Hunger vs. Abundance – Folha de S. Paulo, April 25, 1983

by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira

While I do not dispute Goya’s undeniable talent — not even a little — I find most of his paintings unappealing. In them, the artist tends to belittle, vilify, and mock, which I strongly dislike. Take the famous portrait by Goya of Charles IV, King of Spain, his wife, Queen Marie Louise, and other royal family members. One could argue that each figure looks like a nightmare of vanity and foolishness.

I tend to believe that Goya painted them exactly as they were. Do I then question the truth? No, I question the malicious satisfaction he seems to get from the fact that his subjects were like that.

I mentioned Goya only to recall a small painting of his that I greatly admired at the Prado Museum in Madrid. It was titled “Panic.” It depicted, from behind, a chaotic military unit fleeing in disarray. The terror gripping each soldier caused a vapor to seem to rise above their helmets. These thousands of vapors fused into one enormous form, from which a ghostly figure emerged—a specter with only its powerful, brutal, and threatening torso visible. It was Panic itself, driving the defeated soldiers crazy and speeding up their stampede.

I was reminded of that painting when, from the 4th to the 8th of this month, I felt my São Paulo—so orderly, so bustling—suddenly enveloped in an immense current that, in true Goyaesque fashion, seemed to emanate from stunned minds torn between indignation and anguish, minds bracing for the worst at every moment.

What might this imaginary figure be? As my sensibility “saw” it, it was a hybrid being forged from hunger and dread—the hunger of the have-nots rising like a specter, filling the haves with dread. Was this a fantasy or reality seen in its deepest form?

The truth is, if this situation—experienced by the entire city of São Paulo—had lasted just a few more days, the ruling and middle classes would have become destabilized, and the social structure would have fallen apart.

Who released this specter? I blame two main factors: a poorly planned conspiracy that, after the initial shock, wasn’t taken seriously by our lively and perceptive people; and our usual ignorance of the country’s real problems.

I have already addressed in this newspaper the widespread lack of understanding among our average voters regarding the country’s economic and financial issues.

From the 4th to the 8th, our ignorance showed itself in another key area: hunger.

In Brazil’s wealthiest city, the threat of hunger loomed large, as if São Paulo were just a small center of rich neighborhoods surrounded, as far as the eye could see, by starving and angry slums. It seemed, for a moment, as if the slums were swallowing the core. But once the wave of robberies eased, it became clear that these supposed hungry masses were actually well-organized gangs that had long enjoyed absolute impunity (and there is no exaggeration in stressing this). These so-called hungry people were indeed hungry—hungry for jewelry, which drove them to ransack every small, mid-range, or modest jewelry store they came across. Hungry for televisions, radios, cameras, and everything sold in optical stores. Hungry, in short, for leather goods: fine shoes, handbags, briefcases, and belts.

The truly needy’s hunger—whether for food, medicine, or warm clothes—barely registered.

In front of many homes they raided, the “hungry” tossed aside whatever they couldn’t carry onto the sidewalk. Nearly all passersby—even in modest neighborhoods—walked past without touching a thing. “Hunger”…

As far as I know, given all this, nobody has ever thought to ask exactly how many hungry people are in São Paulo or why they are suffering from hunger.

As I write this, some demagogue may shout with hatred: “What about the unemployed?” What is an unemployed person? An unemployed person is not just someone who has lost their job, but also someone who cannot find another one. And why can’t those who no longer work in factories find jobs?

In a statement to Folha de S. Paulo (April 3, 1983), Cardinal Paulo Arns— with whom I find myself in a sad and broad disagreement—correctly suggested that this surplus labor be directed toward state-owned vacant lands, a solution I had already supported in Agrarian Reform – A Question of Conscience (pp. 10, 115, 127, 157, 185, and 219), the book I published in 1960 along with Bishops Geraldo Sigaud and Castro Mayer and the economist Luiz Mendonça de Freitas.

Since then, what has been done in São Paulo about this? I believe no one knows. And what has been done to face the threat of the current recession? Again, no one knows. Politicians, socioeconomic commentators, self-proclaimed experts, and generally inauthentic theologians have all started debating whether the socioeconomic system should be reformed to help the unemployed. But is it really worth reshaping Brazil just for this? Would it not have been much more practical to survey the empty lands and take firm action so that, at the first signs of rising unemployment, its victims could immediately go and plant food there for themselves and for us?

Instead, there was technical dithering, empty talk, and political maneuvering. A backroom deal was made. That deal created a spectacle—an ominous one now threatening to destabilize São Paulo, and with it, Brazil…

Hunger? Who among us truly knows what hunger is? I looked up the term in six excellent Portuguese dictionaries, and they all define it as deprivation. But at what exact point does deprivation start for someone living in São Paulo today? Doesn’t it vary from person to person, influenced partly by racial background? And in this working-class São Paulo—this mosaic of races—is it really possible to set a single, universal threshold of “deprivation” for everyone?

I just mentioned the unemployed a moment ago. Now, I want to talk about those who have jobs. How many of them actually suffer from health issues because they don’t get enough food?

When a group of anonymous instigators tries to throw a city like São Paulo into chaos over fear of famine, they can do so freely because no one is immune to Rumor; ordinary people are unaware of anything that can protect them from subversion’s lies.

However, one thing can be said with certainty: in São Paulo’s obituaries, hunger plays a much smaller role than abundance. How few—if any—among us have died from want; how many, by contrast, succumb to excess. I vaguely recall a line from a Greek author whose name I’ve forgotten: the table kills more people than war…

Is hunger really the main cause of death among São Paulo residents?