Hail Saint George! Hail the Carnival of Salvador!

I've been discussing Salvador's Carnival for years, at least the recent ones. Since I was a city councilman in the early 2000s, I've criticized the elitist model that excludes Black people and the poor, that is based on the worship of the god of the market, that is based exclusively on the accumulation of capital, which has become a big business for a select few. No, don't come to me with the mantra that it's just how it is, that there's no way around it, that those are the rules of the game, that capitalism is like that, don't come to me with arguments that naturalize exclusion.

I was happy with João Jorge's outburst, a conscious, lucid outburst, in which he said that Salvador's carnival is the carnival of only one artist, Ivete Sangalo, the great white mother, protagonist of the ridiculous "Cansei" (I'm fed up) back in August 2007, proudly standing alongside the timid Regina Duarte and Ana Maria Braga, among so many others who were tired, as Altamiro Borges, from O Vermelho, recently reminded us. They grew tired of talking, of shouting, and withdrew for the good of all and the general happiness of the Nation. "Cansei" became ridiculous.

João Jorge, president of Olodum, one of Salvador's most respected and brilliant Black carnival groups, recently stated in an interview with Folha de S. Paulo that Bahia's carnival is discriminatory, segregating, and a great exclusion benefiting a minority. He rightly points out that a small group of white businessmen and artists has the best sponsorships, the greatest visibility, and all the resources. Black men and women are excluded. And the ropes, with security guards – the "cordeiros" – separate the carnival groups from the general public, the "folião pipoca" (street reveler), who constitute the vast majority. Carnival could be more generous, more inclusive, and treat the people better, and here, undoubtedly, the Black people, the overwhelming majority of Salvador's population.

The idea of ​​the Afródromo – a circuit exclusively for Black carnival groups, already symptomatically blessed by Mayor ACM Neto – seems to him, João Jorge, as it does to me, a mistake. Black people would be relegated to Cidade Baixa, removed from the central circuit, and would have their own private celebration, which, it seems to me, as it does to João Jorge, could perpetuate apartheid, not defeat it. Black people are allowed to play in peace, and white people stay on the other side, in the central carnival circuit. Why not guarantee space for Black carnival groups in the heart of the festivities, all together? Perhaps they will convince me that this idea is good, but so far I share João Jorge's opinion.

As João Jorge says, since Bahia has become the land of a single artist, emerging artists are systematically excluded, impoverishing the city and the state. Of course, saying it's a one-person party is a metaphor, although very close to reality. The reporter tells him in the interview, "But there's Claudia Leitte." Yes, so what? "They are white singers who dominate the entire advertising market, the entire concert market, and they compete with each other." And Bahia, with excellent Black singers, in a predominantly Black city, doesn't take advantage of the strong symbolism of a deeply rooted culture, Black culture, an essential part of Bahian life. João Jorge says that the Black singers of Bahia "would be millionaires in the USA."

Hail Saint George. Hail John George. No one can deny that Carnival is also a business, a festival that generates profits. But is this the only model, the one that kills the goose that lays the golden eggs, which is popular participation, the freedom for the people to have fun, move around, jump, play, and revel? The profit won't disappear, but is this the only model, so concentrated in power? I don't think so; there are always alternatives, and better ones, if there is a willingness to change. They talk a lot after Carnival is over, they talk about changing the circuit, about the Afródromo.

Nothing, however, that gets to the root of the problem, that confronts the segregation that the roped-up and roped-up trio blocks produce in the carnival. Apart from the VIP boxes, which have become an obscene spectacle of ostentation, taking thousands of revelers with some money off the streets, fattening the coffers of those who run the business, and deepening the segregation.

And this segregationist, elitist spirit, which reinforces apartheid, is taking on dramatic colors, although curiously it is becoming normalized. The singers, few in number, who control the carnival, go so far as to give tourists the opportunity to not even get to know Salvador—that's right, don't think I'm exaggerating. The reveler pays an exorbitant amount to guarantee that they arrive at the hotel rented by one of them, mingle with their star, leave protected by security guards, naturally Black, and go straight to the middle of the ropes without even passing through the sweaty crowd. All inclusive, they proclaim, in that horrible expression, typical of a repulsive cultural servility. And after the all-inclusive, once the revelry is over, they go to the airport, and goodbye Salvador, which they didn't get to know. They only mingled with the other revelers between the ropes, duly protected by the security guards, who received something like 43 reais per day, if I remember correctly. During Carnival, it was reported in the newspaper that Cláudia Leite gave a dressing-down to a security guard because he was hitting a reveler who decided to invade the block's ropes – the security guard must have been fired, even though he was following the star's instructions.

The mayor-elect comes from the party business, admittedly. Therefore, in principle, his responsibility would surely be even greater, as he cannot in any way confuse the public and private spheres. I say this out of curiosity, because, after all, he is not responsible for this model, which has been in place for some years. He found it already in place. But he could have prohibited the operation of a VIP box on a public space, a gigantic VIP box, in Ondina. Or another one on a gas station in the same neighborhood. He will have time to reflect on all this and design next year's carnival.

João Jorge's interview had no impact. The promoters of this elitist carnival remained silent, which is the best way to leave everything as it is, to not give importance to the debate. That's life, some will say. That's just how it is, others will say. Nothing. We have to rise up against this, give the carnival back to the common people, restrict and regulate the market, confront the hateful inequality that manifests itself during the days of revelry.

The square belongs to the people as the sky belongs to the airplane, as it has been said. It no longer does. And it needs to be returned to the people. Urgently. Is it possible to imagine a day when all the ropes have been abolished? I don't know. I only know that the way things are going, and I've said this on other occasions, they are killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, which is popular participation. The VIP boxes will expand more and more, the trio blocks will increase their revenue, the general public will be at the mercy of the goodwill of one trio or another, and so it goes, with the donkey full. And the poor and black people can go to hell. No, we need to react. Democratize the Bahia carnival.

The people have already sung Caetano and should continue to sing: money doesn't bind me, but beauty doesn't, dark skin doesn't, firm flesh doesn't. Save the Bahia carnival. Give it back to the people.