastiffs have an average life expectancy of 12 years. The oldest reportedly lived to 15. Still, a die-hard supporter – or one of those camera-friendly entertainers – might argue that this proves nothing: Conan could be an exception, a creature who defies all limits. If his owner achieved the impossible (like preventing 17,000 percent inflation), why couldn’t his dog?
But there’s another issue too. It’s the testimony of the few friends Milei once had – like Diego Giacomini, Mariano Fernández or Claudia Oviedo, the social media manager who ran Conan’s account after the dog’s death. They have often recounted how the animal’s 2017 death transformed Milei.
There’s also another irrefutable piece of evidence, one that brings us closer to the dog’s supposed descendants: PerPETuate, the US company where Milei had his dog cloned. On its website – where they proudly name the President as a famous client – they confirm this version and dismantle the story Milei maintained for years. The “grandchildren,” the ones he presents as Conan’s “sons,” are actually genetic clones. They were not born naturally or biologically. One could even argue – using the president’s own florid rhetoric – that they are the country’s first ‘woke’ dogs.
But the real issue lies elsewhere. Why does Milei refuse to present the clone – let’s call him Conan II – as what he truly is? Why does nobody around him dare to ask? What is hidden behind this dog?
Here we might consult Celia Melamed and the sorcerer Gustavo. The former is an “interspecies communicator” who trained Milei’s sister, Karina, in the same practice. The medium witnessed the moment the clones first met the libertarian, when one puppy, unprompted, went straight to Conan’s old food bowl. Anyone else might think it was simply a hungry dog but Milei – always a step ahead – saw something else: the reincarnation of the deceased animal in the newborn.
Karina, who like Melamed believes in reincarnation and past lives, naturally endorsed this version. Gustavo, the sorcerer, can also vouch for it. In my book Las Fuerzas del Cielo (published by Planeta), in which he speaks for the first time, Gustavo reveals that he met Milei in ancient Rome, where Gustavo was an emperor and Milei was a gladiator transformed into a general. It was in the Coliseum where warrior and dog – then in the form of a lion – first met. This story was also repeated by Milei to his previously mentioned friends, and many others.
So, the President doesn’t tell the truth – his truth – because, as he says, he’s “crazy but not stupid.” He knows that if he had walked into Neura on Sunday and said, “This is Conan’s reincarnation,” it would have triggered a flood of questions. The first would be obvious: if he truly believes past lives explain the present, what other mystical elements does he believe in?
The dozens of stories, documents and testimonies all point in the same direction: Milei believes he was chosen by a higher power. That it selected him at age 11 and has accompanied him ever since. For Milei, it was God – who passed the message to Conan and Conan to Karina – who revealed the “mission” to become President. It was God who told him to appoint Luis Caputo as Economy Minister. God also told him to move the Israeli Embassy. The list goes on, and it helps explain why esotericism plays such a central role in this president and this administration. It influences everything from cabinet appointments to policy decisions, and it explains why the government’s discourse – “the forces of heaven” – is profoundly theological.
A WhatsApp conversation between Milei and his former friend Mariano Fernández also proves that the libertarian believes his cloned dogs have different abilities: some understand economics, some philosophy, some can even predict the future.
The purpose of this article was to talk about Conan. But what I really want to talk about is what lies behind Conan. The signifier Conan, if you will. The questions raised by the public appearance of his genetic copy.
What does it say about the President that he believes in reincarnation? What does it say about the President that he believes animals can engage in back-and-forth conversations? That they can offer strategic advice? That he believes himself to be chosen by God? That he believes heavenly forces speak to him? That those mystical visions determine who enters or exits his government? That he bases key decisions on supernatural beliefs?
The list of searing questions could go on but one towers above the rest. What does it say about all of us that we continue to pretend nothing strange is going on? And therein lies the real question – not what Milei says about Conan but what Conan (the living and the cloned) says about us.
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