“Brasil, Ama-o, O Deixa-o”

 

“Brazil, love it or leave it” was one of the slogans of the military dictatorship (1964-85).  I remember hearing it ad nauseam when I worked in Brazil in the 1970s.  Last week, the slogan came back to me after chatting with Felipe, my dentist.  He was very depressed by the overall situation in Brazil and in Rio de Janeiro in particular.  Felipe felt that Rio was going down the drain and that the decaying process was irreversible.  Actually, a large percentage of middle-class Cariocas, as the Rio denizens are called, share Felipe’s pessimism and many of my younger friends feel like leaving the country.  They still love Brazil, but they despair the country’s permanent mismanagement.

In Rio, dentists are part of the upper middle-class and like his peers Felipe has provided a good education to his two sons who now live in Canada.  Many of my friends‘ children live and work outside Brazil and have no plans to come back as good job opportunities are very few.  The last decade has been difficult for the middle-class which feels disillusioned by the incapacity of the consecutive governments to improve Brazil’s economic and social situation.  The impunity of the institutionalized political corruption, the high taxes, the mediocre social services and the persistent violence contribute to a feeling of haplessness. 

The state of Rio de Janeiro is abysmally mismanaged.  Corrupt and or incompetent governors were elected in succession, putting the state to shame even by the low Brazilian standards.  The last three governors are either in jail, out of jail outfitted with ankle bracelets or awaiting sentencing.  Local lawmakers as well as Rio’s former mayors are no paragon of virtue either.  One federal congressman was sent to jail last week.  In terms of lack of decency, qualifications and competence, it seems that politicians compete with each other.  It is a race to the bottom and the worst players end up the most popular; as a result, the city is a landfill of unfulfilled promises.  Rio is known for its self-indulgence, but it has fallen victim to its inhabitants’ fatigue and bad political choices. 

In 2016, Rio hosted the Summer Olympic Games and many people thought it would bring a windfall and act as a watershed to reenergize the city.  The euphory was short lived.  Rio was left reeling from a mega corruption scandal, abyssal debt and useless infrastructure. The new subway line, the only useful and tangible legacy of the Games, offers a poor counterweigh to the millions of taxpayers’ monies squandered.  A sense of failure set in and decay accelerated. 

The Coronavirus pandemic wracked the city, like a death knell.  Overly dependent on services and tourism, Rio’s economy was particularly harmed.  It has the highest unemployment rate in Brazil: 14% are jobless.  Fortunately, the informal economy provides a safety valve for sub-employment.  Poverty is increasingly visible with countless homeless people and families living off the streets of Rio’s posh suburbs.  In addition, Rio has Brazil’s highest Covid death rate per 100 000 inhabitants.

To escape from their daily doldrum, Cariocas have a habit of going to the beach or to a soccer game.  Currently, the only bright spot in the life of a Carioca is the outstanding performance of the local squad Flamengo.  But Coronavirus has closed stadiums to fans and discouraged people from protesting in the street.  Instead, to get pressure off, city dwellers resorted to panelaços, banging pots and pans from their balconies.  Staging panelaço is a time-honored show of protest in Latin America and a perfect social distancing substitute for street protests.  I believe Cariocas cannot overcome apathy, because lately, few “pot banging” has taken place.

                                                   Refuge to anxiety and stresses of daily life: Carioca's style.

Politics in Brazil leans to the theatrical.  Brasilia, the capital, offers a national stage for con artists whose antics compare with those of the crass and villainous types of the Big Brother reality shows.  In a reality show, participants can be ejected but regrettably Brasilia’s types tend to take root and breed into large political dynasties.  Cariocas are increasingly fed up with their failed political system, but keep electing the same corrupt and incompetent lawmakers to Brasilia’s Congress and Rio’s state assemblies.  For me, Cariocas are far too passive and indulgent spectators of the political show.  An evening in the company of Cariocas is highly entertaining as they have an unmistaken way of trashing their politicians and making fun of the whole political situation, but it is a lot of talks with no action.  I enjoy reading O Globo, Brazil’s most read newspaper; its columnists are brilliant, sharp and well informed.  The political stories are often so bizarre that I compare these writers to fiction film reviewers.

Rio’s decline deeply saddens me, but since I cannot vote, I do not feel any responsibility for this state of affairs.  I told Felipe that people should make their lawmakers accountable for their unlawful actions.  During a pandemic, I understand the unreasonableness of my advice.  For Felipe, the desk is stacked against his lot.  However, there may be a glimpse of hope for Rio: a new mayor who is known for his pluck and common sense has been freshly elected.  He has already made some good decisions.  

I may not love Rio as much as I did when I came back in the early 2000s, but I am not ready to leave.  I have to cheer up Felipe to make sure he stays; he is very good dentist!