No Cheers for the Heroes

When the Brazilian army ousted leftist President Joao Goulart and rescued the country from the edge of chaos in 1964, joyful crowds danced in the streets of Rio de Janeiro and hailed the soldiers as their heroes. Last week, as Brazil marked the fifth anniversary of the army's revolution, the only celebrations were those staged by the military, and the only praise came from the generals themselves.

Close Supervision. Even that praise was well measured. Aware of his government's unpopularity, Marshal turned President Arthur da Costa e Silva divided his lengthy televised anniversary address to the nation into four one-hour installments that were shown on successive evenings. Purpose: to avoid annoying the viewing public by interfering with their favorite evening soap operas. The presidential prudence reflected the reality that though military rule has brought unprecedented growth and prosperity, the mood of Latin America's most populous country is one of resentment and unease.

Unlike old-style Latin American dictators, Brazil's rulers are neither brutal nor bent on building up personal fortunes. Nonetheless, they have imposed on Brazil a strict rule that recently has grown more repressive. At present, congress is "in recess," unions are forbidden to strike, and virtually all leading politicians are banned from participation in public life. The press and television are closely supervised. Dozens of Brazilians are in jail on unspecified political charges. Costa e Silva recently broadened the list of offenses punishable by jail sentences to include even talking or writing in terms that have a hidden meaning--an attempt to halt the double-entendres that Brazilian politicians, journalists and the people at large delight in using to ridicule military men. The atmosphere of intimidation is so great that only the Catholic Church dares to speak out in public. In a recent protest, the bishops denounced the "violation of fundamental rights" and called for a return to democratic rule.

Such heavy-handed government actions cancel out the satisfactions that Brazilians might otherwise feel about the country's remarkable economic revival.

Though problems of poverty and illiteracy still abound, the army-backed government has succeeded in containing Brazil's worst economic enemy, inflation, which previously ate up wages before they could be spent. Now, tough monetary policies have cut the inflationary rate from 87% in 1964 to an almost bearable 24% last year, and the situation continues to improve.

As a result of returning business confidence and pump-priming government programs, thousands of new jobs are being created by a thriving construction industry, new shipyards, and auto plants that this year will turn out 450,000 cars and trucks.

Mutual Antagonism. Army engineers are laying new highways--well posted with signs saying "The Army Builds"--that are opening up previously inaccessible farmlands. The country's agriculture, long overly dependent on coffee, is being diversified with other crops. Brazil's impoverished Northeast is receiving record amounts of government aid and private investment.

In a way, Brazil's economic growth has only increased the present mutual antagonism of civilians and the military. The stability has strengthened the conviction of many army men that they alone know how to run the country and that the people should follow their lead without complaint. Yet, as the country grows economically healthier, many Brazilians, notably the students and intelligentsia, see less and less excuse for the soldiers to remain in power.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.