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(This is an English version of the text originally published by Gazeta do Povo on Tuesday, September 24th 2024)
Few people truly understand what is happening in Brazil. If, for example, you were an alien who landed on Earth at this very moment, more precisely in a portion of land located mostly south of the Equator, which Earthlings call Brazil, you would find a rather unique situation. After a brief investigation, you would discover that this country claims to be a democracy—a concept you would also try to understand, as unlike most inhabitants of planet Earth, you tend to research and seek to understand something before giving an opinion.
After researching the subject using reliable sources, you would understand that democracy is a rich concept, but that, in short, it refers to a type of government where there is participation of the people through periodic elections, which allow for the alternation of power and prevent some tyrants from perpetuating themselves in power indefinitely.
"Is protesting against governments and authorities a crime in a democracy? That doesn't make sense!" you think—and rightly so, after all, protesting and showing dissatisfaction with authorities and rulers is part of all democracies
More than that, what would catch your attention are the necessary conditions for democracy to exist: people must be free to think and express their ideas and positions, and this right, the freedom of expression, must be defended and protected. This is written in the country's main document, called the Constitution. You find this admirable, after all, everyone on your planet used to say that humans were very primitive, prone to rash and violent actions, capable of various atrocities against other humans, including the desire to impose their own will and crush opponents. This piques your curiosity about how this democracy works and is happening in Brazil.
For you, coming from a planet where governments were unnecessary, with management activities left to the care of machines, knowing that humans valued freedom—and defended it as a right—causes surprise, a positive one. "Well, they're not so animalistic after all" you think, already rehearsing what you will say when you return to your planet. It's only natural that you want to see up close what's happening in this country called Brazil.
Certain that you would be warmly welcomed in Brazil, you seek out the country's top leader to understand how democracy is exercised in practice—and this is where the confusion begins. Your research indicates that the president of Brazil is named "Lula"—something that makes you laugh, as "lula" (Portuguese for squid) refers to an Earthly mollusk with many arms, smooth and slippery, whose main weapon is to release smoke screens and blend into its surroundings as it sees fit.
However, when you meet Lula, you are disappointed. The large number of advisors, supporters, and the like, all wearing red hats, frightens you, but what causes you the most suspicion are the numerous notes handed by a woman—Janja, the first lady—to the president. She completes the president's sentences, corrects him, and truly leads the conversation. You ask how democracy is doing in Brazil, and hear Lula, always being corrected by Janja, say that Brazilian democracy is under continuous threat and that there was an attempted coup. Alarmed, you ask for more details and are forced to watch a documentary about the alleged coup attempt.
The images leave you confused. There is a crowd dressed in green and yellow, mostly elderly people, carrying banners calling for freedom and democracy. They enter buildings that Lula-Janja says are the headquarters of the Three Powers in Brasília, the capital of Brazil. The buildings are all empty; the few security guards simply watch. Some people—very few—break things, but no one is armed, nor is there an army or anything similar. Innocently, you ask how these people could attempt a coup d'état, without weapons, without military support, just by entering empty buildings. The question causes discomfort and murmurs among the red-clad supporters, who begin to whisper "fascist alien" and you realize it's time to leave.
Still incredulous about the alleged coup attempt against Brazilian democracy, you discover that Brazil has a chief defender of democracy, a judge of the country's highest court of justice, who prides himself, among other things, on condemning hundreds of men and women for exactly attempting against democracy, using all possible weapons, including some not even foreseen by the country's legislation, to silence these threats to democracy.
You meet some of these dangerous criminals, sentenced to nearly two decades in prison for their horrific crimes against Brazilian democracy. They don't seem like villains to you, just men and women, many of them elderly, common people incapable of committing any crime. You then discover that one of the convicted wrote something on a statue with lipstick; another vandalized the judge’s desk; another broke a valuable clock. But most were condemned without anyone knowing exactly what they did, without details and evidence of the terrible acts they committed. The conviction is for "coup acts"—something you really can't understand.
"Is protesting against governments and authorities a crime in a democracy? That doesn't make sense!" you think—and rightly so, after all, protesting and showing dissatisfaction with authorities and rulers is part of all democracies. Occasionally, protesters go too far, commit acts of vandalism and destruction, and can (and should) be held accountable for it. But being accused and convicted of a crime of attempted coup d'état only happens in dictatorships.
VEJA TAMBÉM:
Dizzy from so many contradictions, you seek more information and see that many people within Brazilian democracy are prevented from expressing their positions and ideas publicly, and that freedom of speech is selective, applying only to some, curiously those more aligned with the government and authorities.
The social networks of those considered "dangerous" to Brazilian democracy are deleted without explanation, their bank accounts are frozen, as are their families. They are fined and included in endless investigations, the content of which no one knows, they are targeted by the police, cannot leave the country, and are imprisoned without explanation. Even private conversations between these people are enough to trigger persecution. "All in the name of defending democracy" is the explanation given by the authorities, but to you, who understands that democracy only exists in an environment of freedom, this makes no sense at all. You cannot understand what's really happening in Brazil.
Freedom of expression is so poorly protected that a judge – the same one who poses as the chief defender of democracy – orders the shutdown of an entire media network in the country, silencing millions of people, and even determines that anyone trying to communicate through this network will be fined. This happens because the network wanted to protect the freedom of expression of its users – but it didn’t help. Unable to silence those they wanted, the judge simply ordered the entire population to be silenced. And the worst part is that it seems no one realizes what’s happening. Some even applaud the judge’s actions, as if, in fact, they were necessary and correct, and this leaves you even more confused. "Perhaps the population is under the influence of some drug? It's impossible they don't realize what's happening" you think, but then you regret it, as you fear that your thoughts might also become a reason for an accusation of a crime against Brazilian democracy. "Better leave" you conclude.
As a well-meaning alien, whose only interest was to know Brazil and its democracy, you feel sad. You found Brazil very beautiful, with stunning landscapes and pleasant weather, and you wanted to stay longer. Maybe even move here. But a country that uses democracy, such a lofty concept, to condemn and persecute its own citizens, is not at all trustworthy. Better to return to your galaxy and leave the Brazilian Earthlings behind.
