A short piece that appears in Africa is Country, from their excellent World Cup selection.

Canadians think that to put their flag on a backpack earns them safe-passage globally.   They have no idea. Outside of Europe and North America, to show a Brazilian passport is to not only earn smiles but to instantly invite reverie about people’s memories of Pelé, Rivelino, Zico, Ronaldo and Ronaldinho; if not to hear their condolences, and maybe explanations, about Brazil’s humiliation during the 2014 World Cup.   To travel most of the world with a Brazilian passport is to engage in one long, existential and extended conversation about Brazilian football. 

It’s hard to fully appreciate the extent to which Brazil’s Seleção is the team of Everyone Else on the planet.  From Haiti to India and Mexico, Brazil is almost always everyone’s second team, if not their first.  Many cultures in Africa and Latin America have the figure of a trickster. In Brazil we have a team full of them at every World Cup.  They are multiracial, oddly and singly-named (Hulk? Kaká?), often not especially physically gifted (or fit), but who manage to be the masters of improvisation, flair, and, most of all, beautiful and fun football.  The history of the Seleção is full of legendary moments, their players seeming to do the impossible in their bright yellow and blue uniforms, defeating bigger and stronger opponents, not with strength, but with flashes of individual brilliance and art.   They are postcolonial superheroes from a very fun and groovy future. Bandung may have fizzled but we will always have Pelé in 1958. And if you squint just so, you can almost imagine they are playing barefoot and not actually touching the ground.  

A former combatant from the FMLN in El Salvador once told me he’d heard that Socrates, Brazil’s bearded and chain-smoking Marxist attacking midfielder, organized players to throw the 1982 quarter-final match with Italy as a way to snub the Generals and bring down the military regime.  In the former guerilla’s account, government shelling of the rebels ceased for the duration of the match, broadcast on radio.   But no one could understand the outcome of the game. I have a sharp recollection of that game, too. I was ten that July, when Italy’s Paolo Rossi sent home the amazing team that was going to finally earn the glory denied the country since 1970.  After matches, I would go outside with my friends and imitate the moves of the players, Socrates’ heel-kicks, Zico’s gentle penalties, and Falcão’s improbable runs.    Brazil’s incomprehensible defeat that afternoon sent many of us outside, away from the TVs, there in the outskirts of São Paulo.  I remember walking in disbelief down the middle of an empty street and an adult, maybe a friend’s dad, pulled me aside and whispered that I should not be sad because, for sure, this would surely hurry the end of military rule.

Over the years I have often thought about that account.  It is true, of course, that the regime had a lot of interest in the national team, and probably vetoed Reinaldo, Rei (“King”) an amazing striker prone to making black power salutes. (He was later a politician in Lula’s PT.)   They might have also vetoed Zico and the outspoken Socrates, had they not been so famous, and frankly, so good. Zico was one of the founders of the country’s first union of football players in Rio in the late 1970s, while Socrates led Democracia Corinthiana, a hugely important participatory democracy movement within his team, and was very public in the movement for direct elections that started in 1983.    

The former FMLN guerilla’s theory is almost certainly not true, though.  If nothing else, a victory might have given Socrates – so outspoken – an even bigger platform.   There has been so much reflection and recollection about that day and it is clear that the team really wanted to win.  But they simply couldn’t. It happens. But it is nice to think that the men in the canary-yellow jerseys with their super-human powers might have had another plan that included bringing down dictators and the powers to do so.

As of this writing, we don’t know who will win the World Cup, but we know it will be an European team again (France play Croatia in the final on 15 July 2018).  Like every time but twice in the last three decades, the title will remain in the continent that invented the game in first place. Of course, there is hope that the rainbow face of today’s European teams, the amazing talent of the Mbappes and Pogbas of this world, will help bring along a reimagining of what a Europe can be, or at least make it slightly more friendly to immigrants and their children who call the continent home. 

But it will still be an European team.   We were taught as kids that football was the people’s sport because unlike most other sports you don’t need any equipment to play, just a surface and a round object. And having “happiness at your feet”–as Brazil’s coach likes to say of Neymar–was what made the difference and a Brazilian’s birthright.   Nowadays, though, to win internationally you need other things, too. Like an organized infrastructure from youth clubs to professional leagues, the latest fitness and training regimens, constant exposure of your players to high-level international club play, and access to technology for coaching, among other things.  Of course, as pundits are saying, that almost does not exist outside of Europe. Brazil’s own football infrastructure is in shambles, a shadow of earlier glory days, some teams essentially reduced to talent farms for foreign scouts.

But ,as I tell my kids, heartbroken over yet another Brazilian defeat at the hands of an European team, this does not rule out Brazil in the future.  Of course, we have no Socrates to defend democracy today. And sure, much is stacked against Brazil. But I tell them the story of 1982 and of Brazil’s importance in so many places.  But most of all I tell them about that, in the end, their gift has always been about mastering the improbable.

A short piece by Marcelo K. Silva and myself that appears in NACLA.

Jair Bolsonaro has propelled anger and vitriol against the Left, the poor, and so-called identity politics to the surface of Brazilian society. After his win, what’s next?October 29, 2018Gianpaolo Baiocchi and Marcelo K. Silva

A Bolsonaro campaign ad on a highway in the northeast state of Piauí (Almanaque Lusofonista/Wikimedia Commons)

Brazilians woke up this Monday morning to a nearly unrecognizable country in the aftermath of the most polarized election in generations. On one side, retired captain Jaír Bolsonaro, a self-styled strongman and defender of torture from the far-right promising to rid the country of crime, leftism, political correctness, and red tape. Powered by WhatsApp bots, and fueled by anti-workers’ party sentiment, this was no ordinary right-wing campaign: there were no televised debates, few rallies, and an almost entire absence of god-and-country swag like bumper stickers. On the other side was Fernando Haddad, university professor, the former Mayor of São Paulo and a former Minister of Education. The son of Lebanese migrants and soft spoken to a fault, Haddad, who had only been the official candidate for a month, headed a diverse pro-democracy coalition to try to stave off the country’s descent into authoritarianism.

After a nearly-decisive victory on October 7, in which the level of Bolsonaro’s lead surprised most observers, the country headed to the run-off on Sunday, October 28. Bolsonaro won handily, earning 55% of valid votes to Haddad’s 45%, who increased his support from just 28% in the first round. The hard-right wave that Bolsonaro led also brought dozens of anti-establishment far-right candidates to office throughout the country, upturning all expectations and rules of elections. His own party, the previously insignificant Social Liberal Party (PSL), which had just one member in congress in 2010, now holds 52 elected seats in the chamber of deputies and four in the senate, the second largest presence in parliament. Bolsonaro’s son was elected to congress in São Paulo with the highest vote of any candidate in history. Other right-wing outsider candidates elected included a former porn actor, a member of the Brazilian royal family, a conservative newscaster, and twenty former military or police officers. And 18 of the 27 elected governors in this election are conservatives. Social media and coordinated fake news campaigns played an unprecedented role, while the center-right essentially vanished as a potentially moderating electoral presence. This was also a very disillusioned election: over 30% of voters either nullified their vote, voted blank or abstained, the highest figure since the transition to democracy. But most dramatic has been the way that the campaign has brought to the surface an angry vitriol against the Left and activism, against the poor, and against so-called identity politics.

Bolsonaro himself, in the aftermath of the first round election, announced that, once president, he was going to, once and for all, “put an end to all activism in the country.” If people had been worried about his bombast before, it was the escalating rhetoric and increasing acts of violence by Bolsonaro supporters in the days that followed that sent growing numbers into a panic about what the future might hold. The murder of 63-year capoeira teacher, Moa do Katendê, over his support of Haddad was one of a catalyzing number of events. The simultaneous invasion by military and federal police of dozens of public universities on October 25 was another.

In the days before the run-off election, a broad yet uncoordinated effort against Bolsonaro ensued, which was as desperate as it was restless. In many cases, these efforts were motivated less by an endorsement of Haddad than a fear of an eventual Bolsonaro presidency. Joining other groups that had long rejected Bolsonaro, like the #EleNão campaign, countless groups and individuals took to social media, to door-knocking and to street-campaigning. These efforts came from the ranks of anarchists, socialists, communists, environmentalists, feminists, Black, Indigenous, and LBGT activists, trade unionists, artists, professional organizations, students, Christian progressives, and many others From Jews Against Bolsonaro to the Evangelical Front for the Rule of Law, to the Landless Movement there were last-ditch efforts throughout the country to try to stop the descent into authoritarianism.

In the end, though these efforts did have an impact on the polls, increasing Haddad’s showing by 16% from the first round, it was too little too late.In the end, though these efforts did have an impact on the polls, increasing Haddad’s showing by 16% from the first round, it was too little too late. By early Sunday evening, fireworks were being lit from the top of luxury high-rises in some of the country’s wealthiest cities as the first results came in. By 7 PM, the contest was over, with Bolsonaro winning by a margin of more than ten million votes. His first pronouncement was a speech that was broadcast on Facebook that returned to his familiar campaign themes of God and Country, the dangers of socialism and communism, the importance of a free market, and attacking the media. Shortly after, he gave a speech that was broadcast on all networks that was more conciliatory, saying he would respect the constitution as president.

It is hard to predict what will happen next in Brazil, but the scenario before us is extremely worrying. First, of course, is the immediate threat to human rights and lives. Bolsonaro supporters are fond of saying that it important to separate his bombast from the actual policies his government will carry out. The problem with that line of argument is that if the weeks leading up to the election are any guide, the extreme-right campaign that he has led has actively inspired many acts of violence and intolerance. It is likely this wave will continue, but now with even greater impunity. Brazil already has only the thinnest protections of rights to begin with—it sadly suffers from alarmingly high homicide and police violence rates; and whatever protections vulnerable populations have had in Brazil will in all likelihood be undone. And even if Bolsonaro himself does not have planned policy items for some of his most outrageous statements—such as declaring leftist social movements terrorism, or decrying the existence of Indigenous territories—he comes into office with a large cohort of ultra-right and anti-establishment politicians who will be competing with each other to find ways to do so. One elected candidate, a former police officer from the Southern state of Paraná, became infamous for his action-movie like campaign videos, while another, a woman police officer from São Paulo frequently showed images of a police raid in which she killed an alleged robber.

It is also probable that many of the social gains of the last two decades—Bolsa Família, the cash transfer program, affirmative action policies, and the expansion of access to education, construction of housing for the poor, improved access to basic healthcare—will likely be reversed or severely reduced under a Bolsonaro administration, which promises to reduce social spending and all manner of “pity policies” for “northeasterners, gays, blacks, and women,” severely reduce economic regulation and workers’ rights, do away with several ministries, and privatize state companies, all  deemed “unnecessary costs.” Bolsonaro’s government program reads like an upside-down catalog of every successful major progressive policy in the country since the 1990s.

But perhaps the biggest change this victory signals is that it definitively reverses Brazil’s process of democratization that began in the 1980s as the country transitioned from a two-decade military dictatorshipBut perhaps the biggest change this victory signals is that it definitively reverses Brazil’s process of democratization that began in the 1980s as the country transitioned from a two-decade military dictatorship. Pro-democracy social movements played a central role in both bringing about the end of the regime and in the transition period. Since then, political contests had coalesced around a center-right and a center-left poles, led by the Brazilian Society Democracy Party (PSDB) and the Workers’ Party (PT), respectively.  This political arrangement has essentially been destroyed in the political crisis that has engulfed the country since 2013 and that intensified with Dilma Rousseff’s impeachment in 2016. Not only did institutions lose legitimacy, so did major political parties, paving the way for politicians like Bolsonaro.

But democratization also meant addressing inclusion in this highly unequal country. For the last three decades, social and political forces had organized around a democratic-popular project centered around the PT, something that set them apart from earlier leftist visions in Latin America. The idea was to produce social transformations through democratic means, investing in democratic institutions while also maintaining extra-institutional pressure. Whether speaking of affirmative action in universities, domestic workers’ rights, protection against domestic violence, or educational programs on homophobia in primary schools, the dozen years of PT national administration produced changes, that however small, touched many of Brazil’s inequalities. Despite the fact that the PT advocated a “third way” which was conciliatory and friendly towards capital, these policies provoked conservative backlashes that confronted not only leftist opponents, but democracy itself.

The end of democratization in Brazil harkens back to prior moments in Brazil when social pressures that challenged inequality faced an authoritarian rupture. This is what happened in 1930, and then again in 1964. The first time, it took 16 years until the return of democracy; the second, 21. Now, as we face dark days ahead, with hobbled institutions, weakened political parties, and only the thinnest veneer of protections for the most vulnerable and for dissent, we must remember that Brazil’s democracy, however imperfect, had accomplishments worth defending.

Gianpaolo Baiocchi is an activist and scholar based in New York City, where he directs NYU’s Urban Democracy Lab. His most recent book is We, The Sovereign (Radical Futures, 2018).

Marcelo K. Silva is a professor of sociology at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul in Porto Alegre, where he directs the research group on associativism, engagement, and contestation.

Source: Brazilian Democracy in Peril

Happy to report that Duke UP has released  Beyond Civil Society: Activism, Participation, and Protest in Latin America, edited by Sonia Alvarez, Millie Thayer, Jeff Rubin, Agustin Lao-Montes, and myself.   You can read the foreword and intro here.

Despite recent interest in political ethnography, most of the reflection has been on the ethnographic aspect of the enterprise with much less emphasis on the question implicit in the first word of the couplet: What is actually political about political ethnography and how much should ethnographers pre-define it? The question is complicated because a central component of the definition of what is political is actually the struggle to define its jurisdiction and how it gets distinguished from what it is not. In this article we aim to show how ethnography can actually lead us out of this conundrum in which the political is paradoxically both predefined and, at the same time, the open question that leads the process of inquiry. We do so by advancing a formal and relational approach that provides us with procedural tools to define the nature and specificity of the political bond not ex ante, but rather during the process of research itself. In the first part of the article we historicize the development of political ethnography as a distinct avenue for inquiry and show what have been the challenges to its normalization. This is followed by the article’s main section, which focuses on the four ways in which what is political has been conceptualized in contemporary socio-ethnographical literature. In the conclusion of the article, we advance a lowest common denominator definition proposal, with examples from other scholars as well as from our own research to illustrate how this approach would work.

Keywords

Conceptualization Context of discovery Ethnography Politics Sociology of knowledge

Available here.

This review appears in Contemporary Sociology here

Employment and Development Under Globalization: State and Economy in Brazil, by Samuel Cohn.  2012. Palgrave McMillan.  236pp cloth.

Gianpaolo Baiocchi

NYU

Samuel Cohn’s latest book, Employment and Development under Globalization: State and Economy in Brazil, uses the case of Brazil to revisit some of the classic debates in development and make a case for the usefulness of “Palliative Development,” alongside the better-known strategies of “Transformative Development.”  Palliative development, for Cohn, “is concerned about the economic benefits of growth being widespread [and is] opposed to the benefits of development being limited to a select few.” (p. 2)  It emphasizes stimulating “small, labor intensive enterprises that provide services to the local population.” (p. 180)  This focus stands in sharp contrast to more common analyses of “economic miracles” and rapid social changes.

The book draws significant inspiration from O’Connor’s (1973) classic account of the fiscal crisis of the state and extends that argument to look at the developmental state.  As is well known, O’Connor argued that the state manages the externalities of capitalism, while assuring an environment propitious for profit.   It does so by different kinds of public spending, but is constantly in threat of fiscal crisis because of revolt by competitive sectors of capital that resist paying taxes.  Cohn, in extending this to development, argues for the centrality of state investments in public goods like infrastructure, as well as the constant threat of fiscal constraints that could disable those mechanisms.

Brazil, of course, is today both a marquee case of the possibilities and limits of BRICS countries, a symbol of the possibilities of the “Pink Tide,” and a traditional national case in development studies.   Cohn uses the case of Brazil in the last decades as a way to argue for a renewed look at the importance of state policies in reproducing capitalism, particularly in the post 1980s moment, when debt and the pressures of globalization made earlier strategies reliant on Import Substitution and heavy state investments unviable.  Like with other recent optimistic accounts of the Brazilian model (such as Montero’s Brazil: Reversal of Fortune), Cohn spends some time analyzing a number of successful, pro-poor, pro-development, creative, and efficient policies.   But unlike most other accounts, he does focus on headliner industries, like Brazilian aviation or auto, or even on well-known social policies, like Bolsa Familia.  He focuses instead on small, and relatively prosaic policies that exemplify palliative development.

With an admirable amount of empirical rigor, and based on a decade of research throughout the country, Cohn sets out to test the impact of these specific policies on employment using official data and econometric modeling.   He first explores the what-if scenario of no government intervention on employment through residuals analysis, finding, (perhaps not surprisingly), that intervention is impactful.  Much of the subsequent analysis delves into the outcomes of specific policies: he looks at the effect of vocational education, the creation of infrastructure, rent control of commercial spaces, tax reduction strategies, and the opening of frontiers.  He examines employment in “hotels, restaurants and barber and beauty shops in Brazil from 1940 to 2000.” (9)  The overall findings are that some of these policies, particularly the creation of airports, job training and vocational education, downtown rent control, and the opening of frontiers – have significant and positive outcomes in terms of employment.   Reducing taxes on employers, on the other hand, does not.  The book closes with a series of lessons from the Brazilian case for development policies elsewhere.

There is no doubt the book is an important account by a leading sociologist of development that calls for a recalibration of development studies in the current era.  It is precisely argued, brings a wealth of data to make its case, and fundamentally asks scholars to shift their gaze.   But perhaps because the book opens up new terrain, it also raises a number of questions.   Arguably, the book is less attentive to “politics” (either more formal or the social movement kind that has been so important in Brazil) than either O’Connor’s original account or other accounts of the Brazilian developmental state, such as Peter Evan’s 1979 classic Dependent Development.  It is not the book’s purpose to analyze these dimensions, but there are lots of specificities of Brazilian developmental state, and therefore, the conditions of possibility for the reproduction and applicability of these policies elsewhere.   Some of these policies begun in dictatorship-era Brazil, when there was a specific political calculus of the state vis a vis monopolistic and competitive sectors of capital that made some of these policies more likely in the first place.   There are other questions to be asked, too, of popular demand (or even tolerability) for certain policies or not in more democratic contexts.  “Frontier development” in Brazil dates back to dictatorship era “colonization” strategies that have often had disastrous socio-environmental impacts and worsened patterns of concentration of land (which Cohn briefly discusses).     These questions, of course, do not take away from the book’s very significant achievements, which are to put a number of new questions about policies that may be less glamorous, but ultimately more important, for development.

Evans, P. B. (1979). Dependent development: The alliance of multinational, state, and local capital in Brazil. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press.

O’Connor, J. (1973). The fiscal crisis of the state. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

Marcelo K. Silva and I wrote two pieces for Al Jazeera America, one earlier on, in March of last year on the Elite Revolt, and then one in December on the Impeachment Dilemma.

I re-post them here to have them all in one place.  It’s sad how correct they were about the right-wing origins of the coup.