May 28, 2020
May 26, 2020
O presidente não tem a menor ideia do que fazer, salvo sair por aí arrumando brigas
ELIO GASPARI
ilustração ANDRÉ MELLO - A leitura da transcrição da patética reunião do ministério de Jair Bolsonaro exige algum tempo, mas chega a ser um exercício pedagógico, sobretudo num tempo de horas vagas.
Descontem-se os palavrões (37). Esqueçam-se as tolices (um dos maganos dizendo que o pico da epidemia parecia ter passado). Deixem-se de lado os delírios presidenciais. Sobra o quê? O ministro da Economia, Paulo Guedes, dizendo que leu o economista inglês John Maynard Keynes no original, insistindo nas suas “reformas estruturantes” e colocando duas propostas na mesa.
A primeira foi criativa, caso inédito de colocação do maoísmo a serviço dos cânones da Universidade de Chicago. Ele propôs uma mobilização de jovens para que se formassem como aprendizes. Quantos? “Duzentos mil, 300 mil.”
May 24, 2020
Aliança da ala militar com centrão visa também um pós-Bolsonaro
Igor Gielow
Após o primeiro turno da eleição presidencial de 2018, quando a
vitória de Jair Bolsonaro deixara de ser um delírio e passou a ser
tratada como surpresa inevitável, conversar com oficiais-generais sobre
política trazia duas certezas ao interlocutor.Segundo, que a presença militar seria uma vacina dupla: evitaria erros de Bolsonaro, visto por seus mais notórios apoiadores públicos como um parvo manipulável, e seria uma espécie de garantia simbólica de que a mudança nas práticas políticas pregada na campanha seria cumprida.
"Tempus fugit", o tempo passa, como diria Virgílio. Corta para maio de 2020, meros 19 meses à frente daqueles dias. Nada soa mais ilusório.
Aqui estão os militares do governo, muitos deles da ativa, agora em operação aberta com o antes espezinhado centrão, apavorados com a possibilidade de a gestão Bolsonaro ir para o vinagre. Uma aliança improvável, mas que embute várias nuances.
Primeiro, a ala militar acha que deu seu golpe de morte nos ideológicos que ajudaram a transformar o Brasil numa piada internacional, com seus macaqueios do trumpismo e delírios de rede social. O caso do Ministério da Educação, do tresloucado Abraham Weintraub, é apenas o mais vistoso.
Não foi só uma importante diretoria ou todo o FNDE (Fundo Nacional de Desenvolvimento da Educação) que serão servido ao centrão. A infiltração chegará a locais antes considerados sagrados do MEC, como a coordenação-geral de materiais didáticos da Secretaria de Educação Básica.
É o lugar onde, em tese, são escolhidas temáticas de livros didáticos. Lá estava o coronel da reserva Sebastião Vitalino, desde antes de Weintraub chegar, mas não mais, segundo o que o militar disse a conhecidos. Crê ter sido rifado em nome da tal governabilidade.
- O detalhe é haver governo. Existe uma prioridade no Brasil chamada
pandemia, e lá foram os militares intervir no Ministério da Saúde.
Primeiro, quando Teich, o breve, ainda era ministro de direito, com um
general da ativa como como ministro de fato e vários fardados em
postos-chave.
Com a queda do médico, Eduardo Pazuello assumiu as funções e só nesta terça (19) colocou mais nove militares na pasta.
Bolsonaro pode até encontrar algum médico de YouTube para satisfazer suas perversões pseudocientíficas um dia, mas a pasta virou uma OM, sigla e jargão para Organização Militar, com provável espaço para os novos sócios do centrão.
O incômodo que essa condição provoca em setores do serviço ativo das Forças é conhecido, mas parece que a resistência tende a ser fútil neste momento. Bolsonaro buscou apoiou no auge de sua fragilidade, e o estrago está feito.
A julgar pela história das vezes em que os fardados assumiram funções de governo estranhas à sua formação, socorro.
Isso é muito culpa da tibieza institucional do país. Antes de Paulo Guedes materializar-se do nirvana liberal em que habitava, eram as Forças Armadas que recebiam a alcunha de Posto Ipiranga.
Foi assim desde a ascensão das GLOs, as operações cada vez mais complexas para garantir lei e ordem nessa selva. Collor, Itamar, FHC, Lula, Dilma e Temer, todos apelaram ao posto. Com Bolsonaro, chegaram a 142.
Com isso, natural que os militares considerem-se aptos a ampliar o escopo de suas ações, ainda mais quando 9 em cada 10 políticos do mundo consideram a pandemia uma guerra —ótima propaganda, mas só demonstra que eles nada entendem de conflitos.
Ampliaram tanto que resolveram se unir ao centrão. Nada errado o governo negociar com partidos, como aliás ressaltou o vice-presidente, general Hamilton Mourão, o herdeiro presumido da maçaroca.
Mas o discurso de sobrevivência da ala militar, que nunca foi um monólito, não se aplica apenas a Bolsonaro: serve de contrato de transição para uma queda do presidente nas hipóteses de afastamento pelo Supremo ou abertura de processo de impeachment.
Sob essa ótica, enquanto o drama se desenrola, o temor que Mourão e seu passado de declarações golpistas infunde ao centrão tende a ser amainado com o selo desta nova velha aliança —que preservaria o poder atual da ala militar, teoricamente, em caso de debacle. "Tempus fugit".
FOLHA DE SÃO PAULO
May 21, 2020
No act of God
Hurricanes,
pandemics, and
droughts are acts of
God. Private
markets in housing,
health care, and
food — and the
resulting deaths —
are not
BY MEAGAN DAY
TOWARD THE END of my rst semester in college, some older student radicals I admired announced they were driving down to New Orleans. Two and a half years after Hurricane Katrina, they were going to protest the demolition of public housing. I was elated when they agreed to let me tag along. I didn’t know much about the political context, but I trusted them.
Our caravan arrived in Louisiana from Ohio late at night, and we settled onto some friendly activists’ couches. In the morning, we reported for duty at a meeting assembled by local organizers and publichousing residents. From there, we deployed to New Orleans’ vacant projects, known as “the Bricks.”
It was only after standing in front of the buildings themselves that I understood the nature of the injustice that had brought us to New Orleans. I’d seen Spike Lee’s When the Levees Broke, the iconic footage of wooden structures reduced to splinters. But the Bricks didn’t look anything like that. The city, which planned to tear them down, had declared them uninhabitable — but from what I could tell, they were basically unscathed.
New Orleans planned to replace the Bricks with scaled-down, mixed-income, public-private developments, which would be supplemented by an expanded voucher system for private housing. Housing o cials and real-estate developers had discussed this vision for years, and the fact that the Bricks were now vacant — their residents scattered to the winds — provided the perfect opportunity to realize it.
Proponents of this plan said the new housing would be nicer. But, structurally speaking, New Orleans public housing — built by dedicated reformers during the New Deal — was hard to match. According to New York Times architecture critic Nicolai Ourosso in 2006:
The city’s public housing projects have little in common with the dehumanizing superblocks and grim plazas that have long been an emblem of urban poverty. Modestly scaled, they include some of the best public housing built in the United States . . . Solidly built, the buildings’ detailed brickwork, tile roofs and wrought-iron balustrades represent a level of craft more likely found on an Ivy League campus than in a contemporary public housing complex.
Decades of disinvestment and neglect left the Bricks with some wear and tear, but those problems could have been xed with money and attention. The city chose austerity instead. “This is a government-sanctioned
diaspora of New Orleans’ poorest African American citizens,” said Bill Quigley, a lawyer who represented residents in their attempts to legally stop the demolition. “They are destroying perfectly habitable apartments when they are more rare than any time since the Civil War.”
The lawsuit failed. The protests failed, too. The Bricks were torn down. The new housing was erected in their place. Before the storm, the city had seven thousand units of public housing. Ten years later, it had only two thousand units. Public-housing residents were forced out of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina, and their homes were razed in their absence. Only a handful of them moved into the new units.
It was all according to plan. Days after the storm, the Wall Street Journal reported that Louisiana Republican congressman Richard Baker had been overheard telling lobbyists in Washington, DC, “We nally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn’t do it. But God did.”
The Neoliberal Virus
I SAW HOW, in times of disaster, the powerful will swiftly pursue their preexisting agenda at the expense of those who’ve already lost the most. I also learned another valuable lesson that winter in New Orleans: the forces of pro t are quick to blame the forces of nature.
When the world comes crashing down, it suits the ruling class to allow the public to believe that the primary cause of the collapse was something organic and intractable — God, the weather, natural uctuations in the market, the unique savagery of a virus, the incomprehensible perversity of a foreign culture. Displacing responsibility onto abstractions allows the powerful to evade criticism for creating and maintaining such an unstable state of a airs.
The way the coronavirus pandemic in the United States has been presented is a case in point. COVID-19 is a novel coronavirus that causes fever, fatigue, and a dry cough. In severe cases, it causes respiratory distress. In some cases, it causes death. But the coronavirus can’t accurately be said to have caused the upheaval happening all around us.
A virus can make a person sick enough to need a ventilator — but it can’t create a shortage of ventilators That’s not the result of nature but of medical device companies promising to build them — even signing government contracts and taking public money — then failing to deliver, with zero consequences, leaving executives richer and the public in peril.
The coronavirus didn’t cause our understaffed and under-resourced hospitals — “lean production” in hospital management did that. It didn’t cause an unemployment rate that rivals the Great Depression — the United States’ unwillingness to protect workers’ jobs did that. The coronavirus didn’t cause millions of newly unemployed people to lose their private health insurance during a public health crisis — the United States’ stubborn refusal to implement a single-payer system did that.
What allowed each of these systems to atrophy to the point where they could be knocked over with a feather is the brazenly pro-corporate disposition of American governance, and the successful suppression of a workingclass mass movement that might reverse it.
The mainstream media has so far demonstrated little curiosity about the social and economic processes that have facilitated the virus’s spread. Likewise, the politicians of both parties are hard-pressed to acknowledge the deeper problems that led to this point, nor the protracted crises that presaged this acute one. To the extent that they acknowledge human causes, Democrats restrict blame to the aberrant and inexplicable phenomenon they call Donald Trump, while Trump himself lays it at the feet of the increasingly vili ed Chinese people.
But mostly, our leaders speak in reverential tones of the awesome power of the virus itself, and of the strength of the American spirit in the face of misfortune and calamity. Neoliberalism is the road we traveled to get here, but those who paved it would have us believe we arrived at our present destination by teleportation.
The Black Book of Capitalism
I FIRST WATCHED something like this play out in New Orleans in 2007, where the waters were blamed for the deeds of the wealthy. But it’s much older than that.
In Late Victorian Holocausts, Mike Davis recounts the late-nineteenth-century famines that killed tens of millions across the colonized world. Two waves of starvation, from 1876–9 and 1896–1902, left anywhere
between 20 and 50 million people dead in India and China. Given their scale, it’s astonishing how seldom these famines are acknowledged. Their obscurity no doubt owes partly to the notion that famines are inevitable, since they are usually the result of natural events beyond human control — a tragic footnote with no villains and no lessons.
But in countries like India, the origins of the famine at the end of the nineteenth century were directly attributable to British imperial policy. Of course, natural disturbances came first: an El Niño event brought about a monsoon failure. But the unavoidable causes stop there.
Humans had been practicing agriculture in India for more than ten thousand years and had developed systems for responding to variable rainfall. These methods weren’t perfect, but they were important safeguards. They were violently disrupted by the British Empire’s integration of India into the global capitalist order, when, as Davis writes, “the reluctant peasantry was forcibly married to the world market.”
Where previous generations had built irrigation infrastructure to conserve water, the British let it fall
into disrepair. Where grain had previously been grown for consumption, cotton and indigo were now grown for export. Grain itself was then increasingly grown for sale and exported, too, largely to England, depleting India’s grain stores — reserves that had historically been relied on to tide people over in times of crop failure.
When the British began building railroads in India, they bragged that famines would become a thing of the past — grain could simply be imported via rail. But when the starvation began, that’s not what happened. In fact, the railroads were used to take grain out of droughtstricken regions. Grain was now a commodity, subject to hoarding and speculation, and ultimately for sale to the highest bidder. Often, the highest bidder was in a less-famished region of India, or all the way over in London.
Among themselves, British administrators acknowledged that “the famine was one of high prices rather than of scarcity of food,” Davis writes. But this understanding did not prompt them to intervene in grain speculation and export. On the contrary, they were averse to the idea of price controls and other economic interventions. They were devotees of the free market, apostles of Adam Smith, who had written in The Wealth of Nations that “famine has never arisen from any other cause but the violence of government attempting, by improper means, to remedy the inconvenience of dearth.”
For a time, British authorities did nothing whatsoever as people dropped like ies and wild dogs tore at the corpses of children in the streets. Indeed, so strong was their opposition to price controls or regulation, so steadfast their faith that the market would correct itself in due time, and so enduring their belief that interference would only make matters worse, that the colonial government disciplined those in its ranks who orchestrated relief.
One official did the unthinkable and imported grain, directly providing sustenance. He was accused of “extravagance,” “Fourierism” — as in Charles Fourier, the founder of utopian socialism — and, worst of all, encouraging Indians to believe “it is the duty of the Government to keep them alive.”
So shamed was this o cial that, in order to rehabilitate his reputation, he built labor camps where starving Indians were meant to work in exchange for food, partly in the image of Dickensian English workhouses. But people whose bodies are undergoing a process called “skeletonization” cannot perform physical labor. The relief camps inevitably became extermination camps.
All of this, writes Davis, was a British sacri ce “to their savage god, the Invisible Hand.” They were murdered “by the theological application of the sacred principles of Smith” and the other prophets of freemarket capitalism.
Guilty
POWERFUL CAPITALISTS, the free-market ideologues who applaud their dominance, and the political opportunists who cater to their preferences will always join forces to exploit emergencies. From the moment the term “crisis” enters the conversation, they will attempt to muscle through their dream agenda, rationalizing it by pointing to circumstances out of anyone’s control. It only took a few weeks after the United States understood the severity of the coronavirus pandemic for Congress to pass a multitrillion-dollar, no-strings-attached bailout of business, the largest ever in American history.
And the predation doesn’t stop when the crisis is over. Then begins a period of so-called recovery in which in uential actors — usually the same ones responsible for creating the crisis and for pro teering as it unfolded — endeavor to bend society further to their will in the name of reconstruction. Politicians will clear the red tape for their friends in business and call it a public-private partnership to restore society to its former (exaggerated) glory. But as Naomi Klein observed in The Shock Doctrine, “disaster capitalists have no interest in repairing what was,” only in “ nishing the job of the original disaster.” That’s what happened in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, and, absent serious opposition, it’s precisely what will happen after this pandemic passes.
The ruling class’s capacity to exploit the aftermath of disaster depends in part on the public’s continued willingness to tolerate their hold on power. Even if the public loses con dence or its patience wears thin, deposing the existing political and economic elite will remain a formidable task. But nothing of the sort can be attempted if people continue to believe that their leaders are trying in good faith to shepherd society through the aftermath of an unavoidable tragedy for which the ruling class itself bears no responsibility.
A virus can infect a human body and cause it to die, as this particular virus has proved in abundance. But it can’t cause the degree of social chaos we’re witnessing today. Systematic collapse of this magnitude is a judgment on that system’s viability. And in the end, no matter how convincingly they plead innocence, it’s also an indictment of those who diligently maintain it. ■
ILLUSTRATION BY BEN O’NEIL
May 18, 2020
Astrid Kirchherr, Who Helped Create the Beatles’ Image, Dies at 81
The stark black-and-white photographs she took of the group in Hamburg, Germany, before the musicians were famous captured both their toughness and their sensitivity.
By Allan Kozinn
Astrid
Kirchherr, the German photographer whose portraits of the Beatles when
the musicians were a scruffy British bar band playing in Hamburg’s
red-light district captured not only their toughness but also the
sensitivity beneath their leather-clad exteriors, died on Tuesday in
Hamburg, Germany. She was 81.
The
cause was cancer, said Chris Murray, who presented Ms. Kirchherr’s
first American exhibition at the Govinda Gallery in Washington in 1994.
Ms.
Kirchherr was a 22-year-old art and photography student when she met
the Beatles in October 1960. The group — then a quintet, with John
Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison playing guitars; Stuart
Sutcliffe on bass; and Pete Best on drums — had been in Hamburg since
August and was working at the Kaiserkeller, a club frequented by sailors
and by prostitutes looking for customers.
Ms. Kirchherr discovered the Beatles through her boyfriend at the time, Klaus Voormann,
a fellow art student. After a quarrel, Mr. Voormann left her house;
walking past the Kaiserkeller, he was drawn to the Beatles’ high-energy
sound.
He
returned to tell Ms. Kirchherr about the band. The next evening, she
and Jürgen Vollmer, another young artist, went to the Kaiserkeller with
Mr. Voormann.
The
three artists soon became friendly with the Beatles, who found them
exotic; influenced by French rather than German culture and style, they
typically dressed in black and adopted a serious, sometimes gloomy
demeanor.
Ms.
Kirchherr was immediately attracted to Mr. Sutcliffe, and after she had
spent two days photographing him, the two declared that they were in
love. Mr. Voormann quickly stepped aside, saying that his romance with
Ms. Kirchherr had run its course. By mid-November, Mr. Sutcliffe and Ms.
Kirchherr were engaged.
Ms.
Kirchherr had by then also photographed the rest of the band members.
Collecting the musicians and their instruments in her Volkswagen, Ms.
Kirchherr brought them to a fairground, where she shot both individual
and group portraits in stark black and white. One group photo in
particular, showing the band standing with their instruments before an
open-sided truck with a roller coaster behind them, has become what the
Beatles historian and biographer Mark Lewisohn called “the definitive
image of the group before they attained fame.”
The Beatles (from left, Pete Best, George Harrison, John Lennon, Paul McCartney and Stu Sutcliffe) as photographed by Ms. Kirchherr at a fairground in Hamburg, Germany, in 1960. “They looked quite rough,” she later recalled, “really looking like rock ’n’ rollers.”Credit...Astrid Kirchherr, via Govinda Gallery
“It was early in the morning, because I only used daylight,” Ms. Kirchherr told The Age,
a newspaper in Melbourne, Australia, in 2005. “So the poor guys had to
get up very early. They only stopped playing at four o’clock in the
morning, and we met about nine or 10.”
“They
looked quite rough, having their hair combed back with grease, really
looking like rock ’n’ rollers,” she continued, “so I thought it would
suit them the most between all these wagons and steel and rust.”
Mr.
Sutcliffe, Mr. Lennon’s best friend from art school, was a gifted
painter but an indifferent musician; he joined the Beatles after winning
a cash prize in a Liverpool art contest and allowing Mr. Lennon to
persuade him to buy an electric bass. But even before he met Ms.
Kirchherr, he had decided to leave the group and to return to his art
studies. Once he decided to remain in Germany with Ms. Kirchherr, he
enrolled at the Hamburg College of Art as a student of Eduardo Paolozzi.
He
continued to play with the Beatles in Hamburg, though, and through him
Ms. Kirchherr influenced the group’s style. When Mr. Sutcliffe adopted
her short, brushed-forward hairstyle, the other Beatles first mocked
him, preferring to maintain the greased-back Elvis Presley style. But
Mr. Harrison soon adopted the new haircut as well. Both Mr. Lennon and
Mr. McCartney followed suit in October 1961. Mr. Sutcliffe also began
wearing Ms. Kirchherr’s clothing, including collarless jackets she had
made, patterned after those of the French designer Pierre Cardin. The
Beatles briefly adopted that style as well.
Mr.
Sutcliffe moved into Ms. Kirchherr’s home and continued his studies,
but he was plagued by headaches and mood swings. On April 10, 1962, he
collapsed while painting; he died of a brain hemorrhage in an ambulance,
in her arms. The Beatles arrived from Liverpool, England, for another
Hamburg club residency the next day.
The couple’s story, and that of the Beatles in those days, is told in the 1994 movie “Backbeat,” in which Ms. Kirchherr is played by Sheryl Lee.
Astrid
Kirchherr was born in Hamburg on May 20, 1938, the only child of Emil
Kirchherr, a salesman for the German arm of the Ford Motor Company, and
Nielsa Bergmann Kirchherr, a homemaker whose inheritance from her
father’s jukebox manufacturing company made her independently wealthy.
She studied art at a school in Hamburg and photography with Reinhart Wolf, who hired her as an assistant shortly before she met the Beatles.
After
Mr. Sutcliffe’s death, Ms. Kirchherr maintained her friendship with the
Beatles, photographing the group on the set of “A Hard Day’s Night” in
1964 and taking a portrait of Mr. Harrison in 1968. But she largely set
aside photography in the mid-1960s, working instead as an interior
designer.
She
married Gibson Kemp, a British drummer, in 1967, and helped him run
Kemp’s English Pub in Hamburg, where she lived her entire life. Their
marriage ended in divorce in 1974; a second marriage, to a German
businessman, also ended in divorce. She has no surviving immediate
family members.
For
many years Ms. Kirchherr made little money from her Beatles
photographs, although they were reproduced frequently. That changed in
the 1980s, when she began making regular appearances at Beatles
conventions, selling and signing prints. In 1988, she and Ulf Krüger, a
German musician, started K & K, a Hamburg shop that sold vintage
photography and books.
Genesis Publications,
a British limited-edition imprint, published five books of her work:
“Liverpool Days” (1994) and “Golden Dreams” (1996), both collaborations
with Max Scheler; “Beatles in Germany” (1997), which also included the
work of several other photographers; “Hamburg Days” (1999), a
collaboration with Mr. Voormann; and “When We Was Fab” (2007). She also
published several trade books, among them “Yesterday: The Beatles Once
Upon a Time” (2008) and “Astrid Kirchherr: A Retrospective” (2010).
In 2011, she sold the rights to her work to a private collector and announced her retirement.
“I’m
a very, very silly girl,” Ms. Kirchherr said in 2005, speaking about
her lack of business acumen in dealing with her Beatles photographs. “I
just had the joy of taking pictures, and I never cared about my
negatives. I just gave them away whenever anybody asked for t
hem. I never cared about the money so much, because it was such a joy meeting them and becoming very close friends with them.”
“They
gave me so much in return, as far as love and affection was concerned,”
she said. “They always cared about me and looked after me.”
May 14, 2020
Inquietação generalizada sobre impeachment se deve ao obstáculo Hamilton Mourão
Janio de Freitas
Bolsonaro não poderia ter chegado ao primeiro semestre do seu mandato de figuração presidencial. Isso, com boa vontade. A rigor, nem ao primeiro trimestre, sendo já contra a segurança e a vida os seus primeiros atos e pregações. De lá para cá, são dezenas de motivos suficientes para embasar processo de impeachment. Alguns geraram pedidos de inquérito lançados, todos, ao fosso das gavetas no Congresso e no Judiciário. Mas não pelo ônus de um processo de afastamento. Nem nem pela concentração de atividades, que não existe, contra a pandemia.- Como regra geral, as propostas justificadas de impeachment são descartadas, pelas ditas autoridades competentes, por conveniências pessoais, descaso com a população e com o próprio país, autoproteções de partidos e do Judiciário, barganhas, enfim, poucas vezes por sensatez e espírito público. Exemplo definitivo foi o do (im)possível impeachment pela provada compra a dinheiro, inclusive com confissão gravada, da aprovação de segundo mandato para Fernando Henrique Cardoso. No caso de Bolsonaro, porém, há uma peculiaridade.
- Messenger
- Copiar link
AS HISTÓRIAS POR TRÁS DOS NÚMEROS DA COVID-19
Rennan Setti e Gabriel Cariello
Os números da pandemia no Brasil são eloquentes: em 55 dias, o novo coronavírus já matou mais de 10 mil pessoas, segundo dados oficiais do Ministério da Saúde. Desde a primeira morte, em 17 de março, os brasileiros se acostumaram a ver crescer a contagem de óbitos ao ritmo de boletins diários, em uma progressão geométrica cuja frieza esvazia a dimensão humana e banaliza as consequências da maior catástrofe sanitária em um século.
Quando o país ultrapassa a marca trágica das 10 mil mortes, O GLOBO presta uma homenagem às trajetórias por trás dos números, em parceria com o projeto colaborativo Inumeráveis . Por meio de um memorial virtual dedicado às vítimas, o site “repersonifica” as estatísticas a partir de breves relatos de amigos e familiares. Uma rede de jornalistas voluntários ajuda a recuperar a singularidade dessas histórias.
Site Inumeráveis reúne histórias de vítimas do novo coronavírus
— Quando deixamos de ver apenas os números e descobrimos as histórias, o que sentimos é diferente. O memorial mostrou que havia uma necessidade represada de se mobilizar para contá-las — explica a jornalista Alana Rizzo, uma das coordenadoras do Inumeráveis, idealizado pelo artista Edson Pavoni e pelo empreendedor social Rogerio Oliveira.
Mesmo quando reduzido a algarismos, o coronavírus não é um número qualquer, porém. Sua letalidade é superlativa até se comparada à de tragédias que assombram o imaginário coletivo brasileiro. Em menos de dois meses, a Covid-19 já se tornou o evento mais letal desde a gripe espanhola, em 1918.
O site Inumeráveis conta a história das vítimas da Covid-19
A doença já mata todo dia no Brasil mais que o dobro das vítimas de um dos maiores desastres da História do país, o rompimento da barragem da Vale em Brumadinho (MG), que deixou 270 mortos no ano passado. Seriam necessários 37 acidentes iguais àquele, um a cada 35 horas, para se atingir o mesmo número de mortes da Covid-19 nesses 55 dias.
A queda do voo 447 da Air France, entre Rio e Paris, fez 228 vítimas em 2009. Sob a ótica do coronavírus, seria como se 43 aviões como aquele tivessem caído, ou quase seis por semana no período.
A frequente analogia com batalhas marcantes também faz sentido. Entre dezembro de 1864 e março de 1870, a Guerra do Paraguai, a mais sangrenta da História do país, provocou 50 mil baixas do lado brasileiro, segundo o livro “Maldita guerra: nova história da Guerra do Paraguai”, de Francisco Doratioto. Assim, o conflito levou mais de um ano para atingir o total de vítimas em menos de dois meses de coronavírus.
Os números da gripe espanhola são imprecisos, mas estima-se que a doença tenha matado cerca de 12 mil pessoas só na cidade do Rio entre outubro e novembro de 1918, de acordo com a edição da “Revista Saúde” publicada no ano seguinte. Até agora, a pandemia foi menos mortal no Rio. Mas, dado o crescimento constante no volume diário de mortes e a subnotificação, é factível que sua letalidade se torne equivalente.
Quando o número de vítimas atinge tal proporção, o drama cai em domínio público, e o luto fica confinado à esfera privada. E tudo no coronavírus bagunça esse momento de dor.
A policial militar Raquel Albernaz de Freitas, de 32 anos, viu a avó pela última vez antes que ela se internasse no Hospital da Posse, em Nova Iguaçu. Visitas não eram permitidas. Deusalina Albernaz de Oliveira, de 74 anos, foi transferida por engano para Volta Redonda e lá morreu, oito dias depois da internação. A família só soube que ela estava em outro município quando foi liberar o corpo. O enterro em Inhaúma transcorreu abreviado pelas regras de isolamento, sem velório, com caixão fechado e pouquíssimas pessoas se despedindo.
— Tudo isso deixa um vazio muito grande. A sensação que dá é que você não sabe quem está ali — conta Raquel, que está grávida de seis meses e também foi diagnosticada com Covid-19. — Para piorar, sinto muita falta de empatia. Com tantas mortes, as pessoas tendem a banalizar a perda, só caem na real quando começam a morrer pessoas próximas. A disputa política em torno da doença só prejudica.
A contradição é que, enquanto as mortes se multiplicam e a dor é banalizada, a sociedade atravessa uma espécie de luto coletivo. O diagnóstico é do escritor americano David Kessler, autor de obras influentes sobre o tema, em entrevista à “Harvard Business Review”. Mesmo quem não perdeu ninguém próximo experimenta os sintomas.
— Foram muitas perdas que tivemos, de rotina, de emprego, de liberdade, de amigos. Isso gera sensações comuns em pessoas que vivem o luto. Eu me sinto hoje um pouco como na época em que perdi minha mãe — observa Mariane Maciel, co-fundadora do projeto Vamos Falar Sobre o Luto. — Há um mal-estar generalizado. A esperança é que isso traga mais empatia com quem perdeu alguém para a doença.
O Vamos Falar Sobre o Luto preparou uma cartilha digital reforçando a importância de rituais de despedida mesmo com o distanciamento social e sugerindo formas de mantê-los durante a pandemia. Memoriais virtuais como o Inumeráveis são um caminho, cita Mariane:
— A pessoa não desaparece enquanto alguém se lembrar dela.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)