Lilia Moritz Schwarcz
and Heloisa Maria Murgel Starling
* * *
BRAZIL: A BIOGRAPHY
Contents
List of Illustrations
Maps
Introduction: ‘Brazil is Just Nearby’
1 First Came the Name, and then the Land Called Brazil
2 The Sugar Civilization: Bitter for the Many, Sweet for a Few
3 Tit for Tat: Slavery and the Naturalization of Violence
4 Gold!
5 Revolt, Conspiracy and Sedition in the Tropical Paradise
6 Ship Ahoy! A Court at Sea
7 Dom João and his Court in the Tropics
8 The Father Leaves, the Son Remains
9 Independence Habemus: Instability in the First Empire
10 Regencies, or the Sound of Silence
11 The Second Reign: At Last, a Nation in the Tropics
12 The End of the Monarchy in Brazil
13 The First Republic: The People Take to the Streets
14 Samba, Malandragem, Authoritarianism: The Birth of Modern Brazil
15 Yes, We Have Democracy!
16 The 1950s and 1960s: Bossa Nova, Democracy and Underdevelopment
17 On a Knife Edge: Dictatorship, Opposition and Resistance
18 On the Path to Democracy: The Transition to Civilian Power and the Ambiguities and Legacy of the Military Dictatorship
Conclusion: History is not Arithmetic
Afterword to the English Edition
Illustrations
Notes
Follow Penguin
For Luiz and Otávio, because, as Guimarães Rosa used to say: ‘A book may be worth all that could not be written therein.’
List of Illustrations
1. Image of the New World, wood engraving with watercolour, by Johann Freschauer, c.1505, published in Mundus Novus, by Américo Vespúcio. BPNY
2. Terra Brasilis (Tabula hec regionis magni Brasilis), manuscript map designed and illuminated on parchment, by Lopo Homen, c.1515–19. BNF
3. América, handmade colour engraving, by Johannes Blaeu, 1662, reproduced in Le Grande Atlas. BI
4. Memory of Portuguese Armadas in India … or the Book of the Armadas of India. Author unknown, c. 1497–1640. ACL
5. Landscape with Crops [The Plantation], oil on wood, by Frans Post, date unknown. s.d. MBB
6. Tapuia Woman, oil on canvas, by Albert Eckhout, 1641. MND
7. Tapuia Man, oil on canvas, by Albert Eckhout, 1641. MND
8. Slave Market in Pernambuco, watercolour on paper, by Zacharias Wagener, 1641. SK
9. Sugarcane Juicer in Brazil, China ink and pencil, by Frans Post, c.1637–44. MRBAB
10. The Conquest of the Guarapuava Fields: Captain Carneiro goes beyond the river with his comrades, who were killed while he escaped, gouache and watercolour, by Joaquim José de Miranda, 18th century. CBMPC
11. Tiradente’s Vision or The Dream of Freedom, oil on canvas, by Antônio Parreiras, 1926. UFMG
12. The Coronation of a King during the Kings’ Festival by Carlos Julião, date unknown. s.d. FBN
13. Coronation of Dom Pedro I, oil on canvas, by Jean-Baptiste Debret, 1828. BAS
14. Rua do Valongo Market, lithograph on paper, by Jean-Baptiste Debret, 1835. MCM; BBGJM and IPHAN
15. Hold of a Brazilian Slave Ship, Francis Maynell, 1845. NMM
16. Battle of Avay, oil on canvas, by Pedro Américo de Figueiredo de Melo, 1872–7. MNBA
17. Iracema, oil on canvas, by José Maria de Medeiros, 1881. MNBA
18. Proclamation of the Republic at the Campo de Santana, oil on canvas, by Eduardo de Sá, 1889. MCM and IPHAN
19. Allegory of the Republic, by Frederico Antonio Steckel, 1898. MMGV
20. Outdoor Mass Thanksgiving Celebration for Abolition in Brazil, photograph by Antônio Luiz Ferreira, May 17, 1888. IMS
21. a) Avenida Central, Rio de Janeiro, photograph by João Martins Torres, c. 1905. FBN 88b; b) Theatro Municipal de São Paulo, photographer unknown, 1923. IMS 88; c) Areal view of the Praça da Liberdade, Belo Horizonte, photographer unknown, date unknown. s.d. APM
22. The 18 of the Fort, oil on canvas, by João Timóteo da Costa, 1924. IHGB
23. Integralist Parade, photographer unknown, 1937. APERJ
24. Brazilian Youth in Front of the Palácio Tiradentes, photographer unknown, 1941. AN
25. Candomblé Daughters-of-the-Saint Initiation Ritual, photograph by José Medeiros, 1951. IMS
26. The Embarkation of Getúlio Vargas’s Body, photographer unknown, 1954. AN
27. Juscelino Kubitscheck in a Brazilian-made Car, photographer unknown, 1956. AN
28. Construction of the Brasilia-Acre Vilhena Highway, photographer unknown, 1960. AN
29. Geisel, photographed by Orlando Brito, May 1977. Private Collection
30. Lula giving a speech to striking workers in the ABC region of greater São Paulo, including Santo André, São Bernardo do Campo, and São Caetano do Sul, photograph by Fernando Pereira, 1979. CPDOC-JB
31. Duel in MC (hip-hop competition), photograph by Pablo Bernardo, 2012.
Introduction: ‘Brazil is Just Nearby’
It’s good to know the joyful reaction in the city [Rio de Janeiro] to the abolition of slavery, in 1888, was felt all over the country. It could not have been otherwise, as in everyday life the injustice of its origins was felt by all. Where I went to school, a state-run institution in Rua do Rezende, the children were delighted. I recall that our teacher, D. Tereza Pimentel do Amaral, a highly intelligent woman, explained to us what it really meant; but with the simplicity of a child, all that I could think was: free! free! I thought we could all now do as we liked; that from then on there would be no limits to the progress we dreamt of. But how far we are from that! Still so trapped in the cobwebs of prejudice, the rules and the laws! […] These memories are good; they have a whiff of nostalgia and and lend us a feeling of eternity. Inflexible time, the offspring and brother of Death, gradually kills aspirations, destroying our hopes, leaving us with only sorrow and our recollections of the past – often mere trifles, but which are always a consolation.
The author of this passage is Lima Barreto. Journalist, essayist and columnist of the city, he was one of the few Brazilian writers to define himself as black – both as a man and in his writing – and this despite living in a country where the censuses showed that the majority of inhabitants were black and mestizo. The passage does not appear to have been written for posterity. This emotional outburst was scribbled on the back of a piece of paper in the War Ministry, where the writer worked as a clerk; a government employee, relatively low in the hierarchy of civil servants.
His father, João Henriques de Lima Barreto, who had connections to the monarchy, was one of the first to lose his job under the new republican government; he found employment in a warehouse and was subsequently put in charge of an asylum. In 1902 he was diagnosed as ‘mentally insane’ and forced to retire from his government post. Insanity, which at the time was thought to be a result of a racial degeneration resulting from miscegenation, was to pursue his son throughout his life; Lima Barreto was interned in the National Hospital for the Insane on two occasions, in 1914 and 1919. The words ‘madness’, ‘despondency’ and ‘exclusion’ frequently appear in the writer’s work and to a large extent define his generation.
There seems to be nothing random or arbitrary about the passage. It reveals some of the persistent traits of Brazil’s short history; at least, the history that begins in 1500 with the country’s ‘discovery’, as it is referred to by some, though ‘invasion’ would be a more accurate term. Although these five centuries of the nation’s existence have been marked by a wide diversity of events, in differing political and cultural co
ntexts, certain stubbornly insistent traits can be observed. Among these has been precisely the challenging and tortuous process of building citizenship. As this book will demonstrate, there have been occasions when the public has demonstrated civic-mindedness and enthusiasm, for example when slavery was abolished in 1888, as mentioned by Lima Barreto. When Princess Isabel announced the long-awaited decree from the balcony of the Paço Imperial, people crowded into the square below. Although eventually enacted by the government, the law, known as the Lei Áurea, was largely the result of the pressure of public opinion. As important as it was, the law nonetheless did very little to integrate those Brazilians who had enjoyed neither citizenship nor rights for so long. It illustrates a recurring pattern. Many such acts were followed by political and social setbacks: projects that failed to produce an inclusive society; a Republic devoid of republican values, as described by Lima Barreto.
This is the reason why comings and goings, advances and setbacks are so much a part of Brazilian history, a history that might be characterized as ‘mestizo’, in a sense, like the Brazilian people. It is a history providing multiple, and at times ambivalent answers, one that cannot be interpreted in terms of the traditionally celebrated dates and events; nor can it be traced through objective considerations alone, nor in terms of a clear-cut evolution. Brazil’s history is an amalgam generating different forms of ‘memory’. It is ‘mestizo’ not only because it is a ‘mixture’, but also, clearly, a ‘separation’. In a country characterized by the power of the landowners – many of whom own immense estates, each the size of a city – authoritarianism and personal interest have always been deeply rooted, undermining the free exercise of civic power, weakening public institutions and consequently the struggle for people’s rights. There is a popular Brazilian proverb, ‘if you steal a little you’re a thief, if you steal a lot you’re a chief’, as if to legitimize the notion – highly controversial and much discussed today – that the wealthy and powerful are exempt, citizens above suspicion.
There is a further trait which, as a social rather than a natural construction, is not endemic, but is nevertheless shockingly resistant to improvement and a constant presence in Brazilian history. The logic and language of violence are deeply embedded determinants of Brazilian culture. Violence has characterized Brazilian history since the earliest days of colonization, marked as they were by the institution of slavery. This history of violence has permeated Brazilian society as a whole, spreading throughout, virtually naturalized. Although slavery is no longer practised in Brazil, its legacy casts a long shadow. The experience of violence and pain is repeated, dispersed, and persists in modern Brazilian society, affecting so many aspects of people’s lives.
Brazil was the last Western country to abolish slavery and today it continues to be the champion of social inequality and racism, which, albeit veiled, is equally perverse. Although there is no legal form of discrimination, the poor, and above all black people, are the most harshly treated by the justice system, have the shortest life span, the least access to higher education and to highly qualified jobs. The indelible mark of slavery conditions Brazilian culture; the country defines itself on the basis of gradations of skin colour. Whereas those who achieve success become ‘whiter’, those who become impoverished become ‘darker’. But Brazilians’ self-identity does not end with this porous sense of ethnicity, for there is racial inclusion in many of the country’s best-known cultural activities: capoeira, candomblé, samba, football. Brazilian music and culture are ‘mestizo’ in both their origin and singularity. Nevertheless, the numerous processes of social exclusion cannot be ignored; they are reflected in the limited access to entertainment and leisure, to the employment market and to health services (affecting birth rate), and in the daily intimidation by the police, where racial profiling is the norm.
To a certain extent, this amalgam of colours and customs, the mixture of races, has formed the image of Brazil. On the one hand, this mixture was consolidated by violence, by the forced importation of peoples, cultures and experiences into the country. Far from any alleged attempt at social harmony, the different races were deliberately intermingled. This resulted from the purchase of Africans brought to Brazil by force in far larger numbers than to any other country. Brazil received more than 40 per cent of all slaves that were brought from Africa to work on the plantations in Portuguese America – a total of around 3.8 million individuals. Today, 60 per cent of the country’s population is made up of blacks and ‘browns’; it could thus be ranked as the most populated ‘African’ country, with the exception of Nigeria. Furthermore, despite the numerous controversies, it is estimated that in 1500 the native population was between 1 million and 8 million, of which between 25 per cent and 95 per cent were decimated after the ‘meeting’ with the Europeans.
On the other hand, it is undeniable that the same mixture of races, unequalled in any other country, generated a society that was defined by mixed marriages, rhythms, arts, sports, aromas, cuisine and literary expression. It could be said that the ‘Brazilian soul’ is multicoloured. The variety of Brazilian faces, features, ways of thinking and seeing the country are evidence of how deeply rooted the mixture of races is, and of how it has produced new cultures born from its hybrid nature and variety of experiences. Cultural diversity is perhaps one of the most important aspects of the country, deeply marked and conditioned by ‘separation’ but also by the ‘mixture’ resulting from the long process of mestiçagem.
Although the result of centuries-old discriminatory practices, Brazil’s mixed-race soul – born of the mixture of Amerindians, Africans and Europeans – provides for new perspectives. There is a multiplicity of meanings in the culture produced by a country that does not obey the established correlations between the dominator, on the one hand, and the dominated on the other – European and Amerindian, white and African. As Riobaldo Tatarana, one of Guimarães Rosa’s most important fictional characters, once said, ‘held captive inside its little earthy destiny, the tree opens so many arms’ – so too, with its hybrid soul, Brazil has many arms. Brazil cannot be categorized, by way of blurring the most obvious cultural practices; the country is both a part of and distinct from the rest of the world – but always Brazilian.
And the country has many characteristics. Lima Barreto concludes his text with a sarcastic outburst: ‘We keep on living stubbornly, hoping, hoping … For what? The unexpected, which may occur tomorrow or sometime in the future; who knows, a sudden stroke of luck? A hidden treasure in the garden?’ This is Brazil’s national obsession, which the historian Sérgio Buarque de Holanda wrote about in his 1936 seminal work Raízes do Brasil, a country on the lookout for the daily miracle, or some unexpected saviour. He called the trait ‘Bovarism’, using the concept in reference to ‘an invincible disenchantment with our own reality’. Since then, the idea has been adopted by the Carioca (inhabitant of Rio) literati to describe the Brazilian addiction to ‘foreignisms’, to ‘copying everything as if it were its own raw material’.
The term ‘bovarismo’ originates with Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, and defines the altered sense of reality when a person thinks of himself or herself as someone else. This psychological state generates chronic dissatisfaction, produced by the contrast between illusions and aspirations, and, above all, by the continuous disparity between these illusions and reality. Now imagine this same phenomenon transferred from an individual to an entire community that conceives itself as something that it is not and is waiting for some unexpected event that will transform its dismal reality. According to Buarque de Holanda (and Lima Barreto), all Brazilians have an element of Madame Bovary.
At football matches, an iconic metaphor for Brazilian nationality, everyone waits for ‘something to happen’ that will save the game. People cross their fingers in the hope that some magical intervention will fall from the skies (alleviating malaise and solving all problems). Immediatism takes the place of planning substantive, long-term changes. The current fashion is for
Brazilians to identify themselves as members of the BRICS, and to cling to the belief that the country has joined the ranks of Russia, India, China and South Africa because of the extraordinary economic growth of recent years, and with a greater degree of autonomy.1 If Brazil has truly achieved such remarkable economic growth – and is really the seventh largest economy in the world, not to mention the country’s enormous, and little exploited, natural resources – it should not be ignoring serious social problems in the areas of transport, health, education and housing which, although there has been considerable progress, are still woefully inadequate.
‘Bovarism’ is also implicit in a very Brazilian form of collective evasion, which allows Brazilians to reject the country as it really is and imagine a quite different one – since the real Brazil is unsatisfactory and, worse still, citizens feel impotent regarding their ability to make changes. In the void between what Brazilians are and how they perceive themselves, nearly all possible identities have been explored: white, black, mulatto, savage, North American, European, and now, BRICS. The tropical version of Hamlet’s ‘To be or not to be’ is ‘To be is not to be’. Or, in the words of film critic Paulo Emílio Sales Gomes, ‘the arduous construction of ourselves [that] develops in the rarefied dialectic between not being and being someone else’.
This concept also explains another local obsession: looking at ourselves in the mirror and always seeing something different. At times more French, at others more American; at times more backward, at others more advanced: but always different. In various phases of Brazilian history, this type of idealized construction of the country served to foment Brazilian nationalism.
At any rate, despite the ambiguities of the national discourse, colonial nations of the recent past, like Brazil, are obsessed with creating an identity that is comparable to an inflatable mattress. For these countries, national identity is always in question. We know, however, that identities are not essential phenomena and, far less, atemporal. On the contrary, they are dynamic, political and flexible representations, reactions to negotiations in given situations. This is perhaps the reason why Brazilians cling to the idea that this plasticity and spontaneity are an integral part of their national practices and ethos. From this viewpoint, Brazil becomes the land of improvisation where things always turn out well, and the popular proverb (with its ill-concealed certainty), ‘God is Brazilian’, can be understood. Whether by witchcraft, invoking the aid of the saints or through prayers and incantations, beliefs and religions intermingle for the desired miracle to materialize.
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