Annotations for Communities: Black People

The Brazilian weekly, Opinião, reported this week from Rio on the further activities of the Catholic Church in opposing the military government. Brazil's bishops, in their strongest and most detailed declaration of human rights, have denounced various types of discrimination in this country and the limitation on basic freedoms here. According to conclusions of the 13th General Assembly of the National Conference of Brazilian Bishops made public last week, "It is the duty of the Roman Catholic Church to inform public opinion of the violations of human rights and to defend those rights." The question of human rights was one of the main topics on the agenda of the General assembly that met in Sao Paulo for 10 days last month. A total of 215 bishops or 80% of the episcopate of the world's largest Catholic country, took part in the meeting.

Opinião continues, "The document is not really an open challenge to Brazilian authorities, but a clear statement of the church's position on the question of human rights, and an offer to work with the authorities to improve the situation. In the last year, individual bishops and groups of bishops have publicly attacked Brazil's military regime on its social policies. In particular, they have denounced police and military authorities for arbitrary and repressive actions which have included torture. They have also attacked civilian authorities for allowing large business interests to exploit rural workers in the name of economic development."

The basic human rights, said by the bishops to be among those least respected, were the right to liberty and physical integrity when faced with excessive repression. The right to political participation, in particular denied to the opposition party. The right to association, especially in regard to labor unions. The right to expression and information. The right to a legal defense, in view of the absence of habeas corpus provision. The right to possess the land on which one works. The right not to be subjected to systematic, political, and social propaganda, and aggressive and indiscriminate commercial advertising. And the right of the church to greater participation in social activities sponsored by the civilian authorities.

Opinião concludes, "The bishops came out even more strongly in denouncing various types of discrimination in Brazilian society. Including discrimination in favor of big landowners and against peasant families. For business management against workers. For whites against blacks. For pro-regime, political parties against the opposition. And for men as opposed to women. The bishop's strongest denunciation was directed against the oppression of Brazil's Indian population. The document charged that about 100,000 Indians were in the process of being exterminated. The document urged that the church make a study of the present condition of the Indians and that all persons engaged and work with Indians join forces to help them." This is from the Brazilian weekly Opinião.

Our feature this week is a commentary on Latin American art, taken from a recent book by Jean Franco called "The Modern Culture of Latin America".

An intense social concern has been the characteristic of Latin American art for the last 150 years. Literature and even painting and music have played a social role, with the artists acting as teacher, guide, and conscience of his country. The Latin American has generally viewed art as an expression of the artist's whole self, a self which is living in a society and which therefore has a collective as well as an individual concern. On the other hand, the idea of the moral neutrality or the purity of art has had relatively little impact. 

In countries like those of Latin America, where national identity is still in the process of definition and where social and political problems are both huge and inescapable, the artist's sense of responsibility towards society needs no justification. Generally, movements in the arts have not grown out of a previous movement, but have arisen in response to factors external to art. A new social situation defines the position of the artist, who then improvises or borrows a technique to suit his purpose. 

Ms. Franco's book is a careful study of these changes in the artist's attitude to society and the way that this is expressed in literature and, to some extent, the other arts. She begins her analysis with the year 1888, the year of the publication of an influential volume of poetry by Ruben Dario, the leader of Latin America's first native artistic movement, known as modernism. 

Modernist is a term used to characterize many diverse writers, such as Nicaraguan Ruben Dario, the Cuban Jose Marti, and the Colombian, Jose Silva. All of these writers had a great deal in common. The type of society the modernist hated above all was contemporary bourgeois society. This may seem strange, since Spanish America was only at the margin of industrial and capital expansion.

Yet the poets did not have to see dark satanic mills on their doorsteps to realize that a new and disturbing force was looming over them. The cash nexus, destructive of all other human relations, was what the artist most feared. Indeed, many of the prose pieces written by the modernists are in the nature of allegories about the relation of the artist to a materialist society. The poet's hatred of the materialism of his age was often to remain exclusively verbal.

But there were very many different shades of social involvement. From Dario's aloofness to the militant commitment of Jose Marti, a dedicated fighter for Cuban independence, nothing could be further from an elite attitude than these words of Marti. "Poetry is the work both of the bard and of the people who inspire him. Poetry is durable when it is the work of all. Those who understand it are as much its authors as those who make it. To thrill all hearts by the vibrations of your own, you must have the germs and inspirations of humanity. Above all, you must live among a suffering people." 

After this early period, characterized by a real or symbolic rebellion, came an intense concern with culture rather than politics. A new influential movement known as Arielism took its name from an essay by Uruguayan Rodo, in which he emphasized the spirituality of Latin American culture, especially when contrasted with the vulgar neighbors to the north, the United States. There was an emphasis on original native culture and efforts to revive the memories of heros of the past. 

After the first World War, the Latin American intellectuals began to seek some roots in the cultures of the Indian and the Negro, and in the land itself, alternative values to those of a European culture, which seemed on the verge of disintegration. Literature about Indians and Latin America was to have two distinct functions. One was to fulfill a direct social purpose by arousing a general awareness of the plight of submerged sections of the population. The other was to set up the values of Indian culture and civilization as an alternative to European values. 

This tenancy found its best expression in Mexico, where the world famous muralists Diego Rivera, Orozco, Siqueiros, and O'Gorman revived mythological Indian figures with very beautiful and innovative techniques. The Negro tradition expressed itself in the 1920s within Cuba and fostered a great deal of literature, as well as music. This trend towards more native emphasis in Latin America was a very important stage of development. At its most superficial, it was a gesture of defiance towards Europe and the United States. At its best, it did justice to hitherto ignored, if not disparaged segments of the population. 

In the 1920s, the world gradually began to divide into the hostile political camps of communism and fascism. Political concern was almost unavoidable. Whether such concern would be reconciled with the pursuit of art was another matter. Some intellectuals became militants and abandoned their painting or poetry. Some put their art to the service of a message. A few attempted to find a form of art which would universalize their political concern. 

In Latin America, many communists and socialist parties were founded and run by the artists and intellectuals. The most outstanding example was the Mexican Communist Party, which had, at one time, no less than three painters, Rivera, Siqueiros, and Guerrero on its executive committee. In Peru, the socialist party was founded by an intellectual, Mariategui. In 1936, the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War drew many more writers and artists into the left-wing ranks, and prompted middle-class intellectuals to join with workers and peasants. 

Of all the poets and authors involved in this political reawakening, Pablo Neruda, the Chilean poet, succeeded most in bringing political elements into poetry without sacrificing originality or creative depth. While arguing that poetry should not be separated from everyday life, but rather should be impure, as he put it, "corroded as if by an acid, by the toil of the hand, impregnated with sweat and smoke, smelling of urine and lilies". He still managed, as is obvious from the quote, to use very striking and beautiful imagery. 

The novelists of the early 20th century also show political concern, but are preoccupied with such philosophical and ethical issues as authenticity. Carlos Fuentes and Juan Rufo in Mexico both struggled with the problems of the Mexican consciousness. Ms. Franco writes, "In the modern novel, revolution is no longer seen as a total solution. At best, it is only an essential first step. The real battle, it has suggested, is now within the human mind and particularly within the minds of the upper and middle classes, whose failure to construct a reasonable society is one of the tragedies of Latin America." 

For a century and a half, the republics of Latin America have been following different paths. Mexico has undergone a social revolution. Paraguay has lived under a series of dictators. Argentina's population has been transformed by immigration from Europe. Obviously, such factors have their repercussions in the continent's literature, which besides common Latin American features, has also specifically Argentinian, Mexican, or Paraguayan characteristics. 

These local variants are not necessarily political. The incidents of illiteracy, the presence of a large rural population also affect the artistic environment. This does not mean that socially underdeveloped countries do not produce good literature, but simply that in such places the artist's task is lonelier and more difficult. 

Most countries in Latin America have experienced political oppression during the present century, and in many, the condition has been constant. Contemporary literature abounds with the personal testimonies of men who have been imprisoned and persecuted by dictators. In many countries, the problem of oppression is much wider than the immediate physical consequences. The writer suffers from the much slower torments of frustration, lack of freedom to write as he wishes, and a crushing intellectual environment. To be born and grow up in a Latin American dictatorship is, to use the words of Asturias, "to be born into a tomb". 

Two outstanding writers, Augusto Roa Bastos and Miguel Angel Asturias, the first from Paraguay and the second from Guatemala, have succeeded in gaining an international reputation, despite the inhibitions of their background. Asturias' book, Men of Corn, traces the dispossession of the Indians and the commercialization of agriculture. Roa Bastos' short story, "The Excavation", presents a nightmare of frustration in which those who rebel against the status quo are shamelessly murdered. The works of such writers as Asturias and Roa Bastos only serve to emphasize the tragic waste of human potential inherent in a dictatorship. These problems are particularly relevant to the Brazilian situation today, where a censorship of all printed and electronic media is unlimited. 

Latin American intellectuals have always been intrigued with the subject of revolution. The Mexican experience of 1910 is very prominent in the literature and art of the last decades. The Cuban Revolution has also had a great effect on national cultural life. Although the changes in the political and social life of Cuba are still too recent for a solid judgment to be formed, the revolution of 1959 changed the social structure of Cuba. Most of the upper class and many of the middle and professional classes left the island.

A vigorous campaign against illiteracy has brought into being a new amass readership, encouraged to write and help to publish by the official Union of Artists and Writers, and by the prizes offered by the Casa de las Americas, which acts as a cultural clearinghouse. Book production has enormously increased, and there are now available cheap editions of many Cuban and Latin American classics.

In a 1961 speech to intellectuals, Castro guaranteed freedom of literary expression, declaring, "Within the revolution, everything, outside the revolution, nothing," a guarantee that was repeated by other leading intellectuals and which has allowed a remarkable variety of styles. Unlike Soviet writing, realism has not been the only permitted style. Science fiction, fantasy, and black humor are all common. Within the first 10 years, the struggle in Cuba has not meant the sacrifice of spontaneity and variety. It'll be interesting to see whether, in time, totally new art forms will emerge. 

To declare one's self an artist in Latin America has frequently involved conflict with society. In the 19th century, the artist was divided from most of his fellow countrymen because of his culture and upbringing. As we have seen, the majority of 19th century reformers were also political fighters dedicated to reforming their society. It was only towards the end of the century, with modernism, that it was even suggested that art might be more important than the political struggle. 

This did not mean that they had given up on social programs. On the contrary, the modernist ideal of society was the exact contrary of the vulgar materialism, which they regarded as the symptom of the age, and their way of life was a protest against those who were uncritical of bourgeois values. Without abandoning ideals of culture and refinement, the Arielist generation saw itself as moral leader. The artist put his faith in education and in the written word as a means of changing society. 

However, ultimately, neither the written word or education was effective. The Arielist generation was overtaken by a rising tide of unrest, by the shattering impact of world events such as the Russian and Mexican revolutions and the First World War. The post-war generation was no longer in a position to feel superior. The masses had become a power to be reckoned with. The intellectual was therefore obliged either to regard himself as an ally of the masses, a helper in their cause, or if he could not do this, he tended to stand aside, proclaiming that politics and social reform belonged to a world of appearances. 

At any rate, there are many signs that Latin American literature has come of age. Two Nobel Prizes in the last five years have gone to Latin Americans, Miguel Angel Asturias of Guatemala, and Pablo Neruda of Chile. The work of these two men effectively summarizes many of Ms. Franco's points about Latin America and the artist's social concerns. Asturias' most famous series of novels deals with the role of foreign banana companies in his native country, and Neruda's verse is an enthusiastic witness to the success of the new Chilean regime. 

Our feature this week is the first half of an article on the controversial Brazilian model of economic development written by the United Presbyterian Church and reprinted in the Mexican daily El Dia. 

Most Americans don't know it, but the land of Carmen Miranda and the bossa nova has become the industrial giant of the Southern Hemisphere. Derided only a few short years ago as the perpetual land of the future, Brazilians now proclaim loudly that the future has arrived. "Underdeveloped hell", read the slogan at one of Sao Paulo's recent auto shows. The talk now is of an economic miracle to rival the recovery of West Germany after World War II. 

One wonders what this economic boom means for the majority of the Brazilian population. Brazil's resources may be extensive, but the majority of its people have always been poor, and their suffering great. Brazil's Indian population was nearly wiped out by the Portuguese colonists in the 16th and 17th centuries. Black slavery was introduced early into Brazil and was practiced widely until 1888. Historically, most Brazilians, slave or free, have been dependent and poor. Even those who own land, supervise plantations, and led expeditions were poor by today's standards. Very few had much in the way of comforts and goods. For most of its history, Brazil was a colony. It was governed by Portugal and existed to make money for the Portuguese. No matter that Indians were exterminated and African slaves went to early graves. 

One must not forget that most of Brazil's population is racially mixed, according to El Dia, that much of it is Black, and that its history of subjugation and misery continues to this day. 

There exists in Brazil one of the deepest cleavages between rich and poor, economically, culturally, and racially, to be found anywhere in the world. A few facts may help sketch the current scene. Here are Brazil's income distribution figures for 1968. The richest 1% of the population received an annual per capita income of $6,500. The middle 40% income group received $350 in 1968, and the poorest 50% of the population earned an average income of $120 in that year. What this says is that one half of Brazil's population in the middle of the 1960s had an average cash income of 35 cents a day. Most people, in other words, live outside the money economy. A cultural and economic middle class does exist in Brazil. It is the small, relatively privileged top 10% of the population. A tiny part of this group is wealthy, but most of it is composed of business and professional people, army officers and government officials, and corresponds to the salaried urban middle class in the United States. 

"But what do you do about poverty?", asks El Dia. A decade ago, Brazilian leaders and their North American allies embarked on an alliance for progress, a program which had its roots in Kubitschek's Operation Pan America. Kubitschek was president of Brazil from 1956 to 1961. His idea was to improve the lives of all Latin Americans by laying out an elaborate and massive program of economic development. He would stimulate this development with huge inputs of foreign capital, principally from the United States and Western Europe. Factories would be built in Latin America to produce the things people needed, provide them with jobs and wages, and yield tax revenues for their schools and cities. Foreign investors would become catalysts in the process of developing the natural and human resources of Latin America and partners in the creation of new and greater wealth for everyone. 

The key to the process of industrialization in Brazil was to be a program of import substitution. The idea was for Brazil to limit the importation of manufactured goods and build domestic industry behind high tariffs. Thus, Brazil would exploit her own internal market. Brazilian industries would be created to supply a domestic market, formerly undeveloped or in the hands of foreign companies. Once these companies were on their feet, the tariff walls would be lowered, forcing Brazilian industry to become more efficient and competitive. Finally, these industries would operate without protection and in competition on the world market. Brazil would then begin to export manufactured goods, improve her balance of trade and be on her way. 

A glance at Brazil's economic history is instructive. El Dia explains that traditionally, the Brazilian economy was based on agriculture and the export of agricultural commodities and minerals, coffee, cocoa, sugar, cotton, iron ore and gems. Rubber and gold were of great importance at one time. But countries whose economies are based on the export of primary products play a losing game. They are subject to the fluctuations of the world market and the increasing competition of other primary producers. Brazil's economic history is characterized by a succession of cycles of its major export commodities. From the early 16th century on, this was in turn the story of dye, wood, sugar, gold and coffee. The latter, of course, is still Brazil's major export commodity, although its strength has fluctuated substantially with changes in world demand. 

Against this discouraging history, the process of industrialization began, but it was a late beginning. Until 1822, Brazil was a Portuguese colony administered along strict mercantilist lines. That is, no industry was allowed to develop. It was not until the First World War that the beginnings of industrialization were much felt. The impetus towards industrialization came from the impact of the two World Wars, largely because of the interruption of supplies from overseas and the elimination of foreign competition. It was during this period that Brazil's import substitution policies began. 

Kubitschek was undoubtedly one of Brazil's most enthusiastic developmentalists. When he was inaugurated in 1956, he immediately set up a national development council, formulated a program of targets, and called for 50 years of development in five. His most spectacular project was the building of Brasilia, the country's modernistic capital, 600 miles into the interior. Brazil's automobile industry began under Kubitschek. Steel and cement production doubled and power generation tripled. 

After Kubitschek, however, the country experienced a period of political instability. Jânio Quadros resigned shortly after taking office, and the administration of was marked by a period of runaway inflation. By 1963, prices were going up by 71% a year. In 1963, the gross national product increased only 1.6%, while population growth exceeded 3%, thus producing a negative growth in per capita income. 

Brazil's relations with foreign investors and the United States government suffered during this time. Popular movements were gaining force and demanding redress of the country's longstanding inequities. Social unrest was widespread and growing. United States economic aid and corporate investments dropped sharply. Then in March 1964, the Brazilian army staged a coup d'etat and the United States recognized the provisional military government within 24 hours. United States economic aid was then restored at higher levels than ever before, and US technicians and advisors began to enter the country in unprecedented numbers.

The Brazilian military, under Castelo Branco, crushed the protest movements, jailed their leaders and deprived civilian political leaders of political rights for 10 years. Under the leadership of Brazil's new Harvard-trained Minister of Planning, Roberto Campos, stringent measures were taken to stem inflation, and tax concessions and investment guarantees were set up to lure back foreign capital.

The economic picture began to change. In 1965, the Brazilian economy, principally the industrial sector, grew at a rate of 3.9%. In 1966, the rate was 4.3%. In 1967, it was 5%, and in 1968, it was 6.3%. Since 1968, the GNP has increased by no less than 9% a year to a record high of 11% in 1972. This is what Brazilians call their economic miracle, and it is indeed a formidable achievement. The evidence is everywhere. One may raise questions about the way Brazil is growing and about who is benefiting from this growth and who is not, but the growth is very real. 

According to El Dia, in 1968 the US Information Agency in Rio released a somewhat whimsical TV spot announcement, extolling the success of Brazil's industrial development. It showed a scantily clad and shapely model operating a massive drill press to the sensuous beat of the samba and asked, "Is this development or isn't it?" 

For many Brazilians, the answer was, "Maybe not." They had basic questions to ask about what was happening to their country, and they were not matters about which to be whimsical. The first question has to do with the theory of import substitution. On the surface, it looks like a good idea for Brazil to cut foreign imports and encourage the growth of domestic industry in a protected market. Why shouldn't Brazil supply its own consumer needs, reinvest its profits, and spread the wealth? Perhaps it should. The problem is the theory doesn't work that way.

It is not Brazilians, by and large who are manufacturing the import substitutes, but foreign companies incorporated under Brazilian law. No group of private investors in Brazil, for example, could possibly compete with Volkswagen, Ford, and General Motors in establishing an automotive industry. There are, of course, many successful Brazilian industrialists, but they compete at a great disadvantage against the corporate giants of the United States, Western Europe, and Japan.

An American professor in Brazil put it this way. "What was supposed to be a solution for Brazil has turned out to be a solution for us. It was supposed to be a gain for Brazil to have foreign companies come in and set up shop. What we are now discovering," the professor said, "is that these companies make far more money through direct investments in manufacturing and sales operations in Brazil than they were able to make previously by exporting these same products from home. Volkswagen and Ford no longer ship cars to Brazil from Bremerhaven and New York. They manufacture them in Sao Paulo. Why is this more profitable? Certain costs, of course, are lower, but the more compelling answer is that the Brazilian market can be more effectively penetrated when a company's entire manufacturing, sales and servicing operation is managed within the host country." 

John Powers, president of Charles Pfizer & Company Pharmaceuticals, put it this way, in a speech to the American Management Association. "It is simply not possible in this decade of the 20th century to establish a business effectively in most world markets, in most products, by exporting. Successful market penetration usually requires building warehouses, creating and training an organization. It requires local sales promotion and building plants or assembly lines to back up the marketing effort. In short, it requires direct investment." 

It should not be surprising that some Brazilians are wondering who's helping whom. It is argued, of course, that even though foreign corporations take sizable profits out of Brazil, both in the form of repatriated profits and from cheaper production costs, Brazil benefits more than it loses. Certainly, some Brazilians gain from the salaries and wages paid to Brazilian managers and factory workers, from taxes paid to the state and from the availability of added goods and services. Whether the country gains more than it loses is another matter, and the answer depends on more than conventional economic considerations. 

You have been listening to the first part of a two-part feature on the Brazilian economic development model, written by the United Presbyterian Church and reprinted in the Mexican daily, El Dia. 

The British News Weekly, Latin America reports that the expropriation of Cerro de Pasco Corporation and its assets in Peru on New Year's Day was a logical step forward in that government's efforts to bring the Peruvian economy under national control, but it had long been avoided for three reasons. In the first place, there was a very real fear that of another confrontation with Washington and of scaring off potential investors in the mining projects which the government was desperately anxious to open up. Secondly, Cerro's operations in the Central Andes are extremely antiquated having been run down over the past few years and would require substantial investment. And thirdly, Cerro de Pasco was deeply involved in the medium-sized Peruvian mining operations, which will now effectively fall into the control of the state sector of the Peruvian economy. 

Sources in Washington have been hinting recently that the Nixon administration was prepared to allow the Peruvian government to nationalize Cerro without making too much fuss and that there will shortly be a package deal covering all the matters still outstanding between the two governments. The vex question of the International Petroleum Company, a Rockefeller concern nationalized by Peru in 1968 will not be mentioned, but the Peruvians are believed to have given some ground in the question of compensation for WR Grace's Sugar Estates. 

Apparently, President Nixon's special representative James Green of Manufacturers Hanover Bank was kept informed of all developments leading up to the expropriation. The packages reported to include a number of United States loans, some of which will be used to pay compensation to the Cerro Corporation, Cerro de Pasco's parent company. 

The Cerro management is very well aware that it's 20% stake in the Southern Peru Copper Company is worth more than all of the assets of Cerro de Pasco combined. Certainly Cerro was unhappy to be losing Cerro de Pasco says Latin America, but the best two thirds of a cake is much better than no cake at all. It may yet be that there will be disputes over the whole issue as to who owes what to whom, but no one apparently expects the repeat of the international hullabaloo, which followed the expropriation of the International Petroleum Company in 1968. 

Cerro de Pasco for many years virtually ruled Central Peru. Not only were its own mines scattered through the mountains, but it purchased ores from independent miners and had large stakes in most important mining operations. It ran a large metallurgical complex, a railway, several hydroelectric generating centers and vast haciendas, which have all been expropriated under agrarian reform legislation. These holdings had been built up during the course of the past half century and formed the basis for a corporate empire with metal fabricating plants in the United States and investments in the Philippines and Chile. 

The Rio Blanco Mine in Chile was nationalized by the popular Unity government in 1971. Cerro has feared nationalization in Peru ever since the military took over the International Petroleum Company in 1968. The management was acutely aware of the company's exposure there, and this was reflected in the persistently low value of the company's shares on The New York Stock Exchange. In these circumstances, the company was reluctant to invest in its Peruvian operations. 

In the preamble to its decree of expropriation, the government accused the company of neglecting essential maintenance of polluting rivers despite government orders to clean up its operations and of exploiting only the richer ores on their mining concessions. This latter point of rapidly mining only the richest deposits just before an expropriation is important since normal mining practice is to maintain steady productivity throughout the maximum economic life of a mine. Asset strippers try to maximize profits for a few years leaving quantities of low quality ores, which by themselves would be uneconomic to mine. 

The problems which the new Peruvian company set up specifically to take over the Cerro de Pasco mines is likely to face, go far to explain why the government was always reluctant to go ahead with the expropriation, that from the British News Weekly, Latin America. 

According to the British News weekly, Latin America, Brazil's growing interest in black Africa was clearly revealed by the visits earlier this year to that continent by the Brazilian foreign minister. In the view of most observers, this sudden interest had been forced upon Brazil by the urgent need for more markets for Brazil's manufactured products and a reasonably reliable and cheap source of raw materials for its industries. 

On the face of it, the more advanced countries of black Africa, such as Nigeria, offered ideal prospects, but these are marred by Brazil's extremely close ties with Portugal and its African territories of Angola, Mozambique and Guinea, and by a rapidly growing commercial relationship between Brazil and South Africa. 

In all its negotiations with Africa, Brazil has maintained an equally distant position between the interests of black Africa and of the colonial powers of Portugal and South Africa. The reason is not far to seek. Brazil's relationship with Portugal is long and very close, and the large Portuguese element in the Brazilian population is an ever present pressure group. More important, Portugal provides a gateway to Europe for Brazilian products by the back door and through its African colonies, a gateway to Africa. 

Although Brazil's relations with South Africa are a very recent origin, they have been strengthened fast. Trade between the two countries has passed the $90 million mark, which is more than Brazil's trade with all of the countries of black Africa combined. Direct air services between the two countries have recently been initiated and a firm invitation for South Africa to invest in Brazil was extended by Brazil's foreign minister at this year's session of the United Nations General Assembly. That report on British interests and black Africa from the British News Weekly, Latin America.