When the Portuguese arrived
In the pouring rain
He dressed the Indian
What a pity!
If it’d been a sunny day
The Indian would have undressed
The Portuguese.
Oswald de Andrade, Portuguese Error
Tupi or not tupi, that is the question.
Oswald de Andrade, Manifesto antropófago
What makes brasil, Brasil – or Brazil, Brasil? Ever since the Portuguese arrived, every generation has asked themselves this question. Some have come to more positive conclusions than others. It is not an easy question, and history is not the only key to the answer. Brazil has a short history, just five hundred years – at least if we adhere to the official narrative that it began with the arrival of the Portuguese – and a troubled one. Once aroused, history tells all and loves to engage in controversy. History rewrites concepts and myths, questions many of the assumptions about Brazil, and reveals trends and reoccurrences truly worthy of a new interpretation. And history plays with time, entangles, orders and reorders the thread. With one eye on the past, history keeps the other wide open to the present, and even to the future.
Since Brazil has been Brasil – since the country first created its identity as a nation – there has been a long history of internal conflict, violence, attempts at self-government and demands for equality – accompanied by the gradual development of human rights and citizenship. The story of Brazil is common, yet distinct. There is nothing evolutionary about Brazil’s history, in the sense of following a predictable progression of facts and data. From one side, this process looks very similar to that of all modern countries, with the struggle for individual freedoms during the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; and the struggle for collective freedoms during the twentieth century. In addition, there has been a gradual perception of a new type of right, neither individual nor collective – the right to a sustainable environment and to a national cultural heritage. But there is another side to Brazil’s story. In Brazil, the fight for political rights lagged far behind the fight for social rights. It took until the 1970s for the country to be proactive in defending civil rights, with movements for Afro-Brazilians, women and LGBTs – and for the environment, and, even then, at least initially, those movements were tentative. The exercising of some rights does not necessarily lead to the exercising of others. Nevertheless, without the guarantee of civil rights, whose normative principle is individual liberty, and without understanding that law-abiding people must have equal rights – no matter what their differences are – there is no citizenship.1
Rights are never acquired simultaneously by all social groups. The sense of what those rights are is in constant flux, as are reactions to civil rights victories. Brazilian history is inextricably linked with the ongoing fight to win rights and gain citizenship.2 As a colony the country experienced a fundamental duality – great landholdings on one side, and on the other, slavery. As an independent country, in 1822 Brazil became the only monarchy on a continent of republics. Despite its purported liberalism, the first constitution, imposed by the emperor in 1824, actually permitted a direct vote only to a small portion of freed men, it led to the concentration of power in the hands of the emperor, and it left the structure of a slave-based society untouched.
If historical remembrance is our mission, the deep-rooted and long experience of slavery cannot be overlooked. Its scars remain to this day, even in our architecture. Residential apartment buildings have a back entrance for servants and are still built with a minuscule room for the maid. Social and racial discrimination is reflected in our vocabulary – and poor people, especially those of African descent, are the constant targets of discrimination and injustice in contemporary Brazil. The very definition of slavery meant the denial of the fundamental rights of freedom and equality. In legal parlance, a slave was a person without rights, servus non habet personam3 – with no name and no past, according to the classical definition of the Romans.4 A person who has no origin is a foreigner wherever he or she goes. Of course, slaves in Brazil rewrote that dictum, through rebellion, activism and negotiation. But at the heart of our community the notion remains, and persists stubbornly, that there are men and women who are by nature different – that they are separate because of their history, their biology and their condition. The destiny of Brazil’s poor and mixed-race underclass – the vast majority of the population – has followed much the same pattern, entrapped in a structure of domination, the strong against the weak, coronelismo. The system has sustained the dependence of individuals on the powerful, rather than promoting the gradual acquisition of civil and social rights. ‘The favour’, virtually a national currency in Brazil, is in fact the denial of individual rights.5 It confers inflated powers on a handful of individuals to the enormous detriment of legitimate government.
Although during the Second Reign the construction of a national identity6 became a priority – in the form of Romantic Indianism – it was only under the Republic that the idea of ‘Brazilianness’ began to take root: the feeling of belonging to a community, a society which recognized that its unity stemmed from the collective experience of being Brazilian.7 Brazilians were no longer subjects, they were now citizens of the Republic – a group of individuals united under one law and by their collective existence. It was a process that had begun during the First Republic when a form of sub-citizenship was first introduced.8 After the abolition of slavery in 1888, the former slaves were not recognized as equals and were referred to either as freedmen or as ‘13th of Mays’, in a derogatory reference to the date of the Lei Áurea.9 The assumption was that the law had decreed freedom but not equality,10 an assumption that was justified by the racial theories of the time, put forth in the name of science. On the other hand, the republican experience started in that context, with the first struggles for equality, labour rights and full citizenship. If the political moment resulted in strikes and public demonstrations, led by Brazilians and immigrants, policies of social exclusion also showed the new face of the regime – which had only just begun.
With the ascension of Getúlio Vargas during the 1930s, extensive social legislation was introduced guaranteeing legal protection for workers. But there was a paradox: it was offered at the cost of individual freedoms. Getúlio Vargas’s dictatorship promoted social rights while suppressing political ones. The 1946 Constitution marked the beginning of a period of democracy, the first in Brazilian history. This period maintained the social advances of the Vargas era while reintroducing individual and political rights as the basis for the exercise of citizenship.
Then, there was to be one more dictatorship, this time military, brought on by the coup d’état of 1964, which would once again block the path to civil and political rights. Since that time, Brazilians have tended to think of dictatorships as being exclusively military, but President Vargas’s Estado Novo – which suppressed all political rights and maintained the arbitrary rule of its governors by force – clearly refutes this idea. It was only after the 1988 Constitution – appropriately called the ‘Citizens’ Constitution’ – that a consistent and lasting period of solid democratic institutions and full civil liberties was under way. In the opening ceremonies of the 1987 Constituent Assembly, Ulysses Guimarães unequivocally declared, ‘The nation wants to change; the nation must change; the nation will change.’ He was right, Brazil changed. Thirty years ago, no one could have imagined the country would elect a cultured academic like Fernando Henrique Cardoso, a labour leader like Lula, or a woman and former guerrilla like Ms Dilma Rousseff as presidents of Brazil.
But at the investiture of the first civilian president after twenty-one years of military rule, in 1985, no one could foresee the direction that the re-democratization of the country would take. The creation of contemporary Brazil has been a task of painstaking reconstruction. Political institutions have been consolidated, there is a separation of the powers, elections are free and regular, and people can express their political views freely. Democracy is no longer seen as a means to an end, but as an end in itself. Equal rights are now at the centre of public debate, affirming the rights of all citizens within a context of social inequality, all the while incorporating new, individualized rights for the equal treatment of minority groups – the elderly, the LGBT community and children.
Nevertheless, extreme social injustice still exists alongside democracy in Brazil. Although the country now has the seventh-largest economy in the world, social inequality is among the most acute in Latin America when measured in terms of education, wages and life expectancy.11 The system is very far from being truly republican. Politics is still largely based on cronyism, within both the political system and the country’s public institutions. Although the number of voters has grown exponentially, this has not been accompanied by a change in the unethical procedures that characterize the electoral system and the workings of the political parties. Corruption runs the risk of becoming endemic due to the constant misappropriation of public funds and the lack of control over government policies.
Brazil entered the twenty-first century with one certainty: the consolidation of democracy is our greatest legacy for future generations. There is no political regime that is entirely democratic; democracy is a concept that is constantly shifting, being adapted and expanded along the way. If Brazil wants to move forward alongside the other modern democracies around the world, the main challenge is the present. What is the agenda going forward? Which path will Brazil choose to take?
During his two consecutive terms as president, Fernando Henrique Cardoso, who governed Brazil from 1995 to 2002, was successful in fighting inflation and in the restructuring of government funds, which led to economic growth. He is also one of the founders of the Brazilian Social Democratic Party (PSDB), and has contributed to its consolidation and strength. His government stands out, among other reasons, for having invested in strategic public sector careers, in a clear break with President Vargas’s project. The Cardoso administration implemented the first programme of wealth redistribution, which gave benefits to poor families so they could keep their children in school. President Fernando Henrique Cardoso’s government was also active in the social arena, with a programme of food grants and the eradication of child labour. The first lady, anthropologist Dr Ruth Cardoso, worked with her husband and was behind many social projects that attended to the poor population, such as Comunidade Solidária, Capacitação Solidária and Alfabetização Solidária.
With the election of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva in 2002, for the first time Brazil’s working classes became a power to be reckoned with. In a smooth transition of power, a working-class man who had left the drought-stricken interior of Pernambuco for São Paulo as a child – accompanied by his illiterate mother and seven siblings – became president of Brazil. Lula is a left-wing leader with a trade union background, who won the elections at the head of the Workers’ Party (PT), which he had helped to found during the years of repression in the 1970s.
With President Lula’s election, democracy in Brazil was extended to many sectors of the population that had previously been excluded. President Lula’s government reduced poverty, inequality and social exclusion. The improvement of working conditions included registered employment, increased credit and a higher minimum wage, which grew by almost 60 per cent between 2000 and 2013. The Family Benefit programme, which was created in 2004, permitted the direct redistribution of wealth to the poor and extremely poor. In 2013, 50 million people – 26 per cent of the population – received benefits. Democratic procedures continued unaltered and large-scale policies were implemented to expand the network of social protection measures to vast numbers of Brazilians.12
Although democracy has moved forward, the Republic has stayed on the drawing board. A republic is not only a political regime – it is the res publica: that which belongs to the public, that which is in the public domain, that which is in the common interest, as opposed to the interests of private parties. The main virtue of a republic is its affirmation of the value of political freedom, of equality among its citizens and their right to participate in public life. Its greatest enemy is corruption.
Corruption is by no means exclusive to Brazil; it exists of course in most countries. But it has always been a part of Brazilian history, in one form or another.13 That is perhaps why, within Brazil, corruption is generally seen as an intrinsic characteristic of the country, as if it were endemic, an unavoidable destiny. This notion is reaffirmed by common practices – getting away with whatever you can, entering politics to misappropriate public funds – which have supposedly become a part of the Brazilian character and of a national ‘culture of corruption’. This viewpoint, quite apart from being harmful, is an oversimplification. It is a stereotype that actually impedes the fight against a phenomenon that is highly complex. Most importantly, it is a viewpoint that underestimates the outrage most Brazilians feel about such practices.
Brazil has been changing its public and private behaviour with regards to corruption. The country has progressed in terms of prosecuting both government employees and private-sector individuals, and diverse control practices have been implemented. There is now an independent Federal Prosecutor’s Office with guaranteed administrative and functional autonomy; Courts of Auditors to oversee the collection and distribution of public funds; and Congressional Committees of Inquiry, which institutionalize Legislative authority over the other powers of the Republic, and over society itself. In addition, the Controller General of the Union investigates irregularities and oversees government employee activity in order to maintain legality. It also standardized the Quarentena, a set of norms that limits the participation of formal civil servants in the management of situations where he or she may benefit from that condition.
However, there is undeniable evidence that corruption is deeply rooted in Brazilian public life. Recent denunciations of the involvement of top government officials have shown that corruption continues and that successive governments have been ineffective in combating the practice. Recent history is littered with examples. During Fernando Henrique Cardoso’s two terms of office there were accusations of the manipulation of figures and the misappropriation of funds, above all during the privatization of state-owned companies – the National Development Bank (BNDES), Telebrás and the Companhia Vale do Rio Doce – and of the bribery of congressmen to pass the law that permitted the president’s re-election (and that of all future presidents). During President Lula’s first term of office the scandal of the ‘monthly payments’ erupted: the systematic payment to deputies from various political parties for their support of the government in Congress. The scandal involved the highest echelons of the Workers’ Party and resulted in the imprisonment of members of the country’s political and economic elite.
Those accused during the scandal were found guilty by the Supreme Court, after four months of debates that were broadcast live. There was unprecedented interest shown by the Brazilian people, who agreed with the verdict of guilty handed down by the court. Then, at the end of Dilma Rousseff’s first term in the presidency, the Petrobras scandal erupted. This involved conspiracy, corruption, money laundering and administrative incompetence in Brazil’s most valuable state-owned company, previously the proud symbol of economic independence. The investigations, which are still under way, have led to the imprisonment of leading executives from six of the country’s largest companies, Camargo Correia, UTC Engenharia, OAS, Mendes Júnior, Engevix and Galvão Engenharia, which are all construction companies. The executives have been found guilty of under-the-table deals involving millions and for distributing bribes to politicians in all the political parties. For the first time both sides – those who offered the bribes and those who received them – are being investigated by the Federal Prosecutor’s Office and the Federal Police, in what may, with hindsight, be seen as a turning point in the history of the Republic.
There has been public outrage that corruption on such a scale has become routine. The outrage has grown steadily as these acts have remained part of the national political scene. There is, however, a risk of the indignation over corruption becoming the raison d’être of political engagement. People could turn away from politics and participation in public life, which would lead to a loss in credibility of the democratic institutions. Corruption can only be combated through strict public controls, transparency in government, and an educational process. The average Brazilian needs to incorporate republican values. We need to live with a clear sense of the definition of public rights. This means showing respect to others – to anyone and to everyone.
The exercising of public rights was on full display in mid-2013. Many Brazilians woke up one June morning astonished to learn that an increase in bus fares in the city of São Paulo had sparked an explosion of public fury all over the country. Thousands of people, mostly young, protested on the streets of the largest cities, with an agenda that went far beyond the question of the cost of public transport. They vehemently expressed their generalized dissatisfaction and, albeit unfocused, desire for change. There were no leaders and no political speeches at the Manifestações de Junho (June Protests), as they became known. They were organized on social networks by a variety of independent movements without connections to political parties. They led to waves of consecutive protests that lasted for a short time but had a significant impact. They revealed that the government and the political system were out of touch with national sentiment. Those marching demanded improvements in education, health and basic services, and noisily denounced government corruption. The protests reconfirmed the importance of public space as an arena for citizens to demand direct participation.
But above all, the June Protests made it clear that the period of re-democratization was over. It was now a question of taking a step towards strengthening Brazil’s public institutions and expanding its democracy – which includes new claims for gender, sexual, ethnic, regional and generational equality. This is the only path to full citizenship. One of the greatest recent developments has been the demand for civil rights, for the ‘right to be different’, defended by movements of feminists, blacks, quilombolas and members of the LGBT community. For many Brazilians, citizenship is no longer defined by the right to equality, but includes the right to be different within that equality.
An important step on the path to democracy was the establishment of the National Truth Commission (CNV) in November 2011, to investigate the violations of human rights committed by government agents between 18 September 1946 and 5 October 1988.14 On 10 December 2014 the National Truth Commission delivered its final report to President Dilma Rousseff. It was a deeply symbolic act. The report – now part of Brazil’s collective memory – affirmed the rights of Brazilian citizens to address the grave human rights violations committed during the military dictatorship. The National Truth Commission questioned the reciprocal clause in the Amnesty Law and recommended that the torturers be punished, because torture is not a crime eligible for amnesty. The report, however, did not address the central point, did not uncover the truth about the facts and events, which would have revealed the truth about politics under the military dictatorship. The files have been kept by the armed forces, especially files that have been transferred to microfilm since 1972. This project has been undertaken by the information and repression agencies of the three forces. Accessing this material is still virtually impossible, thus a great opportunity has been missed. The frustration resulting from this loss is significant because it had aggravated the already challenging circumstances facing those in government posts since 1985. Among these leaders is President Dilma Rousseff, a former guerrilheira who was arrested and tortured. The lack of transparency makes it difficult for Brazilian leaders to uphold the pre-eminence of civilian rule within the democratic government.
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.