The World Needs a New Philosophy

Tango, like a single drop in the vast ocean of human civilization, reflects both the beauty and the contamination of our world. The issues we face in tango today are not merely confined to the dance—they mirror the broader challenges confronting humanity.

Just as our understanding of tango shapes the way we dance, our self-perception shapes how we live and behave. Over millions of years of evolution, humankind has gradually distinguished itself from the animal kingdom. The essence of that difference can be captured in a single word: humanity. Our understanding of humanity reached its pinnacle during the Renaissance, between the 14th and 17th centuries. In contrast to today’s often distorted portrayals, the Renaissance celebrated the dignity, nobility, and beauty of the human spirit. This reawakening inspired revolutions against oppression, an explosion of creativity, scientific and technological breakthroughs, the rise of democracy, and the birth of modern civilization.

Yet, amid this progress, humanity has become increasingly alienated from itself. We have left our mark on every corner of the Earth. Farmlands replaced forests, cities supplanted farmlands, pollution displaced purity, materialism overtook idealism, extravagance superseded simplicity, competition replaced cooperation, stress overshadowed enjoyment, monopolies usurped sharing, corruption supplanted integrity, legalism overrode common sense, and individualism displaced fraternity. Self-interest and entitlement have eroded communal values and collective responsibility. Sexual liberation has challenged marriage, transgender identities have emerged in contrast to natural genders, and single-parent and same-sex families have redefined the traditional family. GMOs and synthetic foods have substituted natural nourishment, the virtual economy has overtaken the real economy, games have replaced classics, artificial intelligence has eclipsed human intelligence, and machines have displaced people.

Modernization, for all its promises, has estranged us from both nature and our own humanity. Our ecosystems are ravaged, the environment irreversibly damaged, natural resources depleted. Traditional moral values are subverted, and society is increasingly divided—by race, gender, interest groups, political factions, and nations. Ironically, the very liberty that once propelled humanity to greatness now seems to be driving us toward division, conflict, war, and self-destruction. (See Tango Is the Search for a Dream.)

I hope that someday, values like returning to nature, conservation, environmental responsibility, humanism, collectivism, equality, fraternity, cooperation, shared purpose, and harmony will supplant the ideals of egoism, individualism, liberalism, feminism, consumerism, materialism, self-interest, competition, aggression, power politics, conquest, and the obsession with winning. But by then, it may be too late.

The world needs a new philosophy—one not defined by narrow, self-centered, and unbalanced ideologies, but by a renewed idealism that can guide humanity toward fraternity, solidarity, generosity, cooperation, and peaceful coexistence. Hopefully, tango will play a positive role in the return of humanity, because it embodies the values that make us human. (See Understanding China: Philosophies That Separate Two Worlds.)

Boston Tango Marathon

Outside a few major cities, most tango communities in the U.S. remain small, prompting enthusiasts to travel to large festivals for the opportunity to dance with a broader, more diverse crowd. However, attending these events can be costly. Festival passes range from $250 to $3,500, while private lessons with renowned instructors cost $100 to $300 per hour. Airfare ($250–$500 per person), hotel accommodations for four nights ($400–$600), and transportation expenses—such as car rentals and gas ($250)—quickly add up. With additional costs like parking, tolls, and food, a couple can easily spend several thousand dollars on a single weekend—enough to fund a multi-week trip to Buenos Aires.

In recent years, tango marathons have become my favorite type of event. Unlike festivals, marathons don’t include lessons, allowing me to focus entirely on dancing. Since organizers don’t need to hire instructors, costs are significantly lower. With fewer beginners, the dance floor is less crowded, and milonga codes are more consistently observed. In short, marathons offer many of the things I appreciate most about tango—without the hefty price tag.

Two weeks ago, I attended the Boston Tango Marathon. Although it was only in its second year, it was a resounding success—thanks to the dedication of its organizers and the efforts of fifty volunteers from the Boston tango community. The pass cost just $100 and included 40 hours of dancing over three days, along with meals, drinks, refreshments, and even ice cream. Clearly, the goal wasn’t profit but creating an exceptional experience for dancers. Best of all, the marathon had a unifying theme: friendship, which was emphasized throughout the weekend. Each time the host asked the crowd about the event’s theme, the entire room responded in unison: “Friendship!” It genuinely resonated.

I truly appreciate the organizers’ commitment to creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere—something that is often overlooked. In the U.S., the focus tends to fall primarily on dance technique. In Buenos Aires, by contrast, fostering a sense of community is a central part of tango culture. Guests are warmly greeted at the door, seating is carefully arranged to facilitate the cabeceo, tables are neatly dressed with clean linens, food and drinks are served directly to the table, and milonga codes are diligently observed. While in the U.S., break time is often filled with announcements, in Buenos Aires it is more commonly used to educate dancers about tango’s traditions and values.

Richard Miller once mentioned in his blog a sign he saw at Milonga Cachirulo in Buenos Aires. It read:
“Welcome to the best milonga in Buenos Aires. Tanguero friends, please pay attention:
• Here we dance milonguero-style tango and respect the codes of the milonga.
• We dance with a warm, respectful, close embrace.
• We follow the line of dance in a counterclockwise direction.
• We avoid stepping backward into the line of dance, always moving forward, as it             should be.
• We keep our feet close to the floor to avoid hitting other dancers.
• We invite women to dance through the classic ‘Cabeceo del caballero.’
• Most importantly, respect is the foundation of the milonga.
Much to our regret, not respecting these codes will make it impossible to dance at Cachirulo.”

It is this kind of care and intention that makes milongas in Buenos Aires truly special. I’m encouraged to see that some organizers in the U.S. are moving in a similar direction. Tango is a dance of, by, and for the dancers. It shouldn’t take thousands of dollars to enjoy. What matters most is cultivating a warm, respectful culture through thoughtful leadership and community education. Thanks to the Boston Tango Marathon, we now have a beautiful example.

Tango Is a Fellowship

Many novices approach tango purely as a skill, assuming that technical mastery alone equates to mastering the dance. This mindset often overlooks the cultural depth of tango—disregarding milonga codes, neglecting the connection between partners, treating fellow dancers as rivals, and prioritizing personal display over shared experience. This attitude is quite common in the United States, where the values of liberalism and individualism often clash with the collaborative nature of tango (see A Dance That Challenges Modern Ideologies).

Liberalism, with its emphasis on individuality, independence, and personal liberty, often undervalues relationships and collective engagement. Tango, by contrast, is rooted in partnership, teamwork, and cooperation. Its essence lies not in showcasing personal skills but in shared connection, collaboration, and harmony—not just with a single partner but also with the broader community. More than anything, tango is a fellowship. To truly enjoy the dance, one must be part of a community—without which, even the most advanced technical skills remain hollow. (See The Goal of Tango: The Pursuit of Oneness.)

For this reason, those who exclusively perform exhibition tango with a fixed partner cannot truly be considered tango dancers. Unfortunately, professional performers are often idolized by tango students, shifting tango from a rich communal practice into a spectacle. Yet technique alone cannot nourish the soul. While mechanical refinement may bring momentary satisfaction, most dancers eventually seek something deeper, something that transcends individual prowess and taps into the spirit of connection (see The Four Stages of the Tango Journey).

Since its revival in 1983, tango has flourished in the U.S., with many dancers now matching their Argentine counterparts in technical skill. Yet in Argentina, tango remains deeply rooted in community—more than just a performance, it is a shared tradition. The spirit of fellowship remains at its core. For tango to truly thrive, dancers must look beyond individualism and embrace the collective experience. This transformation requires commitment from dancers, teachers, and organizers alike. Every aspect of our engagement—how we support our communities, interact at milongas, extend and respond to invitations, and treat one another—reflects our understanding of tango and shapes the culture around us.

As stewards of tango, we carry the responsibility of nurturing its spirit of collectivism. Only through shared efforts can our tango truly reflect the depth, authenticity, and fellowship of its Argentine origins (see 惜缘 – Cherishing the Connection of Fate).

The Psychology in Tango

One

The attraction between the sexes can ignite such enthusiasm and creativity that Freud saw art as a sublimation of sexual desire. While sexuality isn’t the sole engine of artistic expression, Freud’s theory resonates with tango. As long as we avoid interpreting sexuality in a crude or reductive way, its connection with romanticism, passion, imagination, creativity, and artistry becomes easier to understand.

After all, aren’t most human pursuits ultimately rooted in the instinct to survive and reproduce? Love, marriage, family, education, ambition, competition, inequality, deception, crime—even war—can all be traced back to that root. Sexuality has given rise to both great beauty and deep suffering. When misunderstood in vulgar terms, it has led to the rejection and distortion of tango. Yet the modern resurgence of tango reflects a more mature and nuanced understanding of human nature (see Artistic Sublimation and Vulgarism in Tango).

Two

Tango is the dance of immigrants. It was created by them, shaped by their needs, and infused with their feelings. Those who love tango are often immigrants themselves—or people who share the immigrant’s longing: for connection, for home, for love (see Tango: Historical and Cultural Impactst).

Jeanette Winterson once wrote, “I want to go anywhere that is filled with love. I want to be like a migratory salmon, relentlessly searching for the traces of love.” Her words capture the immigrant's yearning. Love and loneliness are inseparably linked. Without grasping this connection, it’s difficult to truly understand the human nature behind tango.

You don't have to leave your country to be an immigrant. Students attending schools far from home, college graduates stepping into society for the first time, entrepreneurs struggling alone to build businesses, migrant workers searching for jobs in big cities, homeless individuals, wandering travelers, lonely singles, women trapped in unhappy marriages, or powerless individuals oppressed by the powerful—aren't they all immigrants in their own way? In a sense, to be human is to be an immigrant—forever seeking belonging, love, and a place to call home from the moment we enter the world.

And so, tango, regarded as a refuge or home, came into being.

Three

“What is home? Home is not a house or a place. It is the attachment, warmth, and connection we feel in this vast, mortal world. In their absence, even a mansion with a thousand rooms is just a cold building. Home is where our hearts belong, filled with affection and love.” – Xiaomu

Xiaomu is speaking about tango. Tango isn’t a house or a place—it’s a home. Without affection and love, tango becomes nothing more than a cold structure. Yet, affection and love are invisible; all people see is the building.

From her deathbed, cancer patient Yu Juan wrote: “When facing life and death, you realize that working overtime (staying up late long-term is suicidal), pushing yourself too hard, or striving for a new car or house—these are all vanities. If you have time, spend it with your children. Use the money for a new car to buy a pair of shoes for your parents. Don’t work overtime just to upgrade your home. Being with the ones you love turns even the simplest shelter into a warm place.”

Yu Juan is also speaking about tango. Tango isn’t about impressing others. It’s about cherishing connection, intimacy, and love. True happiness is simple and quiet—it belongs to you alone. However, happiness is invisible; people often chase only what can be seen.

Four

Parents tell their children, “This cake tastes better than all the others.” But children don’t believe them. They’re drawn to what looks more colorful and tempting. Only after trying everything do they realize their parents were right. They pass this wisdom on to their own children, but those children, too, don’t believe and are still enticed by what seems more appealing.

Milongueros tell beginners, “Fancy steps are useless in the milonga.” But beginners don’t believe them. They’re eager to learn flashy moves. Only after exhausting every variation do they realize the milongueros were right. They share this insight with their own students, but those students also don’t believe and remain eager to learn fancy steps.

Again and again, we’re fooled by appearances. How much time and effort must be wasted before we learn this lesson?

“Happiness is actually simpler than we think. The problem is, unless we explore every possibility, endure every disappointment, climb every mountain, and suffer every fall, we won’t believe that happiness was waiting all along in the shade of that tree at the foot of the hill.” – Liu Yu

Maybe this is how most people learn. Only a few, who truly listen to those who’ve gone before, can avoid making the same mistakes.

Five

“There are two ways to live: one is by meeting others’ expectations; the other is by following your heart. The first may earn you applause—but not your own. The second may earn no applause—but you will cheer for yourself.” – Zhu Deyong

Tango is often described as a relationship, a connection, a feeling, a refuge, a home. But there’s one thing tango should never become: a performance. A performance is a dramatized show, like a glossy burger ad from McDonald's—designed solely to attract attention. Have you ever bought a burger that looked like the one in the ad?

Tango is only truly tango when it stops being a performance. Dancing tango is not about putting on a show—it’s about sharing a few intimate minutes with another person.

This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch videos, but remember—tango is not just a visual spectacle; it is a feeling lived through movement (see Tango Is a Feeling).

Six

Feelings have gender. Men and women seek different qualities in tango. Strength is deeply ingrained in the male essence, drawing men toward women in search of comfort. Softness is woven into the female nature, attracting women to men as they seek a sense of security. Men and women are created to complement, balance, and complete one another. This is the law of nature.

Women, you need to make him feel comfortable so that he may see where you are as his home.

Men, you need to lead, support, and protect her diligently so that she may find refuge in you and feel safe.

The essence of tango lies not in the visual but in the psychological: the magnetism of opposites, the spark between masculinity and femininity, and the companionship of the sexes (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

Seven

“If you want to remember the beauty of a flower, leave before it withers. If you want to savor good wine, stop before you're drunk.” – Li Ao

“Perhaps the most beautiful love is when you love him, and he loves you—but the two of you are not together.” – Anonymous

It makes perfect sense for tango to be brief. Lasting only three minutes, it leaves an endless aftertaste.

Eight

A poem reads: “I ran up the door, opened the staircase, put on the prayer, said the pajama, got into the light, turned off the bed—all because of the kiss you gave me when you said goodbye.” – The Kiss

Some people leave the milonga after a perfect tanda, just to preserve that unexpectedly wonderful feeling.

Tango is made to be felt.

In that feeling, many find a temporary home.

The Functions of Various Body Parts in Tango

In tango, each part of the body—the head, arms, hands, torso, hips, and legs—has a distinct function. To use them in a controlled and coordinated manner, dancers must understand their roles and assign appropriate attention in the dance. Misuse of body parts is a common issue in tango.

The Head
In a close embrace, the woman may rest her head on the man’s temple, cheek, or chin, depending on their relative heights. She may also choose not to make head contact. When she does, the touch should be light and comfortable. Some women press their head against the man's head to prevent chest contact. Beginners often rely on the head for support when executing steps. These practices indicate a misunderstanding of the head’s role. Head contact is a gesture of intimacy. Dancers should dissociate the head from the body—never using it to prevent chest contact or assist movements, as both can cause discomfort and disrupt the harmony of the embrace.

The Arms and Hands
The functions of the arms and hands are more nuanced. Ideally, they serve to hold the partner gently, forming an embrace that offers support, comfort, and connection. However, arms and hands are frequently misused. Some dancers use them to coerce or resist the partner, push the partner away to avoid intimacy, hold onto the partner for balance and stability, grab the partner to assist the movements, or wrestle with the partner. Such habits turn the arms and hands into instruments of manipulation, rather than connection. Beginners must overcome the habit of relying on their arms and hands. Tango is led and followed through the torso. Arms and hands should be used solely to create a comfortable embrace. The contact of the arms and hands should be gentle and relaxed. Dancers must dissociate their arms and hands from their bodies, not using them to guide, distance, brace, assist movements, manipulate, or fight with the partner.

The Torso
The torso is the command center of tango. Tango partners use their torsos to communicate intentions, music interpretations, emotions, and to bring out the movements of their hips and legs. The intimate, emotionally expressive nature of tango stems primarily from the central role of the torso. Unfortunately, this role is often overlooked by action-oriented dancers who substitute the embrace with an open dance hold, relegating the torso to a subordinate role under the control of the arms and hands. As a result, they transform tango from a feeling-driven dance into one focused solely on movement.

The Legs
In a previous post (The Fourteenth Pitffall of a Tangura), I cited a young woman’s insightful observation: what she called the “first-layer technique”—maintaining a comfortable embrace—and the “second-layer technique”—pursuing visual beauty—essentially reflect the roles of the torso and legs, respectively. In tango, the torso remains relatively still in the embrace, conveying intimacy, while the legs move expressively, embodying beauty. Brisk and expressive, the legs bring tango's beauty to life.

However, when dancers prioritize visual flair over connection, they risk losing the essence of tango—the embrace. Formalist dancers often fall into this trap, treating the torso as merely another limb, manipulated by arms and hands to produce elaborate figures. Yet the pursuit of spectacle at the expense of intimacy and comfort is a poor bargain. As tango evolved—from milonguero to Villa Urquiza, to fantasia, and eventually to nuevo—it has traced an aesthetic path that drifts ever further from the embrace and its distinctive feeling (see The Styles of Tango). I believe this trajectory is misguided. The comfort of the embrace and the beauty of footwork are not mutually exclusive. Dancers need not sacrifice connection for visual elegance. Indeed, unforgettable performances—such as Poema by Javier Rodriguez and Geraldine Rojas, or the artistry of Carlitos Espinoza with Noelia Hurtado and Agustina Piaggio—prove that technical brilliance and emotional depth can coexist in perfect harmony.

The Hips
These dancers excel because they skillfully use their hips, which serve as the swivel point that connects the upper and lower body. Since their torsos remain connected in the embrace, they must rotate their hips to move their legs around each other. This technique is known as dissociation in tango. Skilled tango dancers can rotate their hips to a greater degree, enabling them to step freely around each other without breaking the embrace. Dissociation is not only a physical separation but also an artistic division of labor, allowing the upper body to maintain the comfort of the embrace while the lower body expresses maximum creativity.

In contrast, the novice’s body often lack the flexiblity. An inexperienced man, therefore, tends to use his arms and hands instead of his torso to lead, while an inexperienced woman tends to turn her whole body instead of swiveling her hips, and they grip each other with their arms and hands to help themselves with movements, causing the disruption of the embrace and incoherence of the dance. You may call it by its polished label "open embrace," but the underlying reason is an inability to dance in close embrace, leading to reliance on an artificial substitute. However, this "cheating" comes at a price—it may deceive others, but not the dancers themselves. Professional dancers may use an open embrace on stage to perform for an audience. They accept this trade-off as part of their work. Yet, when they attend a milonga, they return to dancing in close embrace for personal enjoyment (see Social Tango and Performance Tango). Novices who envy the glamour of stage performances often imitate them blindly in milongas without even can embrace well. Such crude imitation only makes them appear foolish.

Conclusion
When dancing tango, the head, arms, and hands should remain relaxed, never interfere with the body's movements. The function of the torso is communicating intentions and feelings through direct physical contact, and guiding the movements of the lower body. The legs are responsible for beautifying the dance and bringing tango's visual elegance to life. The key to maximizing the beauty of the legwork while preserving the comfort of the embrace lies in the swivel of the hips. Learning tango is not about memorizing steps; it's about mastering the proper control, coordination, and use of various parts of the body. Overemphasizing movements while neglecting feelings is the main cause that leads to the misuse of body parts in tango.