So we think European football has problems with hooliganism? Neil Clack reports from Buenos Aires, where the ultras are an inherent part of the game. Even club presidents are grateful for their support as the battles continue to rage on the terraces

Knives, guns, flying hot-dog stands and drinks trays, all part of the armoury of Las Barrabravas, Argentina's notorious hooligan gangs. Last season, five first division matches were abandoned for a variety of violent reasons, including the Burberry-clad club president of Gimnasia de La Plata bursting into the referee's dressing room at half-time, accompanied by two "Barras", and threatening to kill him.

In another incident, fans of San Lorenzo and Racing successfully suspended a match by chaining themselves to the entrance of their teams' hotels to prevent the players boarding the coach to the match.

To say Argentinian football has a problem is putting it mildly, but what can be done when club directors are so involved with the hooligans?

The president of the Argentine FA, Julio Grondona, greeted every new incident last season with a shrug, passing hooliganism off as a social problem beyond his association's control.

It occurs in lower divisions as well and the tactic of a losing team's fans trying to get a match abandoned is becoming more and more widespread. There have been numerous cases of managers and linesmen being hit by lighters, confectionary and pieces of debris from crumbling stadiums.

The inefficiency of the police doesn't help. They are obliged to take a cautious approach, at first, as a result of the legacy of the military dictatorship, when police brutality was extreme. Nipping the problem in the bud is certainly not the policy as they line up with riot shields in front of the fighting, but taking little action.

So confident are rioting fans that they stride up to the police lines, goading them in front of their faces. Only when things become completely out of hand is the order given to randomly fire plastic bullets into the crowd, serving only to exacerbate the situation and produce more chaos and mayhem.

So, with no hard sanctions in place, the new season kicked off in February on a wing and prayer, but in the very first match, River Plate's "Borrachos de la Tablon" (Drunks of the Table) fought among themselves for the leadership of their group.

Drunks of the Picnic Tables might be more appropriate because their choice of location for the pre-planned showdown was the club's family barbecue and swimming pool area, crucially just out of range of the stadium's CCTV cameras. Women and children were caught in the cross-fire and eye-witnesses told of a bloody pitched battle that left several injured and bullet holes and blood stains on the picnic tables.

The shock and fall out from the "Battle of the Barbeque" has finally forced the government to take action, telling the AFA in no uncertain terms to sort its house out. River Plate's stadium has been closed for five games and the leaders of the warring factions were rounded up in dawn raids, with weapons and documents found at their homes. The justice minister took the unprecedented step of calling the River Plate president, Jose Maria Aguilar, to Congress for questioning.

The day before Aguilar spoke, police were sent to search the River Plate complex. They knew exactly what they were looking for. Inside the stadium that played host to the 1978 World Cup final is a cupboard with a double padlock. When the authorities asked for the keys, none of the staff knew where they were kept so the Justice Department ordered police to break the locks. They found a stash of knives, both long and small, baseball bats and flags.

Aguilar denied any wrong-doing as he was cross examined by ministers. He spoke like a skilled politician himself, turning the problem on its head. "It's a structural problem," he said, "far beyond the control of a mere football president."

Yes, of course, he knew the hooligan leaders personally. They were club members and went to every game, home and away, but he denied having any relationship with them or handing out free tickets. Was he surprised weapons were found in the stadium? Not at all. He would have been surprised if they hadn't found anything, and he then stated that while the practice of politicians, businesses, and trade unions using "Bravas" at demonstrations continued, there will always be violence in society.

Aguilar also explained how the Barrabravas held a certain cultural attraction for the middle classes. When the team travelled away, Alan Schlenker's autograph was as sought after as those of the players. Schlenker was one of the leaders fighting for overall control of the River Barra. Subsequent articles in the press revealed that Schlenker is a qualified pilot who took his exams for Aerolineas Argentinas, the country's national flag carrier last year.

Across the city, down in the port area of Buenos Aires, home of River's big city rivals Boca Juniors, Rafael Di Zeo, the leader of La Doce (Twelfth Man), was still at large until recently, free to organise the enormous terrace flags and drums and openly manning the turnstiles on match days, deciding who can enter for free, in full view of the police - and this despite a four-year suspended prison sentence for violence hanging over him.

The grey haired 45-year-old has a high profile and is frequently interviewed in the national press, bragging how he has the phone numbers of people in power.

In the cafeteria area in the main stand of Boca's Bombonera stadium, photos of players and supporter groups adorn the walls, including pictures of Di Zeo presenting awards at members' dinners.

When the Boca Juniors players visited a hospital for sick children last year, Di Zeo and La Doce turned up as well, signing autographs for the kids and posing for the press.

These are the same bunch of do-gooders who were filmed on CCTV brutally beating up a Chacarita fan with wooden planks inside Boca's stadium, six against one, with Di Zeo leading the charge.

They were expected to receive sentences of up to 12 years in a showpiece trial last year, but the Chacarita fan changed his story at the last moment, amid suspicion that he had been bought off. Shorter suspended sentences were handed out instead.

However, following the current government crackdown and a confusing set of new lawsuits against Di Zeo, it now seems likely that he and the "first line" of La Doce, a group of a dozen burly men all in their late-30s to mid-40s, will finally be sent to prison. Di Zeo was on the run until last week when he gave himself up, but prior to his surrender he warned of what would happen were he to be imprisoned. "With me inside - there'll be more violence than ever."

Ex-referee Javier Castrili, who is now in charge of overseeing security at football stadiums, has always advocated a hard line and frequently cites the English model as the example to follow. He wants all-seater stadia, CCTV at all grounds, points deductions, tough sentences for hooligans and life bans for any club directors who provide tickets and free travel to known hooligans. But, of course, building new stadia will cost money that Argentina hasn't got.

The salient issue of club ownership has been raised as well. Ironically, while in Britain there is growing government support for Supporters' Trusts, democracy and fan representation, in Argentina, where they have all that, they are calling for the exact opposite.

Argentinian law currently states that football clubs must be non-profitable organisations, owned exclusively by supporters. Clubs are only allowed to be taken over by private enterprise if they have gone bankrupt.

Now, though, the government looks to Europe and sees that privately-owned clubs don't have the problems brought by democracy and elections. In Argentina, with hooligan groups counting for so many votes, it is in the interests of club presidents to keep them sweet, supplying them with free tickets and travel, turning a blind eye to criminal activities.

And, of course, when that system is taken to its logical extreme, the Barrabravas can actually end up running the club.

Ex-Velez Sarsfield president Raul Gamez made no secret of his past when he gave a remarkable interview to sports daily Ole last year. He began, like most club chairmen or presidents, highlighting good stewardship and financial stability, but then went off on a rather different tangent.

"Yes, I used to be brava, I did six months in prison for attacking the police and smashing up the place. I was a bit crazy in those days," he said.

Yet, despite the violent undercurrents, there are still plenty of women, children and old people who attend matches. With tickets at very reasonable prices, football is still very much the people's game. The atmosphere can be electric.

Clubs like Boca and River attract tourists from Europe, especially Britain, a home from home for the pre all-seater generation - that unmistakeable whiff of burgers and urine ascending the steps that lead to open terraces, with non-stop singing and drumming that starts even before the match. Huge surges when a goal is scored.

The big question for AFA and the Argentinian government is how to maintain that special atmosphere whilst removing the violence?