Are we accomplices?

What kind of stock are human beings made of? 

This is what I've been wondering for a long time. 

Getúlio Vargas was the longest-serving president in Brazilian history – whether as the leader of a (supposedly) anti-oligarchic revolutionary movement from 1930; as the dictator of the Estado Novo, with fascist sympathies, from 1937 to 1945; or as president elected by the organized working class, from 1950 until his fateful suicide by shooting himself in the heart on August 24, 1954. (Even if he is re-elected for a fourth term in 2026, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva will not be able to surpass Vargas's longevity in power.) 

Born in São Borja, Rio Grande do Sul, the rancher Getúlio Vargas knew how to maneuver to the right, like the mother of the rich, and to the left, like the father of the poor. To a great extent, Vargas's ideology is intertwined with Brazilian laborism and national-developmentalism, as he was the creator of both our basic industry, through the Companhia Siderúrgica Nacional (CSN), and the largest company in Brazil (and one of the largest companies in the world), Petrobras. Furthermore, Vargas's ideology spearheaded the Consolidation of Labor Laws (CLT) and the implementation of the Ministry of Labor, fundamental milestones for the economic and social dignity of the working class in the country. On numerous occasions, the reformist Workers' Party (PT) praised the modernizing impetus of Getúlio Vargas, a statesman who sought to project Brazil as a great power in the concert of nations. Nevertheless, Getúlio Vargas was at the forefront of one of the most tragic (and entirely avoidable) crimes in Brazilian history in the mid-20th century.

Deeply anti-communist, Vargas saw in Luís Carlos Prestes, the former leader of the famous Prestes Column, who had defied regional oligarchies and the Armed Forces for many years, a fierce adversary dangerously converted to the Kremlin's red creed. According to Vargas's Machiavellian logic, Prestes had to be imprisoned. But before that, the Vargas regime ordered the deportation to Nazi Germany of one of its political prisoners, the German communist Olga Benário, Prestes's wife. 

It's worth noting that Olga was Jewish. 

When she was taken captive aboard the German freighter La Coruña, Olga was seven months pregnant. The humanitarian outcry surrounding the situation fueled the ship's own indignation, even though he appealed, in vain, to the principles of International Maritime Law. 

In the port of Southampton, in southern England, English communists attempted to rescue Olga Benário from the clutches of Hitlerism, but the well-informed (and very democratic) agents of the English Secret Service (in collusion with the Gestapo?) prevented the success of the humanitarian and humanist kidnapping. On October 18, 1936, the La Coruña docked in Germany. 

On April 23, 1942, the communist Olga Benário Prestes was murdered in a gas chamber at the Bernburg concentration camp in north-central Germany, along with 199 other prisoners. At the time, it had been almost a year since the Ribbentrop-Molotov non-aggression pact, signed between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, had been violated, since in June 1941 Hitler had launched Operation Barbarossa, which aimed to wipe communists off the map and, according to his own words, "turn Moscow into a dam." 

During World War II (1939-1945), the Vargas government – ​​that is, the right-wing dictatorship of the Estado Novo – oscillated between the Axis powers, whose authoritarianism the Brazilian regime sympathized with, and the Allies, considering the enormous pressure from the United States for Brazil, a country belonging to the backyard of Yankee imperialism, to fight alongside the (supposed) liberal democracies. Vargas maneuvered with US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt to have the US finance the construction of the CSN (National Steel Company), in exchange for sending the Brazilian Expeditionary Force (FEB) to battles in support of the Allies in Europe. 

With the Allied victory in World War II, the situation of dictator Getúlio Vargas became increasingly untenable. Eventually, the Minister of War of the Estado Novo regime, Eurico Gaspar Dutra, removed Vargas from power and became the first elected president of Brazil after the end of the Vargas regime. Before that, however, the "Queremismo" movement was established in Brazil with the support of the Brazilian Communist Party (PCB), which had recently been placed in semi-legality – let us remember that, before the official start of the Cold War, in the second half of the 1940s, the USA and USSR were still victorious allies in the fight against Nazism and Fascism – whose objective was to maintain Getúlio Vargas ("We want Getúlio") in the presidency of Brazil. 

And so, on the platforms of the "Queremismo" movement, emerges, alongside Vargas, the supremely popular figure of the "Knight of Hope," a charismatic nickname by which none other than the communist leader Luís Carlos Prestes, widower of Olga Benário, was known. (In what is perhaps the most famous photograph of the "Queremismo" movement, Vargas and Prestes smile and shake hands in support of Getúlio's continued leadership of Brazil.)

How is it possible that Prestes would have taken to the platforms of the Queremismo movement to defend Olga's murderer, who, let us remember, was seven months pregnant when she was deported to Nazi Germany? 

In an interview given to the Roda Viva program on TV Cultura in 1986, Luís Carlos Prestes said: “There was no alliance (with Getúlio Vargas), there was support. I was still in prison and already supporting Mr. Vargas's government. At that time, the main enemy of humanity was Nazism. The fundamental thing at that time was to liquidate Nazism. (...) The UDN (National Democratic Union, a party of the so-called liberal right), for example, was against sending soldiers to Italy. (They said) 'first we have to end fascism in Brazil so that we can then send soldiers to fight Nazism in Europe'. It was a reversal of the situation, because Hitler's defeat would have consequences for Brazil, and Getúlio would fall on October 29th, in the same year (19)45. So, the fundamental thing at that moment was to turn against the main enemy of humanity. For that, we needed to support our soldiers who were in Italy, the Brazilian soldiers, and that was the government "It was Getúlio who fed and supported those soldiers. So, supporting that government was supporting the soldiers. That was my position. I don't do politics based on my personal resentments. I do politics based on the interests of the Brazilian people and I take positions in the face of concrete situations that we are facing." 

In the first semester of 2003, when I was taking the course "Introduction to Political Science" as part of my undergraduate studies in Social Sciences, Professor Nicolau Eustáquio (let's call him that) used Luís Carlos Prestes's stance against Getúlio Vargas to illustrate, "perfectly" (the professor emphasizes), the Machiavellian attitude – in the strong and historical sense of that adjective – of a political actor for whom Realpolitik is above any personal interests (I was nauseous and discerned, as personal interests with tangible faces and desires, affections, vows and loves, the baby of Olga and Prestes, the irrevocable fragility of human life that we embrace as husband and wife, as father and mother). 

So, what kind of stock are human beings made of? 

This is what has perplexed me for a long time. 

Meet Pedro, the architect who was initially married to Eva, a psychologist, and a friend of Saulo, a lawyer. 

The son of civil engineer Simão and educator Guilhermina, Pedro was sadly raised amidst the crossfire between his parents. As a messenger of discord, Pedro carried controversial messages from Simão to Guilhermina (and vice versa). 

Pedro could never agree with Santiago, his former mathematics teacher, for whom the cornerstone of geometry was the equilateral triangle. For Pedro, all triangles are scalene or, at most, isosceles, always having the weakest and most asymmetrical base, acting as cannon fodder. 

Initially, the friendship between Peter and Saul proved fruitful. Converging worldviews initially drew them closer. Saul, moreover, began to listen to Peter's disappointments stemming from his long relationship with Eve. 

While Peter's confessions remained private, that is, without Eve's presence, Saul listened attentively to his friend and tried to position himself, without crossing the barbed wire of brutal honesty, with a sense of justice and equality. However, the deepening of their friendship began to cause Peter and Eve to unleash a torrent of disagreements in front of Saul, as if the outsider could be turned into the center of the relationship – or, worse, the bone of contention. 

"Don't you think she's wrong, Saul?" Peter asked. 

"Look how unfair he is, Saul!" Eva retorted. 

Saulo quickly came to the conclusion that the saying "crossfire doesn't hurt" could only have been conceived by someone who never imagined themselves as a couples therapist. 

While Peter and Eve initially struggled to convert Saul into a keeper of the balance, the couple soon began seeking out their friend for javelin throwing with kid gloves. 

Eva, today I'm going to have a beer with Saulo and the guys at a bar in Vila da Madalena, and the party has no set end time. You don't need to wait up for me, okay? 

– Pedro, Saulo told me there's a new movie theater in Pinheiros, and I invited Camila to see Godard's new film together. You know how much I trust Saulo's taste, right? By the way, Pedro, it's more than time you got some clothing tips from Saulo, isn't it? 

Saul quickly realizes that things are about to get complicated between Peter and Eve. Since Saul has absolutely no aptitude for smoking tobacco, the only option is to run away. 

It so happened that, just as Saul was about to slip away in his escape along the hypotenuse, after skillfully rounding the corner of the legs of the right triangle, Peter called him, out of the blue, on a night that seemed to mark the end of yet another day of truce: 

– Saul, my friend, my mother just killed herself! Help me, brother, help me!

At Dona Guilhermina's wake, it was impossible not to feel compassion for Simão's convulsive tears, which dripped onto Pedro's mother and even slid down onto her son like salty drops of holy water. At one point, Saulo thought he noticed that Simão's right hand, whenever it approached Dona Guilhermina's lacerated neck (she had hanged herself), alternated, in a flash (and almost imperceptibly, like the blink of an illusion), between the position of the soft, caressing fingers and the position of the claw-like, suffocating fingers. "It's my imagination, it has to be... It can't be!" (Saulo banished the bad omen of a chill that climbed his spine with a somewhat conspiratorial "By the Sign of the Cross.") 

After the burial, Peter, already somewhat drunk, made one last confession to Saul: 

"My relationship with Eva should have ended a long time ago, Saulo, a long time ago... Eva betrayed me two years ago, and I forgave her, I wanted to forgive her, because my love for her burns so much – the more it burns, the more I love her, my friend..." 

When someone is raised on a diet of antiseptic, there comes a point where they blow on the wound not to cool the burning sensation, but to fan the flames and fuel the fire. 

We are the ashes. 

Are we accomplices? 

Peter places his right hand on Saul's right shoulder:

– Saul, my friend… – Peter stumbles over each syllable – Saul, my friend, Eva… Eva… (Saul swallows hard and tries not to widen his eyes so much that he can stifle the blow he already anticipates.) Saul, my friend, Eva… Eva didn’t actually hit on you, did she? 

Never, Pedro, absolutely not, man!

And you, Saul, you, my friend, you... never got around to hitting on Eva, did you? 

Saul places his left hand on Peter's left shoulder: 

"For God's sake, Pedro, I'm here at your mother's wake! I swear to God that nothing ever happened between me and Eva, never! How could you possibly think that? Get that out of your head, brother, for God's sake, for everything that is sacred!" 

As the Mozambican writer Mia Couto teaches us, "jealousy is a windmill that moves without wind." 

What happens to jealousy, Mia, when its shroud is grief? 

What happens to grief, Mia, when guilt is its shroud? 

What happens to guilt, Mia, when jealousy is your shroud? 

Here is the pendulum – with alcohol, here is the carousel – that spun in Peter's head (and, surreptitiously, in Saul's). 

After the appropriate period of condolences to Pedro, during which Saulo was present and helpful, the lawyer decided to distance himself, cautiously and summarily, from the architect, but not before recommending, with due fraternal prudence, a therapist (Armando) in whose work he had great confidence. 

Some time later, it was through occupational therapist Camila, a friend of Eva's, that Saulo learned of the end of Pedro's long relationship. Camila and Saulo were almost starting a relationship. I say almost, because Saulo often felt that there was a stone in the middle of the road (or even in his shoe): Camila often talked about Pedro and Eva, so that, even though they were apart, they seemed to be together (and apart) once again. 

Now, if the triangle can be a right triangle, would its fourth edge be a sneaky shadow?

When Camila suggested the idea of ​​mediating a reconciliation between Pedro and Eva, Saulo put on the most forced frown he could muster and called for a truco (a card game) with a silence that was anything but friendly. 

As Pedro and Eva eventually stopped being sprayed by Camila (even sheltered in her shell, does the turtle insist on existing or not?), Saulo decided to ask the girl to be his girlfriend. In the early hours of the celebration, Saulo receives a phone call from Mariana, his sister: "Hurry over here, Saulo, I'm taking Mom to the hospital now, she's very ill!". 

Saulo flies to his pants, without even remembering his underwear, and leaves, with his shirt inside out and half-buttoned, leaving Camila on the bigamous border between wakefulness and sleep. 

Retired teacher Dorinha, Saulo's mother, had suffered a severe stroke, and when Saulo arrived at the hospital crying, Mariana and her brother hugged and prayed for a long time while their mother underwent emergency surgery. 

Soon the relatives started to arrive. 

Camila arrived soon after. 

Then, much to Saulo's surprise, who struggled to avoid seeing in Camila the embrace of Monalisa, Pedro and Eva arrived. 

Embracing his sister Mariana, Saulo held Camila's left hand – and peered, out of the corner of his left eye, at Pedro and Camila's continuous conversation ("And lively?") (Eva had gone out to buy coffee, but hadn't returned). 

At one point, suffering greatly and embracing his sister over his mother's misfortune, Saulo felt that, of the hand he had given to Camila, only the little finger remained as a bridge of planks.

As the Mozambican writer Mia Couto teaches us, "jealousy is a windmill that moves without wind." 

What happens to jealousy, Mia, when your veil is the imminence of mourning? 

What happens to the impending grief, Mia, when your shroud is guilt? 

What happens to guilt, Mia, when jealousy is veiled in your eyes? 

When the doctor came down to the waiting room to dissect, using Martian vocabulary, Dona Dorinha's clinical picture, Saulo tried to bury the avalanche of his affections with the hope of filial love. 

From everything the doctor explained, Saulo and Mariana understood that the situation was critical, but it still offered a glimmer of hope. 

Saulo and Mariana decided to spend the night in the waiting room, and their closest relatives joined them without hesitation. 

Saulo had hoped that Camila would agree to stay with them (every second of hesitation tore at him like a dagger). Was Saulo surprised that Camila was talking (“Conspiring?”) with Pedro and Eva at that very moment?

– Saulo, my dear, I tried calling my boss, but I couldn't get through. Since I've only been at the job for a short time – and since we're sure your mother will be okay – what do you think about me doing the following: I'll go to work in the morning, explain the situation to my boss, and come back just before lunch – is that alright with you, my love? 

Grinding his teeth as if chewing sand, Saulo replies to Camila:

Of course, my dear, that's great... Thank you so much for your unconditional support during this very difficult time for me and my family... 

In a flash, Saulo pulled out a bathroom break to escape the waiting room for Camila (and the antechamber of guilt over Dona Dorinha). 

The following morning, Saulo's mother passed away – Dona Dorinha had survived the surgery, but she couldn't escape being overwhelmed by post-operative crises. 

Saulo and Mariana couldn't bear to see their mother lifeless and pleaded, from the bottom of their hearts, for help from their relatives. 

There was no wake.

The burial was swift. 

The anxiety over the inevitable collapse of pain and abandonment may have led Saulo and Mariana to try to avoid grief by becoming, all at once (and irrevocably), orphans. (If you can't beat them, join them.)

Two hours after lunch, when Camila, accompanied by Pedro and Eva, returned to the hospital, there was no sign of Saulo, Mariana, or the rest of the family. There was no more crying or gnashing of teeth. 

When, almost a month later, Saulo was beginning to resume a semblance of routine, like a turtle slowly peeking its head out of its shell, the young man discerned, in his email inbox – it's worth explaining that, in the archaeological site of the 2000s, people still communicated by email – a message from Pedro, whose title was "Forgive Camila, my friend, and our deepest condolences." 

"Saul, my friend, 

"Eva, Camila and I, whom we have been trying to comfort since you and Dona Dorinha passed away, are very sorry for the passing of your mother, my friend, and we offer you our deepest condolences. The three of us would very much like to see you again and hug you, to cry together with you and your sister." 

"Know that the three of us are here for you and because of you, my friend. My deepest condolences, brother, and may God bless you!"

"Eva and I would like to ask, from the bottom of our hearts, that you forgive Camila. We don't know exactly what you're feeling, but since we haven't heard from you since then – and since you and Mariana not only don't answer Camila's phone calls, but may have even blocked her (and both of us) on Orkut – we would like to explain what happened after Camila left the hospital, when you last saw each other." 

“While Eva and I were taking Camila home, she just kept flagellating herself, exclaiming and repeating that she would never forgive herself for not offering to spend the night at the hospital with you and Mariana – then she said she was new to the job, that she didn't know how the boss would react, and that if you had asked her to stay, she would have done it immediately, without hesitation. Eva and I exchanged silent glances, and, as I feel, we often wanted to take Camila back to the hospital, but, in that state of nerves, we thought it best, always in silent eye contact, to take her to our house and let her sleep, something she ultimately only managed to do by taking Eva's medication (we told you once how strong Eva's medication is, remember?).” 

"Because of the medication, Saulo, Eva, and I thought it best to let Camila sleep until the cavalry passed. After all, there was a good chance for Dona Dorinha, according to the doctor, and the three of us could return to the hospital together to see you and Mariana. That's what we ended up doing, but when we got there, no one was left."

“Eva, Camila, and I thought about going to your house, Saulo, but since you remain unreachable on Orkut as well – we asked mutual friends to check your page, and in fact, no scraps have been posted – we will, of course, respect your feelings, my friend. Exile is also a way of going through grief.” 

"If you can't forgive Camila as a girlfriend, my friend, if you don't want to be with her anymore, I ask that you forgive her as a friend. She has suffered a lot, Saulo, and a gesture of support from you could greatly relieve her."

"Eva and I miss talking to you so much, my friend. And this has been the case since before the sad passing of Dona Dorinha – my condolences once again, Saulo, may God bless you!"

"In the meantime, something very unusual happened, my friend: at first, Eva and I comforted Camila a lot – sometimes we even had to take turns. Then, with Camila's gradual return to our world, she, with great sensitivity, began to greatly help the relationship between Eva and me, and the two of us (because of Camila's support, I almost wrote "the three of us") haven't argued in quite some time, and we frequently remember the good times you helped us through." 

"We really want to tell you all this face to face, mano a mano, within arm's reach. We'll always be here whenever you want to talk to us, my friend."

"My condolences for your mother, Saulo. May God bless Mrs. Dorinha, you, and Mariana." 

"Forgive Camila, my friend." 

Big hug, 

"Pedro (Eva and Camila)"

"PS: Not long ago, I came to the conclusion that I could end my therapy with Armando, the excellent psychologist you recommended. If, by any chance, you feel like resuming sessions with him, that's perfectly fine with me, my friend. In that case, Armando becomes not an accomplice, but an important witness."