Carnival is not just a celebration. It is a cultural X-ray. It is the moment of the year when a society allows itself to exaggerate, laugh at its own power structures, invert hierarchies, and stage what usually remains contained.
In Argentina, carnival is not homogeneous. It is geography, history, class structure and economy transformed into spectacle. But above all, it is a cultural device that unfolds in public space. The corso — the street parade where murgas, comparsas and floats perform — turns the city into a stage. The street ceases to be transit and becomes narrative. Hierarchies soften. Voices amplify. The neighborhood observes itself. Public space recovers its symbolic dimension.
What does carnival reveal about who we are?
The Río de la Plata murga, especially in Buenos Aires, is percussion, sequined coats, top hats and the iconic bass drum with cymbal. But above all, it is word. Its lyrics criticize governments, denounce injustice and translate social tensions into collective irony. Murga is born in the neighborhood. It is popular art and political commentary wrapped in rhythm.
It does not only entertain. It questions.
Is it not significant that one of the most festive moments of the year is also one of the most critical?
Comparsas in cities like Gualeguaychú and Corrientes represent another dimension of carnival. Monumental floats, feathers, elaborate costumes and rehearsed choreography create large-scale productions that rival international shows.
Many comparsas reflect the natural resources of their region: rivers, forests, wildlife, agricultural cycles. Territory becomes symbol. At the same time, they address global themes such as climate change or universal cultural debates.
In 2026, the comparsa Sapucay presents “Sapucay del alma mía,” a theme celebrating art as the essence of human condition. Here, creativity is not decoration. It is identity and value generation.
When does tradition become cultural industry — and when does industry empower tradition?
In Jujuy, particularly in the Quebrada de Humahuaca, carnival acquires a sacred depth. The ritual “unearthing of the devil” (Pujllay) fuses indigenous cosmology with Spanish heritage. Powder, foam, traditional music and community celebration create not just a festival, but a ritual bond with land and memory.
What have large cities lost when celebration disconnects from ritual?
Historically, carnival has been a space of inclusion. Disguise suspended social hierarchies and allowed alternative identities to emerge. Today, many members of the LGBT community find in carnival a space of free expression where joy and performative exaggeration become visible dignity.
What is carnival showing us that we could apply in other spaces to express ourselves more freely?
Beyond symbolism, carnival is real economy. Events such as the Carnaval del País generate thousands of direct and indirect jobs: designers, costume makers, musicians, technicians, hospitality workers, logistics teams. They activate tourism and entire productive chains.
Carnival is not just tradition. It is cultural industry and creative economy in motion.
Are we measuring its strategic impact — or reducing it to seasonal spectacle?
Carnival exaggerates who we are. It ironizes power. It celebrates the body. It integrates ancestral memory with contemporary expression. For a few days, society shows itself without filter.
When carnival ends…
what part of that truth is buried again?
If we want to understand a culture — or design identity and creative economy strategies — we should observe how it celebrates. Celebrations are not innocent. They are collective narratives in motion.
Cities and organizations that understand culture as strategy lead the future. If this conversation resonates with your work, let’s connect.
Christian Bravo Coach