Who’s Protesting in Brazil and Why?
Don’t believe the right-wing media’s emphasis on corruption—the
recent demonstrations are motivated by entrenched elite discontent
over expanding economic and political inclusion for the nation’s
majority.
By Bryan Pitts
April 15, 2015 "ICH"
- "NACLA
" -Reading
the English-language press these days, one could be forgiven for
thinking that Brazil is in the throes of a democratic uprising
against a singularly corrupt government, a politically incompetent
president, and a floundering economy. Since late last year, the
center-left Workers' Party (PT) government headed by President Dilma
Rousseff has been rocked by an ever-widening scandal involving
over-inflated contracts and kickbacks to government-allied
politicians at the state-owned oil giant Petrobrás. Indignant PT
militants—rather than lamenting corruption in a party that once ran
on its anti-corruption credentials—have tended to attack the media
for highlighting PT corruption after ignoring abuses during the
1995-2002 administration of Fernando Henrique Cardoso, as well as
similar scandals in state governments controlled by the opposition
Party of Brazilian Social Democracy (PSDB).
In part due to the collapse of Petrobrás’s stock,
down 67% since the start of September, the Brazilian currency has
plunged nearly 40% against the dollar since then. Inflation over the
last year has reached nearly 8%, the highest since 2005, inviting
Brazilians to nervously recall the hyperinflation of the 1980s and
early 1990s. On March 15, nationwide demonstrations organized on
social media gathered anywhere from 300,000 to two million
protesters in dozens of cities. They brandished signs saying, “Out
with the PT!” and demanded Rousseff’s impeachment, although the
one-time head of Petrobrás has not been implicated in the kickback
scheme and can constitutionally only be impeached for crimes
committed during her presidency. In the wake of the demonstrations,
the percentage of Brazilians rating her government as “excellent” or
“good” dropped to an abysmal 12%, while 64% rated it “poor” or
“terrible.” This disapproval rating is the highest for any
president since Fernando Collor de Mello’s 68% on the eve of his own
impeachment for corruption in 1992. (Incidentally, Collor, now a
government-allied senator, is one of 47 politicians currently under
investigation for their role in the Petrobrás scandal.)
Foreign media
outlets have seized on Rousseff’s supposedly lackluster response to
the Petrobrás scandal and Brazil’s gloomy macroeconomic outlook to
speculate whether the collapse of the PT’s economic and political
model, which has relied on cautiously redistributive policies and
moderately increased government involvement in the economy, is
imminent. Their sense of hope is palpable: “Brazil’s poor turn their
back on Rousseff,” one headline
gleefully reported
on March 16. Another
article
insisted that the protests’ “cheerfully democratic multitudes”
sought contrition from Rousseff for her party’s graft and economic
mismanagement, but that the President had so far ignored their
indignation. An
opinion piece
in a British daily expressed hope that “popular dissatisfaction”
would persuade Rousseff to take the steps needed to solve Brazil’s
economic problems – a reduced role for state credit agencies,
increased independence for Petrobrás and monetary authorities, tax
reform, brakes on special interests, and increased openness to
foreign trade. The
New York Times
added an
editorial
on March 20 blasting Rousseff’s foreign policy, which, it suggested,
should draw closer to the United States – despite Edward Snowden’s
revelations of NSA spying on Rousseff’s communications.
It’s no secret that most foreign correspondents
are neither politically well connected nor fluent in Portuguese.
Part of the explanation for their bias, then, comes from
their dependence upon Brazil's notoriously one-sided media,
owned by a few elite families and corporate groups. The major
newspapers are all staunchly anti-government, their reporting on
Rousseff’s administration universally negative. The Globo television
network dedicated much of its March 15 programming to recruiting
attendees for what
it called, “peaceful demonstrations against corruption, with
women, the elderly, and children asking for democracy and out with
Dilma.” Indeed, the Brazilian and foreign press are engaged in an
endless echo chamber of self-validation: foreign journalists get
their information from anti-government media outlets, which then
breathlessly report the foreign “analysis” in order to validate
their own bias. For example, a March 21 story in the
Folha de S. Paulo and
Veja reported favorably on the New York Times’
foreign policy editorial. If foreigners say it, it must be true.
Perhaps
the most notorious recent example of press bias occurred when
Brian Winter, Reuters’ chief Brazil correspondent, interviewed
Fernando Henrique Cardoso. Published in Portuguese by Reuters Brasil,
the story contained a paragraph admitting that one of the Petrobrás
officials involved in the corruption scheme claims that it dated to
Cardoso’s administration. The paragraph was followed by a
parenthetical note,
apparently penned by one of the Brazilian editors, that
accidentally remained undeleted: “We can take this part out if you
want.” To his credit, Winter didn’t remove the paragraph, but the
gaffe shows the inner-workings of the Brazilian branch of an
American media outlet, where protecting the opposition and attacking
the PT trumps even a casual relationship with the truth. Although
the article
was hastily corrected (without any indication that it had been
modified), it was too late: attentive readers had already posted the
gaffe to
Twitter, under the hashtag #PodemosTirarSeAcharMelhor.
Amidst
predictions of Rousseff’s demise, the mainstream media has
consistently downplayed, and occasionally outright ignored, one
fact: the social backgrounds of protesters. It is not “the Brazilian
people” who are in the streets, but rather a very specific segment
of the population whose economic interests are historically opposed
to those of the majority. They are largely middle and upper class
and, consequently, mainly white. In the 2014 elections they sensed
that their time had come to get rid of the PT, only to see their
favored candidate, former Minas Gerais PSDB governor Aécio Neves,
lose in Brazil’s closest-ever presidential contest. Despite the very
real and serious flaws of the current government, this discontent
with the PT finds its true source in centuries of elite fear of
popular mobilization and a deep resentment of the gains working
class people have made since Lula took office in 2003.
Of course, if one asks the demonstrators in the
streets why they are protesting, no one will say that it’s because
the poor aren’t as poor anymore. Indeed, 44% of demonstrators in
Porto Alegre
told pollsters that they were attending to speak out against
corruption. And, responding to a question that permitted multiple
answers, 58% indicated that their greatest disappointment lies with
the political class overall, as compared to 44% that identified the
PT and 29% Rousseff. A further 78% argued that political parties,
including the opposition, should have no role in their movement.
Could it be the case that the demonstrations were, in fact,
overwhelmingly democratic and targeted primarily at corruption?
Several clues indicate that this is not the case.
Although they represented a small minority of
demonstrators, a vocal contingent was not satisfied with calls for
impeachment. In a chilling scene for those who remember the
repression unleashed during Brazil’s 1964-1985 military
dictatorship, protesters carried
signs emblazoned with slogans like “Military intervention now”
and “SOS Armed Forces.” A banner in Rio de Janeiro featured a
swastika and read, “Armed Forces, liberate Brazil.” Another read (in
English), “Army, Navy, and Air Force. Please save us once again of
[sic] communism.” “The best communist is a dead communist. Dilma,
Maduro, Hugo, Fidel, Cristina, Lula: the world’s garbage.” Their
signs were eerily reminiscent of the media’s enthusiastic response
to Brazil’s 1964 coup, when the country’s press overwhelmingly
cheered the military’s ouster of João Goulart—another
mildly-leftist, so-called “communist” president—as a victory for
democracy.
In response to the pleas for military intervention, a
spokesman for
Revoltados ON LINE, a grassroots group that helped organize the protests and
has 750,000 Facebook likes,
commented, “The people asking for [military] intervention want to remove the
PT from power. That is the sole focus. The participation of a variety of groups
strengthens the group as a whole.” Though a military coup still looks unlikely,
it is widely known that
many in the military are incensed with the Rousseff administration over the
final report of the National Truth Commission, which blasted the armed forces
for torture and disappearances during its rule.
If those waxing nostalgic for dictatorships of yore were in
the minority, what of the rest of the protesters? Despite attempts to highlight
the supposed multi-class composition of the crowds on March 15, they
represented, above all, Brazil’s white, university-educated economic elite. As
Gianpaolo Baiocchi and Marcelo K. Silva
recently pointed out, in Porto Alegre, nearly 70% of protesters were
college-educated, in contrast with 11% of the general population, while over 40%
belonged to the top income brackets, which make up but 3% of the population.
Photographs confirm this; in a country with a high correlation between skin
color and economic class, where over half of the population identifies as black
or brown, the crowds had a decidedly lighter hue. A viral
Tumblr account
poked fun at the similarities with the upper-class, yellow-and-green-clad crowds
that attended pricey World Cup matches last year by challenging visitors to
determine if the photographs posted came from a March 15 demonstration or the
World Cup.
Of course, the fact that the demonstrations largely consisted
of white middle- and upper-class Brazilians does not automatically mean that
they were anti-democratic. At the same time, it would be a grave mistake to
interpret the class composition of the crowds outside the context of Brazil’s
historic inequalities of class, race, and region. What does it mean if the
majority of demonstrators demanding the ouster of a moderately redistributive
center-left party come from the social classes and regions that have least
benefited from its policies? What problems do they see with corruption, the PT,
or Rousseff that are insufficient to motivate the working classes or people from
the impoverished Northeast of the country to take to the streets?
Since the
colonial period, political and economic power has been wielded by a tiny
European-descended elite, and since the collapse of the Northeastern plantation
sugar economy in the nineteenth century, economic power has been concentrated in
the Southeast and South, especially in the coffee and industrial powerhouse of
São Paulo—today the epicenter of the opposition. An influx of European
immigration in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries only heightened
the disdain light-skinned, prosperous Southeasterners felt for their mixed-race
Northeastern and Northern countrymen and women, and after the 1950s, that
prejudice was turned against Northeastern migrants who came to work in the
region’s expanding industries. Brazil’s middle class of government bureaucrats,
small business owners, and professionals, tied to the landowning and industrial
elite by socialization and patronage, has in turn largely identified with elite
interests. Whenever Brazilian leaders, be they the populist dictator and later
elected president Getúlio Vargas (1930-1945, 1950-1954), or the left-leaning
would-be reformer João Goulart (1961-1964), have proposed reforms that would
decrease inequality and broaden political representation, they have been ousted
by an indignant elite and middle class –
at precisely the moments when the minimum wage was growing the fastest.
The leveling results of the last 12 years are striking, if
still far short of what Brazil needs to comprehensively address income
inequality. In January 2003, the Inter-union Department of Socioeconomic
Statistics and Studies (DIEESE)
calculated that in order to provide a living wage, the minimum wage should
be 6.93 times what it actually was; by February 2015, the ratio had fallen to
4.03. The
unemployment rate when Lula took office was 11.2%; today, it is 5.9% (though
it has risen from 4.4% in November 2014). At the same time,
the gains were not evenly spread out; between 2001 and 2013, the income of
the poorest 10% of the population grew at nearly three times the rate of that of
the richest 10%. The result was a Gini coefficient that, while still among the
highest in the world at 0.527 in 2012, reached its lowest level since 1960. In
sum, then, though economic growth between 2003 and 2014 benefited the whole
population, it benefited the poor and working class the most, largely as a
result of real increases in the minimum wage. As economist Luiz Carlos Bresser
Pereira, a cabinet minister under Cardoso,
put it, “This hatred [against the PT] is a result of the fact that the
government revealed a strong and clear preference for workers and the poor.”
The persistence of prejudice against the poor and
Northeasterners manifested itself most clearly on social media in the wake of
the 2014 elections—when the Northeast voted overwhelmingly for Rousseff. “These
Northeastern sons of bitches need to die in a drought; good-for-nothings,
sucking on the government’s teat, ignorant sons of bitches,”
read one tweet. “Northeasterners
don’t have a brain, they have no culture; it’s the slum of Brazil,” read
another. Even former president Cardoso, a one-time leftist sociologist and
champion of the struggle against the military dictatorship,
grumbled, “The PT relies on the least informed, who happen to be the
poorest.” Much like in the United States, in the wake of government efforts to
reduce inequality, the wealthy and middle class have reacted with racially
inflected charges of laziness, dependency, and ignorance. And so far it has
largely been the same social groups who voted for Neves and blasted
Northeasterners who have been participating in the demonstrations against
Rousseff.
If the March 15 demonstrations expressed the concerns of the
middle class and elite, what are the implications for Rousseff’s government?
First, despite Rousseff’s dismal approval ratings, the PT’s base of support in
the working class and poor is not ready to abandon it. The PT has retained their
support through policies like the wildly popular conditional cash transfer
program Bolsa Família, the expansion of the federal university system, and race
and class-based quotas in college admissions that have yielded tangible
improvements in their daily lives. Unless the economy deteriorates to the point
where the working class and poor join the demonstrations – and even Brazil’s
small leftist press
admits that this is not impossible – it’s hard to imagine the protests
gaining further traction. Second, despite the common class interests of the
demonstrators, a message decrying working class gains is not politically
feasible. In the absence of this message, which in fact is the real motivator of
the protests, the demonstrators are left in the tenuous position of calling for
the outster of the PT through a legally invalid impeachment, with no agreement
at all about or what should happen afterwards.
The same groups that organized the March 15 demonstrations are
planning another round for April 12. Will they attract working class support?
What developments in the Petrobrás scandal might affect their success? Will
calls for military intervention become more prominent or fade into the
background? One thing remains certain: In the absence of a mass working-class
defection from the PT, proof of crimes justifying impeachment, or military
interest in a coup, the prospects for a change in government are remote. Yet
this is unlikely to dampen the hopes of wealthy and highly educated protesters,
who will continue to use corruption as an excuse to protest against the
socioeconomic ascension of those they see as their inferiors. As sociologist
Jesse de Souza
pointedly explains, “What distinguishes Brazil from the United States,
Germany, and France, who we admire so much,” isn’t the level of corruption, “but
the fact that we accept maintaining a third of the population in subhuman
conditions.” The PT governments of the last 12 years made progress toward
improving those conditions, but in the process they threatened the Brazilian
elite’s deeply ingrained sense of superiority. Whether conscious or not, class
and regional prejudice—not corruption—is the driving force behind the
demonstrations.
Bryan Pitts is visiting assistant professor of History at
Duke University and a Fulbright Scholars postdoctoral fellow at the Instituto de
Ciência Política of the Universidade de Brasília (UnB).
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