Senators Antonio Carlos Magalhães and José Sarney are the longest-living Brazilian oligarchs. What differentiates them from their predecessors and ancestors is the control they exercise over the local and the national media.
By Alberto DinesThis e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
The 1930 revolution put Getúlio Vargas in the highest office in the country, but what it really accomplished was the consummation of all tenentista movements of the 1920s against the oligarchies of the Old Republic. It finished off a few fiefs, but Estado Novo created new ones.
Each new jerk in Brazilian politics replaces a bunch of tribal chiefs with another. What the Federation is, in fact, is a collection of local mandarins succeeding each other and making themselves eternal with different names, acronyms and disguises. They challenge economic cycles, dribble political maneuvers, control the generation succession and fill every vacuum of power.
The longest-living and legitimate Brazilian oligarchs are Senators Antonio Carlos Magalhães and José Sarney. The others—such as Quércia, in the interior of São Paulo—are in advanced stage of decomposition and will never manage to gather these many powers and survive these many jolts.
The thing that differentiates this duo of barons from their immediate predecessors and remote ancestors is the control they exercise over the media. And not only the local media (radio, TV and newspapers) but also, and mainly, the national media.
When he was President, Sarney commanded an abundant distribution of concessions and opportunities and, when put against the wall, he knows how to ask for retribution. The best proof of this is his long piece on page 2 of Folha de S. Paulo, contradicting the most straightforward editorial procedures in order to avoid conflicts of interest in the texts of its best-known columnists. Note that the senator-author, in his Friday column, is never qualified as the president of the Senate.
The newspaper pretends that Sarney is a collaborator just like the others. He is not: he has interests, he makes moves and, most importantly, he represents and presides at a power that the press should examine with total neutrality and withdrawal. As "the fine silver in the house", he deserves special deference. His colleagues on the same page, who are among the best opinion-makers in the country, are prevented in advance from contradicting, criticizing or denouncing the man who is not only the president of Congress but the owner of Maranhão State.
Antonio Carlos Magalhães, also known as ACM, is the dean of all oligarchs because he has been in power since Juscelino Kubitschek times, although he was a member of UDN [National Democratic Union, the party that opposed JK]. Sarney only arrived almost a decade later. He was the most faithful servant of the military dictatorship and, later, against his will, also its grave digger.
ACM is more truculent, more daring than his colleague from Maranhão. In the position of Minister of Communications, he was the de facto concessionary of not only an incredible quantity of radio stations but also TV repeaters in the middle of nowhere Brazil. ACM made an indelible mark in social communication in Brazil. He was the producer of one of the most concentrated media systems in the democratic world.
Since he never had the literary ambitions of his colleague, but a phenomenal appetite for power, ACM always worked in the shadow. In all levels. And he did it so well that carlismo became, from a typically baiano political phenomenon, one of the most powerful political lobbies in the country—involving columnists, op-ed writers, publishers, branch directors, editors and, most of all, owners of communications companies with journalistic whims.
Thanks to a network built around exchanges of favors, ACM managed the marvel of producing news and controlling their repercussion at the same time, which is the utmost expression of the art of the factoid. In recent years, he added the advances offered by technology to this "journalistic" expertise, launching a new school in the market—bluff journalism: transcribing recorded telephone conversations and offering them simultaneously to the main media outlets. Anxious to avoid being run over by the competitors, they reproduced anything as long as the origin was a recording—legal or illegal, truthful or distorted, it didn't matter.
One Hundred Days
The feat, which was supposed to be ACM's masterpiece, ended up as his perdition: the planned recording of a deposition at the Federal Public Ministry became the instrument of a scandal, which cost him his Senate mandate. He still managed to succeed in a few maneuvers aimed at controlling its after-effects, but it was evident that his journalistic path was worn out. Copy fatigue: his loyal friends offered him what they could: a sympathetic silence.
Megatapping is too big, too deep, too shocking to be controlled. It is the enlarged portrait of an oligarchy planted in all spheres—from the police to the judiciary, from the local to the state level. It can be the beginning of the end of coronelismo in the Brazilian media.
In order to deter an eventual carlista relapse and thwart political maneuvers of a muffling nature, we must point out the following:
** The scandal was raised on Friday (Feb 7) by columnist Dora Kramer (O Estado de S. Paulo and Jornal do Brasil), Folha de S. Paulo and, the next day, Isto É—the latter with subsidies obviously granted by the Senator-Interceptor himself.
** As the week went by, Folha did a splendid investigation and editing job. A model job, if it had not reduced, drastically and almost in a kind of magic trick, the space, the emphasis and the prominence of the coverage the following weekend (Feb 14-15).
** O Globo has been discreet from the beginning. Their pleiad of columnists punctuating the newspaper from the first to the last page, in wonderful gear, succeeds in keeping the same chilliness of the previous episode, when the Senator resigned his mandate. At some point a green light will have to come on and authorize firmer performances. It would have to be right before or immediately after ACM turns into a Geni [a reference to an execrated prostitute in a Chico Buarque's popular song].
** Admissible, the supposition that Folha's cooling off or Globo's moderation from the beginning, could be credited to the concern with the developments encroaching upon the Senator's private life. Commendable scruples, if the stories published during the weekend dealt with other aspects of the case and not personal ones. There is, in this episode, at least one dozen angles, abuse and serious infractions to be investigated without necessarily exploring something as painful for a family as the public exposure of the devious behavior of their head.
** Veja magazine, which in recent years has been succeeding in freeing itself from ACM's influence, has cut any direct or indirect connection, making it impossible to return to the previous status quo: ACM can no longer count on the largest-circulation weekly in the country. A regional oligarchy, as planted as it may be in the popular classes, cannot stay this vulnerable with the so-called "multipliers of opinion" all over the country. It is lamentable that the ostensive rupture with the person who for 20 years operated as a true eminence grise finally materialized by means of a cover story related with more personal aspects.
** Época (issue 248, 2/17/03) deserves special praise because, while published by the Globo Group, it has established (or was authorized to establish) an autonomous editorial behavior. The tendency manifested itself very clearly last year, when the weekly had a major role in covering the police investigation which caught the collection of 50 reais bills belonging to the Sarney family. The cover story, again related with the Senator's private life, signaled the irremediable isolation of ACM within the most powerful of all Brazilian communication groups.
** Isto É and Carta Capital, in this episode, are not showing signs of securing their independence. The first had an extremely discreet line on the cover and a mere four pages of information. The latter, one single page only.
** O Estado de S. Paulo has also adopted a linear, natural behavior, without the zigzags of the competition. They got in slightly late, with no daring advances and no suspicious back-ups. They were professional.
Changes not promised and hopes unfurled may materialize before the first 100 days of the new administration are completed. The end of the oligarchies represent the end of patronage and the path will be opened to Zero Hunger, Zero Thirst and Decency 100.
It all depends on the media.
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2007-03-17 09:58:33
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answer #1
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answered by nonconformiststraightguy 6
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