Bolsonaro quizá no logre acabar con todos nosotros (trad.)

Posted: 11th agosto 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Traduções
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James Marshall

The New York Times
Aug. 9, 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

Read in English | Ler em português

SÃO PAULO, Brasil — No sé si es porque al fin me aplicaron la primera dosis de la vacuna contra la COVID-19 —quizá la esperanza sea un efecto secundario de la vacuna de AstraZeneca—, pero por primera vez en esta larga pandemia, siento que el presidente Jair Bolsonaro quizá no logre acabar con todos nosotros.

Sí, lo está intentando con todas sus fuerzas: hemos registrado más de 560.000 muertes hasta el momento —somos el segundo lugar con mayor número de víctimas en el mundo después de Estados Unidos— y la variante delta está en camino. Desde el principio, el presidente saboteó los intentos de frenar la transmisión del virus, patrocinó tratamientos ineficaces, ayudó a difundir noticias falsas y permitió, a causa de su negligencia, que otra variante del virus se extendiera.

Sin embargo, ni siquiera Bolsonaro pudo acabar con el amor inquebrantable que los brasileños sienten por las vacunas. A pesar de todo —muertes, desastre económico, sufrimiento incalculable— no hemos sucumbido ante la desesperación. Al contrario, seguimos siendo de los ciudadanos más entusiastas respecto de la inoculación en el mundo.

No siempre ha sido así. En diciembre pasado, casi uno de cada cuatro brasileños pensaba rechazar la vacuna. Por aquel entonces, el presidente decía que “no iba a vacunarse y punto” y que los ciudadanos tendrían que firmar una exención de responsabilidad para vacunarse. Bolsonaro también exageró los efectos secundarios de las vacunas e insinuó que la vacuna de Pfizer podría convertir a la gente en cocodrilos. No obstante, en cuanto comenzó nuestra campaña nacional de vacunación, a finales de enero, las dudas empezaron a disiparse. Cuantas más personas se vacunaban, más querían vacunarse también los demás.

Sucedió de manera casi natural, como si la gente solo hubiera recuperado el sentido común. Primero estuvo la sensación viral de “Vacina Butantan”, un hipnótico remix de un músico de “funk” llamado MC Fioti que celebraba la inoculación. Grabado en el interior de uno de los principales institutos de investigación biomédica de Brasil —con el personal que bailaba—, pronto acumuló trece millones de vistas en YouTube. Cuando Río de Janeiro comenzó, el primero de febrero, a vacunar a los mayores de 99 años, la alegría fue generalizada: la vacuna estaba en camino. Pronto llegaron las largas filas de autos, que se extendían hasta donde alcanzaba la vista, mientras la gente esperaba con ansias su turno.

Los esfuerzos de Bolsonaro por desalentar la vacunación estaban fracasando. Luego, en marzo, las cosas empeoraron para él. Un juez del Supremo Tribunal Federal descartó varios casos de corrupción contra el expresidente Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, el más grande rival de Bolsonaro, con lo cual se restauran sus derechos políticos y se despeja el camino para una candidatura presidencial el próximo año. En su primer discurso después de la decisión del juez, Lula da Silva condenó el mal manejo de la pandemia por parte del gobierno e instó a la población a vacunarse.

Horas después, como por arte de magia, Bolsonaro apareció en público con cubrebocas y dijo que siempre había apoyado la vacunación. A finales de mes, el número de brasileños que se negaban a ser vacunados había disminuido de manera drástica hasta llegar al nueve por ciento. En julio, la cifra había bajado al cinco por ciento, lo que sitúa al país entre los países que mejor han aceptado la vacunación en el mundo.

El entusiasmo por la vacunación también se aprecia en las tasas de aceptación. La población de edad avanzada en Brasil, uno de los primeros grupos a los que se dirigió la vacunación, se ha inoculado con gran éxito: el 87,5 por ciento de las personas mayores de 65 años han recibido el total de sus dosis, un porcentaje mayor que en Estados Unidos, donde las vacunas son mucho más fáciles de conseguir.

De hecho, me di cuenta el otro día de que no conozco personalmente a nadie que no vaya a vacunarse, incluso entre los que votaron por Bolsonaro y aún lo defienden, y los que inicialmente dudaban. No es solo en mi círculo social: el hijo mayor de Bolsonaro —a quien definitivamente no conozco— recibió hace poco su primera dosis. Hace unos meses, el jefe de gabinete del presidente fue captado por una cámara admitiendo que se había vacunado “en secreto”. Otro ejemplo emblemático de las ansias por la vacunación de los brasileños fue que un fugitivo de la justicia, en lugar de escapar a las colinas, se formó en una fila de vacunación, pero fue detenido antes de lograrlo. (¡Lo siento por él!).

Eso no significa que el resto de nuestra trayectoria en esta pandemia sea menos trágica: seguimos registrando cerca de mil muertes por COVID-19 al día. El país sigue luchando por adherirse a algunas de las medidas más básicas para frenar la transmisión del virus, como el distanciamiento social y el uso adecuado de cubrebocas, y fracasa de manera rotunda con algunas otras, como las pruebas masivas y el rastreo de contactos. Sin embargo, simplemente no tenemos suficientes vacunas para satisfacer nuestro afán por recibirlas.

No olvidemos —nunca— el hecho de que el Ministerio de Salud de Brasil ignoró 101 correos electrónicos de Pfizer, en los que la farmacéutica le ofrecía vacunas, según la investigación parlamentaria sobre la gestión gubernamental de la pandemia. El ministerio también rechazó 42,5 millones de dosis de Covax, la iniciativa de reparto de vacunas de la Organización Mundial de la Salud, mientras el gobierno intentaba sacar adelante acuerdos ocultos de vacunas, potencialmente corruptos.

Como resultado, mientras nuestro sistema sanitario podría haber vacunado con facilidad a más de dos millones de personas al día, algunas ciudades siguen quedándose sin dosis. El despliegue sigue siendo dolorosamente lento; seis meses después, solo el 21 por ciento de la población tiene el esquema de inmunización completo. Nuestros vecinos de Chile y Uruguay van mucho mejor, con un 65 por ciento.

No obstante, la esperanza es inequívoca. Después de todo, parece que ni siquiera uno de los peores líderes del mundo —con sus planes descabellados, su incompetencia y sus noticias falsas— fue capaz de hacer tambalear la confianza de los brasileños en las vacunas y en nuestro sistema de salud pública.

Incluso quizá vivamos lo suficiente para verlo perder su puesto.

Vanessa Barbara es editora del sitio web literario A Hortaliça, autora de dos novelas y dos libros de no ficción en portugués, y colaboradora de Opinión.

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Miracle Cures and Magnetic People. Brazil’s Fake News Is Utterly Bizarre.

Posted: 8th julho 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Artigos, New York Times
Tags: , , , , ,
Illustration by The New York Times; Photographs via Getty/NIH

The New York Times
July 5, 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

Ler em português | Leer en español

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — Hydroxychloroquine is not effective against Covid-19. No. Definitely not. But Brazilians still aren’t sure. After all, just the other day a friend’s cousin forwarded a headline on WhatsApp claiming that all I.C.U. beds in the city of Miracatu are empty because the mayor adopted President Jair Bolsonaro’s “early treatment” — consisting of hydroxychloroquine, ivermectin and azithromycin — for Covid-19. OK, Miracatu does not have a hospital. But still: How can we be sure?

That’s just one of dozens of fake news stories about Covid-19 treatments circulating on social media — including one that advocates “nebulized” hydroxychloroquine, Mr. Bolsonaro’s new obsession. Well over a year into the pandemic, false claims still swirl. Is it true that face masks reduce the flow of oxygen to the lungs and can cause cancer? Is the coronavirus a biological weapon created by China? What about the involvement of Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg and George Soros? (Fact-checkers have been very busy.)

Even now, after the death of half a million citizens, Brazilians are forwarding delirious claims that hospitals are empty and people are being buried alive to inflate coronavirus statistics. Last year, as daily deaths soared, stories about empty coffins and staged burials abounded. It’s almost as if Brazilians couldn’t — wouldn’t — accept that things could really be so bad and took refuge in paranoia, suspicion and conspiracy. In this, of course, they had a guide: Mr. Bolsonaro, at every turn, has sought to spread mischief and misinformation.

Perhaps this sounds familiar. After all, aren’t fake news and Covid denial global problems? But there’s something special about Brazil. An interdisciplinary group of Brazilian researchers found not only that the country has among the most false claims in the world — only India and the United States have more — but also that Brazil’s disinformation is remarkably isolated from other countries. This might be, the researchers conclude, “strong evidence that the country is distancing itself from the ongoing scientific debate.”

Sounds about right. In Brazil, some falsehoods have prevailed over common sense, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Every time you enter a supermarket, a store or even a doctor’s office, for example, someone will measure your temperature with a forehead thermometer — but will point it to your wrist. This is the crushing triumph of a fake news story that claimed infrared thermometers can damage the brain’s pineal gland.

If that’s official policy, you can imagine what goes on at home. My father, early in the pandemic, tentatively shared a video — “I wonder if it is true” — claiming that vinegar was better at stopping the virus than hand sanitizer. (I thought that at least we would be able to smell the denialists coming.) Another relative swore by gargling with salty water after attending social events because it supposedly prevents the virus from lodging in the mouth and then going down the lungs. Some Brazilians wondered whether the coronavirus could be treated with aspirin. Others avoided popping Bubble Wrap made in China, denying themselves one of life’s great pleasures, on the grounds it would release virus-ridden air.

For the past few months, rather predictably, misinformation about vaccines has proliferated: Apparently, vaccines can cause 10 types of cancer, infertility, autoimmune diseases, suicidal thoughts, heart attacks, allergic reactions, blindness and “homosexuality.” They could alter our genetic code. They come with a microchip (or nanobots) to collect our biometric data. And they are often made using the cells of aborted fetuses.

Personally, I love the claim that fully vaccinated people can connect to Wi-Fi networks or pair with Bluetooth devices — or that vaccines make people magnetic. (The proof? Videos of people sticking coins to their arms.) As a matter of fact, the word “Covid” might actually be an acronym for International Certificate of Vaccination With Artificial Intelligence. (It doesn’t work in any language.)

“It’s like choosing from which side of the flat Earth we’re going to jump off,” said Dr. Luana Araújo, an infectious diseases physician, during the parliamentary inquiry into the government’s handling of the pandemic. She could have been describing any number of our bizarre beliefs. But she was referring to our government’s persistent promotion of ineffective drugs to prevent or cure Covid-19. And that’s the core of the problem: When the president himself — with the help of the state apparatus — is consistently sharing false information about the pandemic, you can’t really expect people to be skeptical when they’re told that boldo tea can cure Covid in three hours.

In the absence of a public information campaign about the virus — there’s no need for it, Mr. Bolsonaro recently said, because “everybody knows what’s happening” — many Brazilians are forced to rely on the partial information available on social media platforms. That gives those who peddle fake news enormous power.

I often hear, for example, that vaccines and hydroxychloroquine are basically the same because neither has been scientifically proven. Mr. Bolsonaro even said it a few times. It is, of course, false. But the deception works. Recent research revealed that almost one in four Brazilians — following the example of their president, whose response to testing positive was to reach for hydroxychloroquine — took some drug “as an early treatment” for Covid-19. By comparison, only 13 percent of Brazilians are fully vaccinated.

Yet there are limits to Mr. Bolsonaro’s powers of suggestion. He might be able to make people believe in a miracle cure or lethal Bubble Wrap. But despite his best efforts, there’s one fact he cannot erase: The virus has taken the lives of over 520,000 Brazilians.

Vanessa Barbara is the editor of the literary website A Hortaliça, the author of two novels and two nonfiction books in Portuguese, and a contributing opinion writer. 

A version of this article appears in print on July 6, 2021, Section A, Page 14 of the New York edition with the headline: Miracle Cures and Killer Bubble Wrap.

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As Notícias Falsas do Brasil São Completamente Bizarras (trad.)

Posted: 7th julho 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Traduções
Tags: , , , ,
Illustration by The New York Times; Photographs via Getty/NIH

The New York Times
5 de julho de 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

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SÃO PAULO, Brasil — Hidroxicloroquina não é eficaz contra Covid-19. Não. Definitivamente não. Mas os brasileiros ainda não têm certeza. Afinal de contas, outro dia mesmo o primo de um amigo repassou uma notícia no WhatsApp dizendo que todos os leitos de U.T.I. da cidade de Miracatu estão vazios porque o prefeito adotou o “tratamento precoce” do presidente Jair Bolsonaro contra a Covid-19 – que consiste em hidroxicloroquina, ivermectina e azitromicina. Ok, é verdade que Miracatu não tem nenhum hospital. Mas ainda assim: como é que nós podemos ter certeza?

Essa é só uma entre as dezenas de notícias falsassobre tratamentos para Covid-19 que circulam nas mídias sociais do país — incluindo uma que defende a nebulização com hidroxicloroquina, a nova obsessão de Bolsonaro. Mais de um ano após o início da pandemia, as fake news ainda proliferam. É verdade que as máscaras reduzem o fluxo de oxigênio para os pulmões e podem causar câncer? Seria o novo coronavírus uma arma biológica desenvolvida pela China? E quanto ao envolvimento de Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg e George Soros? (Os checadores andam bastante ocupados.)

Mesmo hoje, depois da morte de meio milhão de cidadãos, os brasileiros continuam repassando alegações de que os hospitais estão vazios e pessoas estão sendo enterradas vivas para inflar as estatísticas do coronavírus. Ano passado, enquanto as mortes diárias disparavam, houve uma abundância de notícias falsas sobre caixões vazios e enterros simulados. É quase como se os brasileiros não conseguissem — ou não quisessem — aceitar que as coisas possam mesmo estar tão ruins e procurassem refúgio na paranoia, na desconfiança e na conspiração. Nisso, é claro, eles têm um mentor: a cada passo que deu, Bolsonaro procurou espalhar maldades e desinformação.

Talvez isso pareça familiar. Afinal de contas, as fake news e o negacionismo da Covid não seriam problemas globais? Mas há algo de especial no Brasil. Um grupo interdisciplinar de pesquisadores brasileiros descobriu que o país não só tem um dos maiores índices de notícias falsas do mundo — apenas a Índia e os Estados Unidos ostentam um número maior — como também a desinformação no Brasil está nitidamente isolada dos demais países. Isso pode representar, conforme a conclusão dos pesquisadores, “uma forte evidência de que o país está se distanciando do debate científico corrente.”

Parece correto. No Brasil, certas mentiras prevaleceram sobre o senso comum, e não há nada que possamos fazer a respeito. Por exemplo: sempre que você entra em um supermercado, em uma loja ou até em um consultório médico, alguém irá medir sua temperatura com um termômetro de testa — mas irá apontar para o seu pulso. Trata-se da vitória acachapante de uma notícia falsa que dizia que os termômetros infravermelhos podem causar danos na glândula pineal.

Se isso é política oficial, imagine o que acontece dentro de casa. Logo no começo da pandemia, meu pai compartilhou um vídeo de maneira hesitante — “será que é verdade?” — que dizia que o vinagre era melhor do que o álcool gel para combater o vírus. (Pensei que pelo menos assim seríamos capazes de sentir o cheiro dos negacionistas chegando.) Outro parente jurou pela eficácia de fazer gargarejos com água salgada após frequentar eventos sociais, pois isso supostamente impediria o vírus de se alojar na boca e então descer para os pulmões. Alguns brasileiros se perguntaram se o coronavírus podia ser tratado com aspirina. Outros evitaram estourar plástico-bolha fabricado na China, dessa forma negando a si mesmos um dos grandes prazeres da vida, pois tinham medo de estar liberando ar contaminado.

Nos últimos meses, de forma até previsível, a desinformação sobre vacinas se multiplicou. Aparentemente, as vacinas podem causar dez tipos de câncer, infertilidade, doenças autoimunes, pensamentos suicidas, ataques cardíacos, reações alérgicas, cegueira e “homossexualismo”. Elas podem alterar seu código genético. Elas vêm com um microchip (ou nanorrobôs) para coletar os nossos dados biométricos. E são geralmente feitas com as células de fetos abortados. Pessoalmente eu adoro a alegação de que pessoas plenamente imunizadas podem se conectar a redes wi-fi ou parear com dispositivos bluetooth — ou que vacinas tornam as pessoas magnéticas. (A prova? Vídeos de pessoas grudando moedas nos braços.) A bem da verdade, a palavra “Covid” pode ser uma abreviatura para “Certificado Internacional de Vacinação com Inteligência Artificial.” (Não funciona em nenhum idioma.)

“É como se a gente estivesse escolhendo de que borda da Terra Plana a gente vai pular”, disse a infectologista Luana Araújo durante a Comissão Parlamentar de Inquérito que investiga a atuação do governo na pandemia. Ela poderia estar descrevendo qualquer uma de nossas crenças bizarras. Mas se referia à persistência do nosso governo em promover drogas ineficazes para prevenir ou curar a Covid-19. E é esse o cerne do problema: quando o próprio presidente da República — com a ajuda do aparato estatal — está repetidamente propagando informações falsas sobre a pandemia, não se pode esperar que as pessoas fiquem céticas ao saber que chá de boldo é capaz de curar Covid-19 em três horas.

Na ausência de uma campanha informativa de saúde pública sobre o vírus — não há necessidade disso, segundo Bolsonaro, porque “todo mundo sabe o que está acontecendo” — muitos brasileiros se veem forçados a depender das informações tendenciosas que circulam nas mídias sociais. Isso dá um enorme poder àqueles que propagam notícias falsas.

Eu sempre escuto, por exemplo, que as vacinas e a hidroxicloroquina são basicamente iguais porque nenhuma delas possui comprovação científica. Bolsonaro chegou a repetir isso algumas vezes. Obviamente não é verdade — mas a farsa dá resultados. Uma pesquisa recente revelou que quase um em cada quatro brasileiros usou algum remédio para “tratamento precoce” contra a Covid-19, seguindo o exemplo do próprio presidente, cuja resposta diante de um teste positivo foi tomar hidroxicloroquina. Em comparação, apenas 13 por cento dos brasileiros estão completamente imunizados.

Ainda assim, há limites para os poderes de sugestão de Bolsonaro. Ele pode até fazer as pessoas acreditarem em uma cura milagrosa ou em plástico-bolha letal. Mas, a despeito de seus esforços, há um fato que ele não é capaz de apagar: o vírus tirou a vida de mais de 520 mil brasileiros.

Vanessa Barbara é a editora do sítio literário A Hortaliça, autora de dois romances e dois livros de não-ficção em português, e escritora de opinião do The New York Times. Tradução para o português da autora.

Uma versão deste artigo apareceu na edição impressa do The New York Times em 6/7/21, Section A, Page 14 com a manchete: Miracle Cures and Killer Bubble Wrap.

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The Unveiling of Bolsonaro’s Supervillain Plot Is Weirdly Gripping

Posted: 29th maio 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Artigos, New York Times
Tags: , , , , , , ,
Illustration by Nicholas Konrad/The New York Times; photograph by Andressa Anholete / Getty Images

The New York Times
May 27, 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

Leer en español

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — It’s not often that a congressional inquiry can lift your spirits. But the Brazilian Senate’s investigation into the government’s management of the pandemic, which began on April 27 and has riveted my attention for weeks, does just that.

As the pandemic continues to rage through the country, claiming around 2,000 lives a day, the inquiry offers the chance to hold President Jair Bolsonaro’s government to account. (Sort of.) It’s also a great distraction from grim reality. Livestreamed online and broadcast by TV Senado, the inquiry is a weirdly fascinating display of evasion, ineptitude and outright lies.

Here’s one example of the kind of intrigue on offer. In March last year, as the pandemic was unfurling, a social media campaign called “Brazil Can’t Stop” was launched by the president’s communications unit. Urging people not to change their routines, the campaign claimed that “coronavirus deaths among adults and young people are rare.” The heavily criticized campaign was eventually banned by a federal judge and largely forgotten.

Then the plot thickened. The government’s former communications director, Fabio Wajngarten, told the inquiry that he didn’t know “for sure” who had been responsible for the campaign. Later, stumbling over his words, he seemed to remember that his department had developed the campaign — in the spirit of experimentation, of course — which was then launched without authorization. A senator called for the arrest of Mr. Wajngarten, who threw a contemplative, almost poetic glance to the horizon. The camera even tried to zoom in. It was wild.

That’s just one episode; no wonder the inquiry holds the attention of many Brazilians. So far, we have been treated to testimony from three former health ministers — one of them had major issues with his mask, inspiring countless memes — as well as the head of Brazil’s federal health regulator, the former foreign minister, the former communications director and the regional manager of the pharmaceutical company Pfizer.

The upshot of their accounts is obvious, yet still totally outrageous: President Jair Bolsonaro apparently intended to lead the country to herd immunity by natural infection, whatever the consequences. That means — assuming a fatality rate of around 1 percent and taking 70 percent infection as a tentative threshold for herd immunity — that Mr. Bolsonaro effectively planned for at least 1.4 million deaths in Brazil. From his perspective, the 450,000 Brazilians already killed by Covid-19 must look like a job not even half-done.

Spelled out this way, the effort looks shocking. But to Brazilians living under Mr. Bolsonaro’s rule it’s hardly surprising. After all, the president seemed to do everything he could to facilitate the spread of the virus. He has spent the last year speaking and acting against all scientifically proven measures to curb the spread of the virus. Social distancing, he said, was for “idiots.” Masks were “fiction.” And vaccines can turn you into a crocodile.

Then there was the antimalarial drug hydroxychloroquine, which Mr. Bolsonaro promoted as an early treatment and miracle cure for Covid-19 — despite all scientific evidence to the contrary and the express advice of two former health ministers. During the inquiry, two different witnesses somberly confirmed that they had seen the draft of a presidential decree stipulating that the drug’s leaflet should be changed to include its use against Covid-19.

It gets worse. According to both Mr. Wajngarten and Carlos Murillo, the regional manager of Pfizer, the pharmaceutical company repeatedly offered to sell its Covid-19 vaccine to Brazil’s government between August and November last year — but got no answer at all. (Perhaps the health ministry had more important things to do, like learning how to properly use masks.) Considering that Brazil was one of the first countries to be approached by the company, a quick response would have secured Brazilians as many as 1.5 million doses at the end of 2020, with 17 million more in the first half of 2021.

Instead, after turning down another three offers the government eventually signed a contract in March, a staggering seven months after the first offer. The first one million doses arrived in late April. The rollout, as a result of the government’s negligence in securing vaccines, has been halting, with regular shortages of shots and a lack of supplies leading to delays in production.

I wonder if it was all part of the plan. When Gen. Eduardo Pazuello, Brazil’s health minister between May 2020 and March 2021, was asked why the Ministry of Health requested the lowest amount of vaccine doses from Covax, the World Health Organization’s vaccine-sharing initiative — they could have asked for enough doses to immunize as much as 50 percent of the population, but preferred to go for 10 percent — he didn’t even blink. The process, he explained airily, was too risky and the vaccines too expensive. So that’s that.

It seems ever more clear that herd immunity, through obstruction, disinformation and negligence, was always the aim. The bitter irony is that it may be impossible to attain. In Manaus, where 76 percent of the population had been infected by October, the result was not herd immunity: It was a new variant.

The inquiry, slowly and steadily, is unveiling a classic supervillain plot, at once nefarious and absurd, deadly and appalling. Whether the villain meets his comeuppance is another story.

A version of this article appears in print on May 31, 2021, Section A, Page 19 of the New York edition with the headline: Bolsonaro’s Supervillain Plot. 

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El plan de supervillano de Bolsonaro en Brasil (trad.)

Posted: 29th maio 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Traduções
Tags: , , , ,
Ilustración de Nicholas Konrad/The New York Times; fotografía de Andressa Anholete / Getty Images

Una investigación en el Senado de Brasil ha comenzado a revelar una trama fascinante y atroz sobre la respuesta del presidente ante la pandemia.

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The New York Times
28 de mayo de 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brasil — No es común que una investigación parlamentaria te levante el ánimo. Sin embargo, eso es justo lo que está logrando el análisis del Senado Federal de Brasil sobre la gestión gubernamental de la pandemia, que comenzó el 27 de abril y que ha acaparado mi atención durante semanas.

Conforme la pandemia sigue su marcha devastadora por el país, cobrando alrededor de 2000 vidas al día, la investigación ofrece la oportunidad de responsabilizar al presidente Jair Bolsonaro (hasta cierto punto). También es una magnífica distracción de la sombría realidad. Transmitida en vivo, en línea y por televisión en TV Senado, la investigación es una demostración extrañamente fascinante de evasión, ineptitud y mentiras descaradas.

He aquí un ejemplo del tipo de intriga que estamos viendo. En marzo del año pasado, mientras la pandemia se propagaba, la unidad de comunicaciones del presidente lanzó una campaña de redes sociales llamada “Brasil no puede parar”. Ese proyecto instaba a la gente a seguir con sus rutinas de siempre y afirmaba que “las muertes de coronavirus entre los adultos y los jóvenes son poco comunes”. A fin de cuentas, la tan criticada campaña fue prohibida por un juez federal y, en gran medida, pasó al olvido.

Luego la trama se complicó. El exsecretario de Comunicación del gobierno, Fabio Wajngarten, les dijo a los investigadores que no sabía “a ciencia cierta” quién había sido el responsable de la campaña. Después, con palabras entrecortadas, pareció recordar que su departamento había desarrollado la campaña —en aras de la experimentación, claro— que luego se lanzó sin autorización. Un senador solicitó el arresto de Wajngarten, quien le respondió con una mirada contemplativa, casi poética al horizonte. La cámara incluso trató de hacerle un acercamiento. Fue todo un drama.

Y ese es solo un episodio; no es de extrañar que la investigación esté llamando la atención de muchos brasileños. Hasta ahora, nos han entretenido con los testimonios de tres exministros de Salud —uno de ellos tuvo serios problemas con su mascarilla, lo cual inspiró incontables memes— así como del director de la Agencia Brasileña de Vigilancia Sanitaria, el exministro de Relaciones Exteriores, el exsecretario de Comunicación y el presidente regional de la empresa farmacéutica Pfizer.

La conclusión de sus relatos es obvia y, aun así, totalmente indignante: tal parece que el presidente Jair Bolsonaro pretendía llevar al país a la inmunidad colectiva por medio de la infección natural, sin importar las consecuencias. Eso significa que, en la práctica —suponiendo que la tasa de letalidad es de alrededor del uno por ciento y tomando una infección del 70 por ciento como el umbral tentativo para la inmunidad colectiva— Bolsonaro planeaba que hubiera al menos 1,4 millones de muertes en Brasil. Desde su perspectiva, los 450.000 brasileños que ya han muerto a causa de la COVID-19 ni siquiera son la mitad de su cometido.

Cuando se explica de esta manera, el esfuerzo parece impactante, pero para los brasileños que viven bajo el mandato de Bolsonaro no es una gran sorpresa. Después de todo, pareciera que el mandatario hizo todo lo posible para facilitar la propagación del virus. Durante el último año, se ha dedicado a pronunciarse y actuar en contra de todas las medidas comprobadas por la ciencia para frenar la transmisión del virus. Según él, el distanciamiento social era para “idiotas”. Los cubrebocas eran una “ficción”. Y las vacunas pueden convertirte en un cocodrilo.

Luego llegó el medicamento antimalárico hidroxicloroquina, que Bolsonaro promovió como un tratamiento temprano y una cura milagrosa para la COVID-19, pese a toda la evidencia científica que probaba lo contrario y las recomendaciones explícitas de dos exministros de Salud. Durante la investigación, dos testigos confirmaron con pesar que habían visto el borrador de un decreto presidencial que estipulaba que el folleto del medicamento debía cambiarse para que incluyera su uso contra la COVID-19.

Se pone peor. Según Wajngarten y Carlos Murillo, el presidente regional de la empresa farmacéutica Pfizer, le ofreció al gobierno de Brasil comprar su vacuna contra la COVID-19 en repetidas ocasiones, entre agosto y noviembre del año pasado, pero no obtuvo respuesta alguna (tal vez el ministro de Salud tenía cosas más importantes que hacer, como aprender a usar bien su cubrebocas). Si consideramos el hecho de que Brasil fue uno de los primeros países en recibir una oferta de la empresa, una respuesta rápida les habría asegurado a los brasileños hasta 1,5 millones de dosis para finales de 2020, más otros 17 millones en la primera mitad de 2021.

En cambio, tras rechazar otros tres ofrecimientos, el gobierno finalmente firmó un contrato en marzo, siete meses después de la primera oferta. El primer millón de dosis llegó a fines de abril. Como resultado de la negligencia del gobierno en la obtención garantizada de vacunas, la distribución ha sido pausada, pues la escasez constante de dosis y la falta de suministros han provocado retrasos en la producción.

Me pregunto si todo esto era parte del plan. Cuando al general Eduardo Pazuello, el ministro de Salud entre mayo de 2020 y marzo de 2021, se le preguntó por qué el Ministerio de Salud solicitó la cantidad más baja de dosis de la vacuna a COVAX, la iniciativa para el acceso equitativo a las vacunas de la Organización Mundial de la Salud —se pudieron haber pedido suficientes dosis para inmunizar hasta el 50 por ciento de la población, pero se prefirió inocular al 10 por ciento— ni siquiera parpadeó. Explicó con ligereza que el proceso era demasiado riesgoso y las vacunas demasiado costosas. Y sanseacabó.

Cada vez queda más claro que la inmunidad colectiva, mediante la obstrucción, la desinformación y la negligencia, siempre fue el objetivo del gobierno. La amarga ironía es que quizá sea imposible de alcanzar. En Manaos, donde el 76 por ciento de la población ya se había contagiado para octubre, el resultado no fue la inmunidad colectiva sino el surgimiento de una nueva variante.

A paso lento pero seguro, la investigación está revelando un clásico plan de supervillano, malvado y absurdo, y al mismo tiempo, mortal y horrible. Si al final, el villano recibe su merecido o no, es otra historia.

A version of this article appears in print on May 31, 2021, Section A, Page 19 of the New York edition with the headline: Bolsonaro’s Supervillain Plot.

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My Daughter and I Are Trapped in Brazil’s Tragedy

Posted: 24th abril 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Artigos, New York Times
Tags: , , ,
Christina Hägerfors

We spend our days watching ambulances, as Covid-19 rips through the country.

Ler em português |  Read in English

The New York Times
19 de abril de 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Op-ed Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — From the balcony of my apartment, I can see an ambulance parking lot. For over a year now, my 2½-year-old daughter and I have been monitoring — avidly, anxiously — the movements of the 10 ambulances parked there. That’s the sort of entertainment we have now.

“Look, another one is getting back!” she says, pointing at an ambulance as it stops and turns off its red-and-white lights. It’s not exactly rigorous analysis, I know, but I judge the severity of the pandemic by looking at this parking lot. Since the beginning of the year, fewer and fewer ambulances stay put. Now, during the day, it’s common to see only one or two vehicles at the lot — and never for long. Just wait awhile and away they go, sirens blaring, to answer someone’s call.

Official statistics confirm our observations. In the state of São Paulo, where I live along with 46 million others, the rate of Covid-19 hospitalizations more than doubled in the four weeks from Feb. 21 to March 21. At the beginning of April, an average of 3,025 people were being admitted daily to a hospital — a rise of 58 percent from the start of the previous month. I try to explain to my daughter, in a lighthearted way, that these ambulances are transporting sick people to the hospital, where they are going to take some fruit-flavored medicine and get better very quickly.

Looking at that incessant parade of ambulances, I try not to sound desperate. I try to keep from my voice the knowledge that 543 people have died waiting for a hospital bed since the end of February in São Paulo alone, that across the country over 370,000 people have lost their lives — and that the worst may be yet to come. (After all, in the Southern Hemisphere, winter is just around the corner.) But I can’t hide the impotence and anger I feel, trapped in a small apartment for who knows how much longer, watching the tragedy unfold.

There was one glorious intermission, though. In early February, my husband and I enrolled our daughter in a private school with plenty of trees and fresh air. The classrooms are spacious and airy, and many lessons are held outdoors. I’ve never seen her so happy. Her social and emotional development soared. She sang randomly and chatted about her new friends.

But in early March, she tested positive for the coronavirus. She had mild symptoms: low fever, a runny nose, a cough. We gave her 14 drops of acetaminophen, which she doesn’t love, once every six hours, for three days. She dutifully complied. Her classmates and teachers also entered a 14-day isolation, although nobody else tested positive. She quickly recovered; my husband and I tested negative. We couldn’t trace the source of her illness, though we assume it must have been someone at the school. “An immaculate infection!” my husband joked.

By the time our quarantine ended, in mid-March, São Paulo’s governor had declared a state of emergency, closing all schools. The virus was ripping through the country, claiming a record number of lives. A friend of mine who works as a nurse said that it was now common to see a traffic jam of ambulances in front of hospitals. Outside our apartment, the parking lot was bustling.

It was an entirely foreseeable escalation. Since the virus reached Brazil in March last year, we’ve never really had a proper lockdown, regionally or nationally. While state governors and city mayors have tried to institute some restrictions, President Jair Bolsonaro has consistently advocated the free circulation of people — and, consequently, the virus.

The results could not be starker: There are on average around 3,000 deaths per day, a staggering number spurred by a new, more contagious variant of the coronavirus. Of daily Covid-19 deaths worldwide, Brazil currently accounts for almost a third. In dozens of states, I.C.U.s are 90 percent or more full. Calamity doesn’t begin to cover it.

The vaccination rollout, chaotic at first, is still slow. My 72-year-old father finally received his second dose 10 days ago; my 67-year-old mother just got her first shot last week. Only 4.5 percent of the population is fully immunized, compared with 25 percent in the United States. Our public health system is capable of doing much more, but we simply don’t have enough vaccines. We shall never forget that last year Mr. Bolsonaro’s government turned down an offer of 70 million vaccine doses from Pfizer.

Many other countries are beginning to emerge from the crisis, while ours plunges ever deeper into catastrophe. But Mr. Bolsonaro — who has actively discouraged social distancing, tests and vaccines — couldn’t care less. “Enough fussing and whining,” he said in March. “How much longer will the crying go on?”

Without the vaccines or political will to curb the virus, we don’t have many options left. We can’t take to the streets to protest — at least not without a high risk of infection — and the next election is a year and a half away. More than 370,000 Brazilians are gone forever. As for the rest of us, we continue to live as prisoners in our own homes, watching the ambulances go by.

A version of this article appears in print on April 20, 2021, Section A, Page 25 of the New York edition with the headline: “Trapped in Brazil’s Covid Tragedy”.

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Minha filha e eu estamos presas na tragédia do Brasil (trad.)

Posted: 24th abril 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Traduções
Tags: , , , , , ,
Christina Hägerfors

Passamos os dias vendo ambulâncias enquanto a Covid-19 assola o país.

Leer en español | Read in English

The New York Times
21 de abril de 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — Da varanda do meu apartamento, consigo enxergar um estacionamento de ambulâncias. Já faz mais de um ano que eu e minha filha de 2 anos e meio monitoramos – de forma ávida e ansiosa – o movimento das dez ambulâncias estacionadas no local. É o tipo de entretenimento que temos hoje em dia.

“Olha, mais uma está voltando!”, ela diz, apontando para a ambulância, que encosta e desliga suas luzes vermelhas e brancas. Não é bem uma análise rigorosa, eu sei, mas costumo avaliar a severidade da pandemia olhando para esse estacionamento. Desde o começo do ano, cada vez menos veículos ficam parados. Agora, durante o dia, é comum ver só uma ou duas ambulâncias no local —e nunca por muito tempo. Basta esperar um pouco e lá vão elas, com as sirenes ligadas, atender ao chamado de alguém.

As estatísticas oficiais confirmam nossas observações. No estado de São Paulo, onde vivemos entre outras 46 milhões de pessoas, a taxa de internações por Covid-19 mais do que dobrou nas quatro semanas de 21 de fevereiro a 21 de março. No início de abril, em média 3.025 pessoas foram internadas por dia nos hospitais —um aumento de 58 por cento com relação ao início do mês anterior. Eu tento explicar à minha filha, de uma forma leve, que essas ambulâncias estão transportando pessoas doentes ao hospital, onde elas irão tomar um remédio de frutas e logo irão melhorar.

Olhando para esse desfile incessante de ambulâncias, eu tento não soar desesperada. Procuro disfarçar do meu tom de voz o conhecimento de que 543 pessoas morreram esperando por um leito de hospital desde o fim de fevereiro só em São Paulo, que no país mais de 370 mil pessoas perderam a vida —e que o pior ainda pode estar por vir. (Afinal, no hemisfério sul, o inverno vem chegando.) Mas não consigo esconder a impotência e a raiva que sinto, presa num apartamento pequeno por sabe-se lá mais quanto tempo, assistindo ao desenrolar da tragédia.

Houve um glorioso intervalo, porém. No início de fevereiro, meu marido e eu inscrevemos nossa filha em uma escola particular com muitas árvores e ar fresco. As salas são espaçosas e arejadas, e inúmeras aulas acontecem ao ar livre. Nunca a vi tão feliz. Seu desenvolvimento social e emocional disparou. Ela cantava aleatoriamente e tagarelava sobre os novos amigos.

Contudo, no início de março, ela testou positivo para o coronavírus. Teve sintomas leves: febre baixa, nariz escorrendo, tosse. Demos a ela 14 gotas de paracetamol, de que ela não gosta muito, uma vez a cada seis horas, por três dias. Ela aceitou obedientemente. Seus colegas de classe e professores também entraram em um isolamento de 14 dias, embora mais ninguém tenha testado positivo. Ela se recuperou rapidamente; eu e meu marido testamos negativo. Não conseguimos rastrear a origem de sua doença, mas assumimos que deve ter sido alguém da escola. “Uma imaculada infecção!”, brincou o meu marido.

Quando nossa quarentena acabou, em meados de março, o governador de São Paulo declarou estado de emergência, fechando todas as escolas. O vírus já devastava o país, arrebatando um número inédito de vidas. Um amigo meu que trabalha como enfermeiro disse que se tornou comum ver um congestionamento de ambulâncias diante dos hospitais. Do lado de fora do nosso apartamento, o estacionamento estava movimentado.

Foi um agravamento totalmente previsível. Desde que o vírus chegou ao Brasil, em março do ano passado, não chegamos a ter um lockdown propriamente dito, em nível regional ou nacional. Enquanto governadores e prefeitos tentavam impor algumas restrições, o presidente Jair Bolsonaro defendia sistematicamente a livre circulação de pessoas – e, consequentemente, do vírus.

Os resultados não podiam ser mais nítidos: temos, em média, 3 mil mortes por dia, um número espantoso que foi impulsionado por uma variante nova e mais contagiosa do coronavírus. O Brasil atualmente responde por quase um terço das mortes diárias por Covid-19 no mundo. Em dezenas de estados, as UTIs estão com 90 por cento ou mais de ocupação. O termo “calamidade” nem chega perto de descrever a situação.

A campanha de vacinação, a princípio caótica, permanece lenta. Meu pai de 72 anos finalmente recebeu a segunda dose há dez dias; minha mãe, de 67 anos, recebeu a primeira dose na semana passada. Apenas 4,5 por cento da população está totalmente imunizada, em comparação a 25 por cento nos Estados Unidos. Nosso sistema público de saúde é capaz de fazer muito melhor, mas simplesmente não temos vacinas suficientes. Jamais esqueceremos que, no ano passado, o governo de Bolsonaro rejeitou uma oferta de 70 milhões de doses do imunizante da Pfizer.

Muitos outros países já começam a sair da crise, enquanto o nosso mergulha ainda mais fundo na catástrofe. Mas Bolsonaro – que desencorajou ativamente o distanciamento social, os testes e as vacinas – não dá a mínima. “Chega de frescura, de mimimi”, ele disse em março. “Vão ficar chorando até quando?”

Sem vacinas ou vontade política para conter o vírus, não nos restam muitas opções. Não podemos ir às ruas protestar – não sem um alto risco de infecção – e ainda temos um ano e meio até a próxima eleição. Mais de 370 mil brasileiros se foram. Quanto ao resto de nós, continuamos a viver como prisioneiros em nossas casas, vendo as ambulâncias passarem.

Este artigo foi publicado na edição de 20 de abril de 2021 do The New York Times, Section A, Page 25 com o título: “Trapped in Brazil’s Covid Tragedy”. Tradução para o português da autora.

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Mi hija y yo estamos atrapadas en la tragedia de Brasil (trad.)

Posted: 24th abril 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Traduções
Tags: , ,
Christina Hägerfors

Pasamos los días viendo ambulancias, mientras la COVID-19 arrasa con el país.

Read in English | Ler em português

The New York Times
21 de abril de 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brasil — Desde el balcón de mi apartamento puedo ver un estacionamiento de ambulancias. Durante más de un año, mi hija de 2 años y medio y yo hemos monitoreado —de manera ávida y ansiosa— los movimientos de las diez ambulancias que están estacionadas ahí. Es el tipo de entretenimiento que tenemos ahora.

“¡Mira, otra está regresando!”, me dice, apuntando hacia una ambulancia que se detiene y apaga sus luces rojas y blancas. No es un análisis exactamente riguroso, lo sé, pero juzgo la gravedad de la pandemia observando este estacionamiento. Desde inicios del año, cada vez menos ambulancias permanecen inmóviles. Ahora, durante el día, es común ver tan solo uno o dos vehículos en el estacionamiento y nunca están mucho tiempo. Tan solo esperan un momento y se marchan de inmediato, resonando sus sirenas, para responder la llamada de alguien.

Las estadísticas oficiales confirman nuestras observaciones. En el estado de São Paulo, donde vivo con otros 46 millones de personas, la tasa de hospitalizaciones por la COVID-19 aumentó a más del doble en las cuatro semanas del 21 de febrero al 21 de marzo. A inicios de abril, fueron internadas en hospitales un promedio de 3025 personas al día, un incremento del 58 por ciento en comparación con el comienzo del mes anterior. Intento explicarle a mi hija, de una manera alegre, que esas ambulancias están transportando gente enferma al hospital, donde les van a dar una medicina sabor a frutas y se van a aliviar muy rápido.

Cuando veo el desfile incesante de ambulancias, intento no sonar desesperada. Intento evitar que mi voz diga todo lo que sé de las 543 personas que han muerto desde finales de febrero tan solo en São Paulo mientras esperaban una cama de hospital, de las más de 370.000 personas que han perdido la vida en todo el país… y de que tal vez falte lo peor. (Después de todo, en el hemisferio sur, el invierno está a la vuelta de la esquina). Sin embargo, no puedo ocultar la impotencia y el enojo que siento, atrapada en un pequeño apartamento durante quién sabe cuánto tiempo, viendo cómo se desencadena la tragedia.

No obstante, hubo un glorioso intermedio. A inicios de febrero, mi esposo y yo inscribimos a nuestra hija en una escuela privada con muchos árboles y aire limpio. Los salones de clase son amplios y ventilados, y hay muchas clases al aire libre. Nunca la había visto tan feliz. Su desarrollo social y emocional se elevaron como la espuma. Cantaba sin ningún motivo aparente y conversaba sobre sus nuevos amigos.

Sin embargo, a inicios de marzo, mi hija dio positivo por coronavirus. Tuvo síntomas leves: fiebre baja, moqueo nasal, tos. Le dimos catorce gotas de acetaminofén una vez cada seis horas durante tres días, lo cual no le encantó, pero obedeció responsablemente. Sus compañeros y maestros también estuvieron catorce días aislados, aunque ninguno dio positivo. Se recuperó con rapidez; mi marido y yo dimos negativo. No pudimos rastrear la fuente de la enfermedad, aunque supusimos que debió ser alguien de la escuela. “¡Una infección inmaculada!”, bromeaba mi esposo.

Para cuando terminó nuestra cuarentena, a mediados de marzo, el gobernador de São Paulo había declarado un estado de emergencia y había cerrado todas las escuelas. El virus estaba arrasando el país y cobrando una cifra récord de vidas. Una amiga que trabaja de enfermera me comentó que ahora era común ver tráfico de ambulancias enfrente de los hospitales. Afuera de nuestro apartamento, el estacionamiento estaba a reventar.

Fue un incremento que se veía venir a todas luces. Desde que el virus llegó a Brasil el año pasado, en realidad, nunca hemos tenido un cierre de emergencia como tal, ni a nivel regional ni nacional. Aunque los gobernadores estatales y los alcaldes de las ciudades han intentado instituir algunas restricciones, el presidente Jair Bolsonaro no ha dejado de defender la libre circulación de la gente… y, en consecuencia, del virus.

El resultado no podría ser más crudo: en promedio, hay más o menos 3000 muertes al día, una cantidad impactante a causa de una nueva variante más contagiosa del coronavirus. De las muertes diarias por la COVID-19 a nivel mundial, en este momento, Brasil representa casi una tercera parte. En decenas de estados, las salas de cuidados intensivos están al 90 por ciento de su capacidad o más. La palabra calamidad se queda corta para describir la situación.

La distribución de vacunas, caótica al principio, sigue siendo lenta. Mi padre de 72 años por fin recibió su segunda dosis hace diez días; mi madre de 67 años acaba de ponerse la primera dosis la semana pasada. Tan solo el 4,5 por ciento de la población está completamente inmunizada, en comparación con el 25 por ciento de Estados Unidos. Nuestro sistema de salud pública es capaz de hacer mucho más, pero simplemente no tenemos las vacunas necesarias. Nunca debemos olvidar que el año pasado el gobierno de Bolsonaro rechazó una oferta de 70 millones de dosis de la vacuna de Pfizer.

Muchos otros países están empezando a salir de la crisis, mientras que el nuestro se hunde cada vez más en la catástrofe. No obstante, a Bolsonaro —quien ha sido contundente al desalentar el distanciamiento social, las pruebas y las vacunas— no le podría importar menos. “Ya basta de preocuparse y chillar”, dijo en marzo. “¿Cuánto más seguirá el llanto?”.

Sin las vacunas ni la voluntad política para detener el virus, no nos quedan muchas opciones. No podemos tomar las calles para protestar —al menos no sin un alto riesgo de infección— y las próximas elecciones son dentro de un año y medio. Más de 370.000 brasileños se fueron para no volver. En cuanto al resto de nosotros, seguimos viviendo como prisioneros en nuestras propias casas, mientras vemos las ambulancias pasar.

Vanessa Barbara es editora del sitio web literario A Hortaliça, autora de dos novelas y dos libros de no ficción en portugués, y colaboradora de Opinión.

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Brazil Is Brilliant at Vaccinations. So What Went Wrong This Time?

Posted: 7th março 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Artigos, New York Times
Tags: , , , , , ,
Vaccinating over 210 million people may sound daunting, but for Brazil it really shouldn’t be. Credit: Bruno Kelly/Reuters

It’s not hard to work out who to blame for the country’s disastrous vaccine rollout.

The New York Times
Feb. 28, 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Op-ed Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — When it comes to Covid-19 vaccination programs, there are some countries that have exceeded expectations and others that have fallen surprisingly short. And then there is Brazil.

Vaccinating over 210 million people may sound daunting, but for Brazil it really shouldn’t be. With one of the largest universal, free-of-charge public health systems in the world, the country has a distinguished track record of vaccinations and disease control. The National Immunization Program, founded in 1973, helped to eradicate polio and rubella in the country and currently offers more than 20 vaccines free in every municipality.

Along with the infrastructure to distribute vaccines, there’s also the expertise to do so: In 1980, the country vaccinated 17.5 million children against polio in a single day. In 2010, over 89 million doses of the swine flu vaccine were administered in under four months. And last year, more than 70 million Brazilians received their annual shot against influenza.

We take immunization so seriously here that we even have a mascot for vaccination campaigns, an adorable six-foot smiling white blob named “Zé Gotinha,” Joe Droplet. (This glorious national hero apparently refused to shake hands with President Jair Bolsonaro during an official event in December.)

But despite these advantages, Brazil’s vaccine rollout has been painfully slow, inconsistent and marred by shortages. The nationwide program began on Jan. 18, later than over 50 countries, and at its current rate will take more than four years to complete. Several major cities, such as Rio de Janeiro and Salvador, have already had to stop their campaigns because of problems in supply.

In a country where the pandemic has wrought terrible damage — 250,000 people have died, the second-highest total in the world, after the United States, as cities along the Amazon River like Manaus have been abandoned to their fate — the failure amounts to a disaster.

So what went wrong? Perhaps we should look to Joe Droplet: He seems to know exactly who to blame.

From the beginning, Mr. Bolsonaro’s government downplayed the seriousness of the pandemic. The president fought against masks and social distancing measures, comparing the coronavirus to rain that would fall on most people while drowning just some of them. (“It’s no use staying home crying,” he recently said, after the country registered 1,452 deaths on a single day.) In the middle of the outbreak, he managed to get rid of two health ministers — both doctors — who threatened to contradict him, replacing them with an army general.

What’s more, not only did Mr. Bolsonaro spend emergency funds to purchase and distribute unproven drugs against Covid-19, even after they had been shown to be ineffective, he also refused many offers of vaccine doses. In August, Pfizer offered Brazil 70 million doses, with delivery starting in December — but the government was not interested. The company made two other proposals, to no avail.

When pressed for an explanation, Brazil’s Health Ministry claimed that the terms of the contract — the same that applied to all countries — were “abusive.” Pfizer, Mr. Bolsonaro complained, wouldn’t take responsibility “if you turn into Superman, if a woman grows a beard or a man starts to talk with a high-pitched voice.” Instead, he kept up his efforts to discredit vaccination, promoting an imaginary “early treatment” for Covid-19.

Mr. Bolsonaro even found time to oppose a proposal, brought to the World Health Organization by India and South Africa, to temporarily lift patent restrictions on coronavirus vaccines. Allowing developing countries — including Brazil — to manufacture vaccines sooner and at much greater scale apparently held no interest.

Eventually the federal government, under public pressure, started to plan a vaccination program. But it focused on a single manufacturer, AstraZeneca, whose vaccine trials ended up taking longer than others. Other difficulties surfaced later. After the approval of the vaccine in January, there was a shipment delay. And the flight bearing two million doses from India was postponed for a week.

Mr. Bolsonaro also spent months attacking the other vaccine now available in Brazil — CoronaVac, developed by the Chinese company Sinovac — because it had been backed by São Paulo’s governor, a political rival and likely competitor in the 2022 presidential race. (Mr. Bolsonaro even celebrated the death of a participant in the CoronaVac trial, later deemed to be unrelated to the vaccine.)

When the AstraZeneca vaccine failed to materialize quickly, Mr. Bolsonaro had to turn to the supply of the CoronaVac that São Paulo’s governor had managed to amass. There were no words of thanks.

Brazil is now gradually expanding local production, while more doses are on their way from India and the Covax Facility, a global vaccine distribution program. But everything is happening in slow motion. Two million doses now, four million a month later.

The shortage of vaccines at least conceals the fact that the government probably hadn’t secured enough syringes to administer them. Truly, it’s little wonder that the government’s handling of the pandemic was judged by the Lowy Institute, a research institute in Australia, to be the worst in the world.

Mr. Bolsonaro, through ineptitude and malice, has squandered the country’s resources to ruinous effect. Joe Droplet was right to ignore him. If only the rest of us could, too.

Vanessa Barbara is the editor of the literary website A Hortaliça, the author of two novels and two nonfiction books in Portuguese, and a contributing opinion writer. 

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I Can’t Believe I Need to Say This, but We Need Schools More Than Bars

Posted: 27th janeiro 2021 by Vanessa Barbara in Artigos, New York Times
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An empty classroom in São Paulo, Brazil. Credit: Mauricio Lima for The New York Times

What we’re facing in Brazil is an educational catastrophe

The New York Times
Jan. 25, 2021

by Vanessa Barbara
Contributing Opinion Op-ed Writer

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — For almost 10 months now, around 35 million Brazilian children have been out of school. When schools were closed in March, at the beginning of the pandemic, I thought we only had to be a little patient. As soon as we got the virus under control, they would be the first to reopen, right?

Wrong. Brazil hasn’t come close to controlling the pandemic: In the absence of national lockdowns and comprehensive mass testing, the daily death toll has remained constantly high. The most we got — beyond President Jair Bolsonaro’s brazen denials that anything was wrong — were a few restrictions applied here and there by local governments.

Then as early as June, regional governors — hoping to mitigate the bleakness of the situation — thought it a good idea to slowly reopen the institutions that were most important to us: shopping centers, restaurants, bars, gyms, beauty salons, movie theaters, concert halls, even betting shops. Pretty much everything, it seemed, except for schools. And so it has mostly stayed.

On public health grounds, this made no sense. As people resumed their cardio workouts and hair-dying habits, the virus continued to spread. And in response, teachers refused to return to schools while the risks were so high. (I don’t blame them.) But surely our leaders wouldn’t just cast children aside — they would have a plan for a gradual reopening, right?

A crowded bar in the bohemian neighborhood of Vila Madalena, in São Paulo. While schools are closed, nonessential businesses like bars, gyms and beauty salons are open. Mauricio Lima for The New York Times

Wrong again! Ten months since schools were shuttered, everything is roughly as it was. In Brazil, bizarrely, bars have been deemed more important than schools, manicures of greater social significance than children’s mental health. Most parents feel abandoned, forced to take on an intolerable burden with no support. And an entire generation of children, their development dangerously stalled, have been left to their own devices.

The results have been dreadful. Many Brazilian students are currently receiving some version of remote learning — but only those who have the means to do so. Roughly 25 percent of students from public schools don’t have access to the internet, according to one estimate. Other research found that close to a third of caregivers were concerned that their kids would drop out of school altogether.

Antônio Mello Lins, a 15-year-old high school student, at home in São Paulo. He has been able to take online classes from home since schools were closed in March. Credit: Mauricio Lima for The New York Times

That’s not surprising. It’s hard to overemphasize the positive impact of in-person learning, which goes far beyond reading and writing to include children’s physical and mental health, nutrition, safety and social skills. In its absence, pediatricians have reported a worrying rise in depression, anxiety, sleep disorders and aggressive behavior among their patients.

And in a country as unequal as ours, this interruption is especially devastating. While in many cities private schools, sufficiently solvent to adapt their buildings, have been authorized to partially reopen for in-person classes, public schools — often, like the nursery my 2-year-old attended until March, small, unventilated and crowded — have mostly remained closed. The poorer the child, the greater the damage of school closure. (In more ways than one: At least seven million children could be going hungry at home, without access to school lunches.)

All in all, according to a November report by the UNICEF, children in Latin America and the Caribbean have lost on average four times more days of schooling compared with the rest of the world. Most students are now at risk of missing out on an entire school year. For younger children, most affected by the lack of socialization, it’s an especially big blow. There simply aren’t enough studies to measure the size of the educational catastrophe we’re facing here.

Paulo Henrique Lima, 8, right, and Renato Oliveira Ferreira, 11, outside their home in a low-income neighborhood of São Paulo. Neither have computers or internet at home, but they have been taking a daily 90-minute educational TV class provided by the local government. Credit: Mauricio Lima for The New York Times

I wish I had an easy solution for this tragedy, for the sake of our children. (Hey! What about turning all the bars into schools? Just picture it: teachers instead of waiters, children at the tables. We could put milk in beer kegs!) But there’s no straightforward fix. Though many scientific studies show that children don’t appear to be exposed to higher risks of coronavirus infection in schools and that school staff, compared with the general adult population, aren’t at a higher risk either, that depends on having community transmission rates under control and mitigation measures in place.

But in Brazil, where the second wave has crashed on the top of the first one — on Jan. 7, the country reached the mark of 200,000 Covid-19 deaths — and schools often lack the basic infrastructure to institute public health measures, those conditions are clearly not present.

A closed school in São Paulo. Credit: Mauricio Lima for The New York Times

Some governors and mayors recently announced their intention to open schools in February or March, no matter what. But teachers are now refusing to go back to in-person classes until they are vaccinated. The trouble is Brazil still doesn’t have a solid national immunization plan. Judging from the chaotic, inchoate rollout so far, amid the appearance of two new variants of the virus, it could take months to vaccinate all school workers.

But doing nothing is not an option. So here are three suggestions. First, we need — right away — to increase public school funding and put in place a comprehensive plan to reform school buildings. (Many Brazilian cities could actually set up open-air schools all year long; we live in a tropical country, after all.) Second, we need to give teachers and school staff early access to vaccination, once frontline health personnel and high-risk populations are vaccinated.

And third, we need to do something especially courageous: We should call for the closure of all nonessential services until schools are safe enough to reopen. It might not be immediately popular — people may miss their foot baths to the point of anguish — but for the well-being and future of our country’s children, it is essential.

There is an alternative, of course. Kids will have to expropriate all bars. And beauty salons. And betting shops.

Vanessa Barbara is the editor of the literary website A Hortaliça, the author of two novels and two nonfiction books in Portuguese, and a contributing opinion writer.

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