It was highly predictable that the Pope's visit would have an enormous impact on the country. But what happened during those 72 hours exceeded all expectations. A physical and emotional mobilization occurred that, by its size and intensity, is mysterious. If one wants to condense what happened into the superficiality of figures, it is worth remembering that Pope Leo XIV's trip to France brought together 800,000 people at Place de la Concorde. During the trip to Spain, 1.2 million people gathered in Madrid's Cibeles square. Yesterday, more than 2 million faithful traveled to Luján. Two and a half million had already gathered at the Monument of the Spaniards. And one million during the youth vigil on Tuesday night. Beyond this demography, the depth of the phenomenon is spiritual and demands attention to its consequences for public life, which may not be immediately obvious. A peculiar and striking feature is the attraction generated by a figure with the sobriety of Robert Prevost. The magnetism of shyness. A contrast to the Champachana expressiveness of Francis. And even more so, to the theatrical display of John Paul II. That restraint, instead of distancing, attracted. Every gesture was highlighted, and above all, the rhetorical quality of his messages. The dimension of what happened cannot be fully explained by the Pope's virtues alone. The key to understanding this tide is the demand lurking within society. All surveys repeat it: worrying amounts of uncertainty, unease, and anger. In the countless testimonies of pilgrims collected by television channels in their coverage, the same emotional climate appeared, with a thousand modulations. From Leo, it was expected that he would be the spokesperson for that valley of tears. And he was. It is worth highlighting one detail: the central format of the entire visit consisted of an exchange between people giving their testimony, sometimes asking a question, and receiving an answer from the Pontiff. In other words, the tour was structured as a sequence of dialogues. If one reviews the Pope's speeches, one notices that these correspondences were based on a broader and more general conversation. Leo's teachings and recommendations regarding the problems posed by the Argentine public agenda. A way of responding to that demand. It is striking how precise the Pope and his collaborators were in identifying, aided by reports that reached Rome from Buenos Aires, the main problems afflicting the country. Poverty and marginalization, ideological intolerance, drug trafficking and addictions, the lack of compassion for those who suffer, especially people with disabilities. Leo exercised a kind of moral audit on collective life. Without that capacity, it is impossible to generate the identification between the Pope and those who met him, or followed him through the media. That connection, which reached millions of people, seems prodigious in a nation affected by a new crisis of representation. It contrasts with a politic class under scrutiny, composed of figures where the negative image is always dominant. A leadership where vices far outweigh virtues. Against this backdrop, a religious organization emerged, to which the multitudes feel better understood. The reasons for this legitimacy are diverse. The most obvious is that the Church deals with a very special subject: the mystery of faith, in which thousands and thousands of people find comfort and support. Furthermore, the Papacy holds a special meaning for the collective memory of Argentines, even if only preconscious. The Holy See stopped a confrontation with Chile in 1978. John Paul II traveled urgently to Buenos Aires in 1982 in a frustrated attempt to stop the Falklands War. In this part of the world, there was a very concrete experience of what the Papacy's activism means in defense of the preservation of lives. In defense of peace. But this legitimacy, which culminates in the fascination generated by Leo, is not limited to the religious plane. It is evident that there is also an exercise of leadership that achieves greater effectiveness and transparency than that of politicians. Monseñor Jorge Eduardo Scheinig, Archbishop of Mercedes-Luján, offered a key to this question, having received the Pope at the main sanctuary of Argentina yesterday. In dialogue with this newspaper, Scheinig observed the following: "To understand Leo's charm, one must remember that he is a man who spent his life in contact with people. As a priest, as a bishop, and above all, as a superior of the Augustinians. He had to solve all kinds of human problems. And lead people. But this extends to all of us. To bishops, to priests, to religious. We live in contact with people, with their difficulties, with their dramas. In the confessional we listen to people, and we learn from people. Women who may be beaten in their homes, but who possess infinite wisdom. This contact with flesh and blood gives a special density to leadership. Sometimes I think that political leadership is objected to because it has lost physical contact with the people. It is very difficult to represent." Bishop Scheinig's reflection touches the core of the problem. Politics has become hollow, especially because it maintains an artificial link with those it purports to represent. That leadership is equivalent to an actor who misinterprets his character. The character is the citizens. Those citizens have been turning into mere statistical abstractions, percentages in a survey. Polls that, on the other hand, no longer consult real people but virtual voters, constructed with artificial intelligence. The papal trip brought into evidence the existence of a well-known device, but one that can be surprising in its vitality when activated: the capillary network of the Catholic Church. In recent days, it displayed an overflowing dynamism. Those who filled the large spaces designated to receive the Pontiff were, for the most part, not spontaneous individuals. Groups belonging to religious communities of the most diverse nature predominated. This network demonstrated a singular capacity for mobilization, which has been evident many times throughout contemporary history. Nothing surprising. It is the Church of the International Eucharistic Congress of 1934, which received the visit of Eugenio Pacelli, the future Pius XII; that of the two trips by John Paul II; that of the periodic processions to Luján and San Cayetano. At a time when only football, when it wins internationally, manages to get people out of their homes, that power of call is notorious. It can also be disturbing. Politics, as a profession, is being challenged by that power. The crowds gathered by the Pope left the leadership in a state of perplexity. The initial reflection was the usual one. Different sectors trying to imitate Leo's voice, to appropriate his words. A vulgar operation of opportunism that forced some personalities to make a quick move. The most notable shift was that of Javier Milei, who went from characterizing Pope Francis as "the unpresentable in Rome," "the representative of the Evil One on earth," to opening his speech with an evocation of "our dear Jorge Bergoglio, Pope Francis, undoubtedly the most important Argentine in history." Jorge Macri also had his Damascus encounter: he immersed himself in ecclesial life after having criticized the Church for not providing shelter and food to the poorest, "and what they achieve is that more come." If one were to walk through the great concentration that attended yesterday's mass in Luján, one would realize that adherence to Leo XIV forces a reflection on Peronism. There was, more than anywhere else, its social base. Within the universe of the PJ, there is a more incisive question about the defection of the social movements that blocked the major avenues for more than 20 years. To what hiding place did they retreat? Does anyone, especially among the poor, miss them? The old blockaders seem to have fled, dismayed, by the flash of a couple of judicial investigations. One must exclude from the exodus the deputy Juan Grabois, so closely linked to Francis. Only a renewed PJ, which has not yet appeared, would be in a position to vocalize again the values of inclusion and social justice that the Pope exposed. However, as is logical, Leo's message was directed, above all, at Milei and his government. He arrived in the country amidst a restructuring that presents increasingly evident costs in the social and productive fields. He recalled classic concepts of the Social Doctrine of the Church. For example, that with all due respect to the right to property, goods have a universal destiny. And that the economy must be subordinated to the human being and not the other way around. In the midst of a process that threatens to become recessionary, the Pope arrived to remind everyone that adjustments have victims, and those victims cannot be discarded. In the midst of the wear of depression, which is material but, above all, emotional, he raised his voice in Luján to say: "Argentina, rise and walk. Love." It is impossible to predict whether the atmosphere that this spiritual leader left in the country will have a concrete effect on the power struggle, which next year has a decisive stage with the presidential succession. But in his farewell from Luján, he formulated a collection of appeals. They go beyond doctrinal positions. They propose a recreation of the political and social environment. He asked the Virgin to help Argentines "create bridges of unity, and networks of solidarity. Inspire in them the impulse to continue walking paths of reconciliation, of communion and of mission, illuminated by the word of your son Jesus Christ and firmly cemented in Him, the cornerstone." In that religious plea lies a recommendation that is not ideological, but political and moral. The proposal for a new collective air. It is an enigma whether any political leader is in a position to take charge of the secular dimension of this proposal, made by a shy Chicago mathematician who became Pope. It is also an unknown whether the key to the next electoral triumph will not be hidden there. By Carlos Pagni