Brazil
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History is not the same as putting two and two together, nor is the historian a clairvoyant. History has very little to do with the accumulation of data, nor is it a linear process, and it is certainly not predictable. Characteristics of the past remain interwoven in the fabric of today’s society and cannot be removed by goodwill or by decree. A large portion of the population still lives in abject poverty and, despite the progress that has been made, Brazil is still one of the world champions of social inequality. In many parts of the country women earn less than men for doing the same work, and the violence of men against women continues at very high levels, often euphemistically referred to as ‘crimes of passion’. New types of family, formed by single mothers or same-sex couples, coexist with widespread sexism and homophobia, expressed in violent attacks on women and gay people. People of African descent – no matter how dark or light they are – despite new affirmative-action policies, are still subject to racial discrimination, which is all too evident in labour and education statistics, mortality rates and criminalization. The playing field is still uneven and racial prejudice is ubiquitous in public venues such as restaurants, clubs, theatres and football stadiums, not to mention in private ones. The rights of the indigenous peoples to differential treatment and the ownership of land are gradually being recognized, but when economic interests intervene, these hard-earned rights fall by the wayside.
Lastly, although since 1980 torture has no longer been an official policy of the state, it is still widely practised (and covered up) by the police, especially in the favelas and poorest residential districts, where the violence and the humiliation of the population – especially young black people – are at their worst. These situations reveal the precarious nature of the citizenship of certain social groups and the segregation to which they are still subjected. There is no democracy in such cases. Brazil’s history of slavery and its twentieth-century dictatorships seem to have left an indelible mark. Personal scores are still being settled by hired henchmen or with the help of authorities. And such practices are by no means restricted to any one social class or group.
This book leaves many questions unanswered. Will Brazil consolidate the Republic and the values enshrined in the 1988 Constitution? Will the country manage to maintain sustainable growth without destroying its natural resources? What role will Brazil play on the international stage? History is open-ended and is open to many interpretations. This book has come to an end, but not to a conclusion. It is not a definitive textbook, but herein we have tried to describe the long road toward Brazilian citizenship. The challenges for transforming the country’s imperfect republic are many. Institutions continue to be fragile, corruption is deep-rooted, and public funds are used for private ends. The great utopia may be the embracing of truly republican values that will lead to a country for all Brazilians. This could be the beginning of a new chapter in Brazilian history. After all, now that Brazil has achieved democracy, the Republic awaits.
Afterword to the English Edition
Like people, countries occasionally experience abrupt changes – that which was seemingly calm yesterday is now in turmoil. The manuscript of Brazil: A Biography, in its original Portuguese version, was completed in January 2015. We ended the book with no categorical predictions regarding Brazil’s future; nonetheless, our outlook was full of expectations and hope. The political gains gradually accrued over the course of the longest period of democracy in Brazil’s history (since 1988, when the current constitution became law) seemed irreversible. In our Conclusion, we mentioned several positive indicators: an increasing approximation between public policy and the reality of the Brazilian people; a decrease in social and economic disparity; improvement in the standard of living among the poorest in the country, and progress in civil rights. Brazil’s democracy was strong, borne of choices made by the Brazilian people during the long transition from military dictatorship to democracy and of the weight of the 1988 Constitution. In our opinion, the three governmental powers – the Legislative, the Executive and the Judicial – were sound and well balanced. Strong institutions are the sign of a healthy democracy, and that was our sense of the state of affairs in Brazil upon finishing our book.
In fact, by early 2015, progress in Brazil had been considerable, although not altogether flawless. We observed that, while democracy had taken hold and the Republic enjoyed a constitutional regime, citizens were still not fully participating in topics of general interest to the country. Appropriate public administration mechanisms were not in place – it was therefore challenging to fully support their initiatives to meet public service needs. At that time, and to this day, the Brazilian government has failed to guarantee rights, especially civil rights. All too frequently there have been acts of racism, homophobia and femicide. There have also been aggressive attacks on Brazil’s indigenous populations and on their land rights, as well as on quilombo residents. In addition, policies and infrastructure for people living with all sorts of handicaps are still lacking.
It is safe to say that our assessment three years ago was correct: the Republic was a work in progress. But we were mistaken in our somewhat euphoric belief that Brazil was firmly established on the road to democracy.
At least up until 2014, according to the usual short-term indicators of the quality and strength of democracy – procedural, comparative and historical – Brazil seemed to be on track. The country was heading into the twenty-first century with a vigorous, albeit new, democracy. After all, the two strongest political parties – the Brazilian Social Democracy Party (Partido da Social Democracia Brasileiro, PSDB) and the Workers’ Party (Partido dos Trabalhadores, PT) – alternated their terms in power. It was broadly understood and accepted that the popular vote was the only legitimate means to political leadership. Institutions were sound, elections took place at regular intervals and the transference of power was seamless. In fact, there was more transference of power between 1985 and 2015 than there had been in any other period of republicanism in Brazil. Furthermore, public policies adopted by governing bodies had to be submitted to the popular vote, including economic inequality legislation. The list of rights, mainly civil rights, was greatly lengthened. In terms of the economy, Brazil’s democracy allowed for increased stability, with hyperinflation under control and a stronger currency.1 All of this occurred during a period of thirty years, which left the Brazilian people with a sense of optimism.
But something went wrong between 2015 and 2017. In spite of the fact that, by mid-2014, there were constant reports in the press of government corruption and the Judiciary was plagued with the same issue, there was still a sense of control. The ability to face the problem of corruption seemed greater than its propensity to become a pervasive issue. Unfortunately, that assessment was erroneous. Dizzying changes were to come. The strength of Brazil’s democracy has been put to the test. Democratic procedures have been in crisis, and facts have become ever more difficult to ascertain. All of this has been going on while Brazil’s economy has plunged into a downward spiral right before our very eyes.
Historians tend to be cautious, often warning resignedly that history is only predictable with hindsight. They have learned that time does not run a straight course, nor does it necessarily evolve. From the viewpoint of the present, blurred by the unfolding of contemporaneous circumstances, very little can be seen on the horizon beyond the familiar twists and turns. Naturally, current events had repercussions on the writing of our book, but in the following few pages we would like to point to several processes now under way that we had no way of predicting at the time.
The truth is, looking back, we can say that something was already amiss in the country. Starting in 2012, the signs were increasingly evident, especially in the economy.2 Until then, there had been full employment and a healthy labour market. Nonetheless, there were some indications that public finances were in trouble, due to the high fiscal deficit. Still, the government had its own agenda for the economy and was determined to stay the course. In
a televised broadcast in April 2012, then President Dilma Rousseff announced a decrease in real interest rates and an increase in lines of credit to consumers, through public sector banks. In May, consumer electricity costs were reduced; and in August a public works package was announced, involving the railways, highways and airports. The plans were meant to increase investment, generate jobs and improve the country’s infrastructure and logistical capabilities.
The economic programme adopted during President Dilma Rousseff’s first term relied on State participation in the stimulation of Brazil’s industrial sector. The National Bank of Economic and Social Development (Banco Nacional de Desenvolvimento Econômico e Social, BNDES) was called upon to invest in companies determined by the government. The strategy was to relieve their tax burden and to control capital inflows from abroad to protect Brazilian industry. The plan was called New Economic Matrix (Nova Matriz Econômica).
But the results of the plan were grave. While it is true that Brazil was severely impacted by the second phase of the international financial crisis, whose epicentre was in Europe, as well as by the initial economic slowdown in China, the major cause of the negative effect can be blamed on government economic policy. By forcing interest rates down, President Rousseff put herself at loggerheads with the financial sector, which generally faced increased credit risk and the expectation of reduced profits. Meanwhile, the tax exemptions granted to stimulate business activity expended public resources without obtaining the benefits of renewed growth.
The problems that had been building up during the period before President Rousseff’s term in office snowballed into an avalanche. For example, the National Treasury (Tesouro Nacional) had to come up with the funds to back the decreased cost of electrical power the government had promised; Petrobras (Brazil’s national oil company) faced terrifying losses – close to 50 billion US dollars by year-end 2014 – because of government-enforced artificial price controls on petrol established by President Rousseff; deterioration of the country’s fiscal situation adversely affected international investors’ confidence in the future of Brazil’s economy; and inflation increased. In 2015, the economy was in free fall: the country went into recession; inflation persisted; the cycle of high interest rates started all over again – reaching 14.25 per cent a year; investment collapsed; and the shrinking economy began to threaten the labour market. The warning signs came from abroad as well, with international credit-rating agencies and international multilateral institutions such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank sounding the alarm.
The problems in the economy were an issue. Yet there was another pressing complication in dialogue with the economic predicament: civic unrest, which manifested itself in a series of demonstrations held throughout Brazil revealed a tremendous amount of pent-up frustration. On 7 June 2013, the Free Pass Movement (Movimento Passe Livre, MPL), made up of militants from various political parties on the left, took to the streets in São Paulo demanding that recent price increases in public transport be revoked. Surprisingly, the demonstrations, initially thought to be local, washed over the country in a great wave, carrying with them enormous crowds, plans and hopes. In June 2013, the protests took place in yet more venues, uniting thousands of people who seemingly appeared from nowhere – and yet they came from everywhere. Four hundred and seventy protests swept through twelve capitals and every large city in Brazil, exposing extreme dissatisfaction and frustration, in addition to promoting a somewhat chaotic agenda for change. The latter questioned everything, from the high salaries of footballers to the low salaries of teachers. There was to be no impunity for politicians and corruption, government spending policies were criticized for the lack of investment in Brazil’s infrastructure and there were demands for educational reforms. The only thing inviolable was the exclusion of major political parties as a source of reform.3 The plans included a disruption of the mega events scheduled for the following years: the 2013 FIFA Confederations Cup; the 2014 FIFA World Cup; and the 2016 Olympics. According to the astonishing announcement in the 18 June 2013 edition of the Folha de S. Paulo newspaper, ‘Thousands will take to the streets in protest against everything.’
In the heat of the moment, one had the impression the bottle had popped and there was no getting the cap back on. The last straw was São Paulo governor Geraldo Alckmin’s4 violent police crackdown, which on 13 June led to 128 injured protesters among the throng on the main avenue of the city, Avenida Paulista. The brutality of the police repression altered public opinion and had national repercussions. The demonstrations became larger and larger – on 13 June approximately 6,500 people had turned out for the protest on Avenida Paulista; on 17 June, there were 65,000.
The alarm had been sounded, but it was difficult to interpret. ‘Within two weeks, the Brazil everyone had held up as a success story – the country that had checked inflation, integrated the marginalized and was eliminating abject poverty; in short, the country that had become an international model – had been substituted by another country all together, where public transportation, education and health care were a disaster and whose politicians were an embarrassment, without even taking the rampant corruption into consideration. Which of the two countries was real?’ asked essayist and literary critic Roberto Schwarz.5 And he was not the only one confused. The government delayed its response for nearly an entire month. It took until the end of June for President Rousseff, her popularity at an all time low, to go on television to present a rather abstract series of policies (of complex implementation) with regards to the protests. She spoke about fiscal responsibility, controlling inflation, a plebiscite to create a new assembly to conduct political reform, and new investment in transportation, healthcare and education – but virtually nothing was put into practice.
It was also disheartening to observe a new streak within these protests. In fact, they were radically distinct from any type of turmoil previously seen. They went far beyond previous demonstrations over administrative lethargy and government obtuseness. In broad terms, at the outset these protests were initiated by a libertarian flurry, a sort of self-absorbed activism. A strong sense of individual militancy and a regressive political imaginary surrounded the movement. That was the novelty. Antagonistic ideals permeated the atmosphere, leading to proposals and types of mobilization that at once separated and brought people together.
In part, the difference in the demonstrations that began in 2015 was their form. They were mainly organized through movements, groups and individuals that acted autonomously and manifested various types of militancy. They did not rely on structured rallies with established chains of command. Instead, they were mainly set up over social media. But there was another side to this, soon to emerge: the so-called ‘black blocs’. These protesters wore masks and looked militaristic in their dark clothing. They claimed to be libertarian, but their attitude was standardized, violent and aggressive in an attempt to imitate the self-defence demonstrators in Seattle and Berlin. They entered the scene shattering windows in shops, banks and government buildings and attacking the riot police with rocks and clubs.6 And there was yet another part of this drama, less evident and more difficult to visualize, at least at that time: homogeneous groups with clearly defined goals joined together to take part in the demonstrations.
By 2013, there were already signs of this individualistic activism on the fringes of the protests. It was characterized by intransigence tempered with hatred and an increasing aversion to dialogue.7 The joining together of various interest groups – collectives, feminist movements, LGBT groups, anti-racist organizations, student groups, and so on – seemed to have been displaced, to have lost the position of power. These groups were formerly an integral part of the demonstrations and had lent them an aura of innovation. Unexpectedly, the politics of the protesters emerged as very different and divided, and their type of participation changed. The previous dynamic of the movement disappeared; the Free Pass Movement (Movimento do Pass Livre) lost control over bot
h the demonstrators and their demands.
It was quite a reversal. There had already been signs of divisions in Brazil but, over the course of the 2015–2016 demonstrations, those dividing lines became irreparable.8 The Rousseff administration was by then the main target; and corruption, the major source of discontent. Certain groups, previously silent, made themselves heard. These were characterized by conservatism and regressive opinions, such as the idea of a return to a military dictatorship, and a regressive civil and social rights agenda. Furthermore, these groups, which moved to the forefront of the protests began to control much of what went on. The consequences were astounding: the left lost control over the protests; the moderate centre withdrew, or else aligned with the right; and a pervasive hatred directed towards politicians surfaced, and exploded.
The demonstrations continued, attracting thousands of people, but the changes were now crystal clear. The demonstrators were divided, with conflicting agendas. People got involved to protest either in favour of or against the government. The type of polarization often seen abroad now took hold in a unique manner – tropical and Brazilian. Demonstrations in favour of the government always took place on weekdays, generally starting after 6 p.m. Protesters filled the streets with the colour red: their clothing, flags and sashes, ready to defend the Workers’ Party at any cost. Protests against the government usually occurred in the morning, preferably on Sundays, and participants wore mainly green and yellow, like Brazil’s national football team jersey. They demanded that President Rousseff be impeached and they accused Lula and the Workers’ Party of corruption. They also carried blow-up dolls of Lula and President Rousseff, dressed in prison garb.9