Monday, January 30, 2012

the Kids are All Right

This blog post comes out of equal parts frustration and fascination, and, in some ways, is just something I have to note. 

For people who have been following the forced relocation of between 1500-10,000 residents of Pinheirinho in the Paulista town of São Jose dos Campos, things have been tense.  Protests have been held all over Brazil in favor of the residents and against the owner of the land, who let the property lay fallow for ten years but now wants to build condos, and against the state and the police, who have been using rubber bullets, tear gas and batons to evict residents.  And residents have fought back:

Here is a picture of pineirinho:

Source: Estado de São Paulo
What you see are garbage drums and motorcycle helmets turned into police-style shields and helmets.   Creative, huh!











But the image I really want to talk about is:



 This picture was taken a couple days ago at an re-inauguration of the museum of contemporary art in São Paulo.  A group of protestors who were critical of the state government's role in pinheirinho staged a protest outside that ended in a shouting match between them and the Secretary of Culture, Andrea Matarazzo (pictured here with a protestor).  There are accusations and counteraccusations about whether egg-throwing was involved, who was the agressor, etc.  But I want to focus on what Matarazzo said about the event.  

Matarazzo was quoted after the event as saying "essas pessoas (manifestantes) não têm a mínima noção do que é cidadania". [These people (the protestors) don't have the slightest clue about what citizenship is.]  This evaluation/accusation of the protestors reminded me of something that the governor of São Paulo, Geraldo Alckmin said about another controversial protest against military police overreach.  In December, the military police began instituting what looked like a stop-and-frisk policy for university students on the campus of the University of São Paulo (USP).  The PMs had been banned from the campus since 1972 as a part of the redemocratization process, and people were hesitant when the current chancellor invited them back onto campus in May 2011.  After the police tried to arrest three students on marijuana possession, the student body resisted and students in the social sciences blocked the police from leaving campus with the three arestees.  This led to a movement to, once again, ban the military police from USP campus.  In reaction to these events, Governeror Alckmin said "Eu entendo que os estudantes precisam ter aula de democracia."  [I understand that these students need a lesson in democracy.]  Alckmin's implicit critique was two-fold, that these students were not in class (i.e. they were more interested in smoking pot and protesting), and that they cried wolf against being undemocratically dealt with.  

There's an important, if not contestable, logic behind both Matarazzo's and Alckmin's statements.  Both older politicians, who lived through the dictatorship and participated in direct-election movements, are claiming that they have the cultural purchase on what it means to be a citizen and to live in a democracy.  Their not-so-subtle accusation is that the protestors are spoiled children who don't know the meaning of true political repression.  I have been somewhat struck by the way that "citizen" and "democracy" here are used to culturally police the correct uses of politics.  And I don't want to single out either Matarazzo or Alckmin.  I hear this logic used a lot by people who were against either the USP or the pineirinho protests.  This logic, that there is a correct way of practicing democracy and that this way has been learned through historical struggle against which some would burlesque by unruly protests, begs an extremely important question.  What are the parameters of this correct democratic process?  And (ok two questions), what is the mode by which society will decide upon these parameters?  

In the future, I may write more about generational conflict over who has the definition and practice of democracy, the role of historical memory in Brazilian politics etc.  But I hope that this quick post paints a picture of the new challenges to democratic practice posed by a generation who are still politically oriented through the history of the dictatorship, but oriented differently than their predecessors. 

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I've done it this time...

There is a truism that the dirtiest word in the Portuguese language is "Não." [No].   No one will ever tell you 'no' to anything, because to say 'no' so directly would be akin to implying you disliked the person and you would never entertain a proposal of theirs again.  A French guide to Brazil describes it this way (translated and paraphrased):

If you ask someone if they want to go to a party...

"Sim, vou com certeza"  (Yes, I am certainly going) means 'most likely, yes.'
"Sim" (Yes) means 'I am on the fence.'
"Pode ser." [possibly] means 'Probably not.'
"Talvez" [Maybe] or "Depende" [it depends] means 'no.'
"Não" [No] means 'Fuck off.'

Navegating this shifted scale of politeness has been one of my greatest social challenges.  Indeed, I often say that I speak very good Portuguese, but I can't figure out the metric system for shit.  And this is my social metric system.  I had no problem adapting to Brazilian time.  Arriving 30 minutes late to everything is one of my favorite luxuries of living in Brazil.  What has always confused me is how seriously I should take the commitments of others and how seriously I should commit to things.  Imagine my self-reflexive surprise today when g-chatting with a friend and finding I have almost completely internalized this system (the self-reflexive recognition of this internalization not withstanding). 

Today my friend chatted me because she wanted confirmation on a brief message that she had to write in English. After helping her with a few prepositions, we wrote:

Jay: vamos tomar uma este mês. tou livríssimo
Bxxxx: pode ser! eu vo viajar no dia xx, mas antes disso eu posso
Jay: ótimo! bom, me fale quando vc tiver uma hora livre.

Jay: Let's drink a beer some time this month. I am totally free.
Bxxxx: Possibly! I am going to travel on the xxth, but before that I can make something.
Jay: Great! Well, tell me when you might have some free time.

What I realized from the conversation was not just that I accepted that this drink, which we have already been planning for a month or so, probably won't happen in January. It's the ease with which I responded, implicitly accepting that my friend was busy without calling attention to it. The future subjunctive tense with which I put the proposition (tell me when you might) puts the encounter, and even the planning for the encounter, in the indefinitely perpetual 'as if.' Grammar aside, however, I think the more radical thing is not that I have conquered the art of polite non-commitment, but that I have accepted (more or less) the emotional part of what comes with never making plans. Before, I might have said that the difficulty making plans is stressful. Now, I feel rather liberated by the "let's figure out everything later" attitude.