At first glance, the answer to this question seems easy: we are the product of the miscegenation between Portuguese colonizers, the indigenous people who lived in Brazil, and Africans brought as slave labor, in addition to immigrants who arrived between the 19th and 20th centuries – such as Germans, Italians, and Japanese. So far, so good. We are, after all, a genetically and culturally mixed people who, despite our diversity, share certain common traits.
However, the question becomes a bit more complicated when it comes to seeking the essence of what has come to be called national character, those traits that explain a series of behaviors we tend to view as natural but that often surprise foreigners.
It’s not just a stereotype. Brazilians relate with more affection. Brazilians chat in the street, while in Europe, silence predominates in bus and subway stations.
And when we analyze whether Brazilians are creative or procrastinators, extroverted or indiscreet, cordial or cunning, flexible or corruptible?
After yet another flood of corruption allegations, the discussion about the essence of character is back in the spotlight. Where does the “jeitinho” come from, the informality, the naturalness in the face of misery, the prejudices, the ability to place faith in more than one religion?
In the 20th century, books like “Casa-Grande & Senzala” by Gilberto Freyre attempted to answer some of these questions. But are the classic interpretations of what it means to be Brazilian still valid today?
That Brazilians are mixed is something that can be seen. But how much? In what proportion? Even during the empire, the mixture of ethnicities horrified Europeans who disembarked in Brazil. At that time, influenced by racial theories, they viewed miscegenation as a threat of degeneration to all the races living in Brazil. Today, biologists have discarded the very concept of race. Researchers know that there are so many genetic variations in a group with common physical traits that the notion of “race” has lost its meaning – genetic inheritance tracking is done through DNA analysis.
In Brazil, the main mapping of our more than 500 years of miscegenation is led by geneticist Sérgio Danilo Pena from the Federal University of Minas Gerais. The first discovery was the difference between the genetic load of paternal and maternal ancestors.
While most paternal lineages of white Brazilians are of European origin (about 90%), a large part of maternal lineages is of Amerindian and African origin (about 60%). In other words: most have European traits inherited from male ancestors and indigenous and African traits inherited from their mothers. Science proves that the European colonizer did not hesitate to have a large offspring with enslaved women and natives.
The lack of relationship between skin color and the genetic origin of Brazilians stands out. About two-thirds of genetic samples from white people were not of European origin. These data reveal that, in Brazil, classifying people by physical appearance is useless, since genetically, many whites can be considered black… and many blacks can be considered white.
But what makes Brazilians communicate so differently from people in other countries, including Portugal? Why do Brazilians almost always prefer to clarify something in person rather than reading the instruction manual?
The preference for spoken language in Brazil is not only linked to a psychological trait or the high illiteracy rates in the country. This preference stems from the fact that for centuries, Brazilians had 2 languages: Portuguese, used in documents, and the so-called general language (the Tupi adapted by Jesuits to convert the indigenous people), spoken in everyday life, within homes.
Since the general language was not written, this could be the origin of the Brazilian tendency to resolve anything “in conversation.”
If it weren’t for a decree from the Marquis of Pombal in 1757, imposing the Portuguese language and prohibiting the dissemination of Tupi (and by extension, the power of action of Jesuit priests), this influence could have been even greater. Had Pombal’s decision not been successful, it is even possible that Brazil today would have 2 official languages: Portuguese and Tupi.
In 1943, after a visit from Walt Disney to Brazil, as part of the U.S. “good neighbor” policy aimed at strengthening ties with South Americans during World War II, Donald Duck introduced a new companion in the film “Alô, Amigos.” His name was Joe Carioca for Americans, or Zé Carioca for Brazilians. A friendly and talkative parrot. From then on, the image of the Brazilian was established as a kind of tropical “bon vivant,” full of rhythm, who did not adapt to formal jobs and lived off “gigs.”
But many years before gaining worldwide recognition, the typical figure of the “good malandro” was already present in Brazil’s imagination. The malandro would be the figure of the Brazilian mulatto who navigates prejudice and achieves a certain social ascent through favors earned with charm and sympathy.
Before Zé Carioca, the misadventures of the character “Macunaíma” by Mário de Andrade, released in 1928, had already revealed the cunning and mixed essence of the national character.
In 1936, historian Sérgio Buarque de Holanda dedicated one of the chapters of his book “Raízes do Brasil” to the study of the so-called “cordial man,” a term used at the time to try to explain the character of Brazilians. One of the traits of the cordial Brazilian was the tendency to prioritize family and personal relationships over professional or public ones. The Brazilian, in a way, would tend to reject the impersonality of administrative systems where the whole is more important than the individual. Hence the difficulty in finding public figures who respect the separation between public and private and who place the interests of the State above friendships.
Perhaps that’s why, when friendship and the jeitinho don’t work, it’s common to hear a harsh and authoritative “Do you know who you’re talking to?”
In the book “Carnavais, Malandros e Heróis,” the inherited dilemma of Brazilians is described. On one side, we submit to a system of impersonal laws whose obedience in wealthy countries causes us envy and admiration. Internally, however, we view these laws as a kind of joy-killer – and bureaucrats, knowing this, often seem to apply them to make citizens’ lives difficult. On the other side, there is our “network of contacts” system, where kinship, friendship, or any personal connection that bypasses the law prevails. In short: the law is seen – and often applied – as a punishment, and to escape this punishment, cunning and the jeitinho are valid.
There was no way. No matter how much the correspondent from the Spanish newspaper El País tried, the housekeeper in his home did not accept the idea of having lunch at the table with him and his wife. “For her, that is unthinkable,” says Juan Arias. “Only later did I realize the ambivalent relationship Brazilians have with the people who work in their homes.”
On one hand, there is an almost familial intimacy with the domestic worker. On the other, labor rights are often disrespected, and access is restricted to the service area. Even in modern buildings, the so-called “service area” remains a “legacy of the slave quarters.”
Slavery left marks not only on architecture and urbanism but on all aspects of Brazilian life.
One of the most pernicious legacies of slavery would have been the naturalness with which misery is cohabited in Brazil. It’s as if slavery made the country accustomed to the existence of first and second-class citizens. This coexistence with inequality for centuries has made people less moved by misery.
The efforts for urbanization and sanitation failed to make Brazilian cities a reproduction of the world’s capitals. In Rio, for example, the ruins of old tenements demolished for the construction of grand Parisian-style avenues served as material for the homeless to build improvised homes on the hills, giving rise to the first favelas in Rio.
What image would prevail of the country? The urbanized, white, European one, or the black, favela-dwelling, African one?
It was the image of the mulatto that prevailed. The milestone of this change appeared with the publication of “Casa-Grande & Senzala” by Gilberto Freyre in 1933.
In culture, the movement initiated with the Modern Art Week of 1922 had already absorbed this mixed identity in the works of plastic artists like Tarsila do Amaral and writers like Mário de Andrade, the father of Macunaíma. What was missing was for the government to acknowledge that Brazil was a mixed country.
This occurred with the advent of Vargas’s Estado Novo. It was then that capoeira became a national sport, samba became the quintessential Brazilian music, and feijoada, with the black of the beans and the white of the rice, the green of the collard greens and the yellow of the orange, became the official dish of Brazilians. Years later, the song “Aquarela do Brasil” by Ary Barroso would enshrine the mixed identity by singing the virtues of the “inzoneiro mulato” to the world. In Brazil, there is diversity of races, culture, and even religion. In what other country can someone be a little Catholic, a little Spiritist, and be afraid of crossroads?
But what will the face of the Brazilian be in the 21st century? Something is changing. The population seems less inclined to accept the “jeitinho” when it means the promiscuity between the private and the public. But of course, this varies from region to region in the country, and it’s still early to say whether this change is for real or just surface-level.
One of the mistakes of Brazilians is believing that they need to become serious and impersonal for the country to develop and for everyone to have access to citizenship.
If cunning is restricted to the good-humored, self-critical, and tolerant side, and stays out of politics, then there’s nothing to worry about.
How the people suffer! This is the conclusion of a survey by the Center for Research and Historical Documentation of the Getúlio Vargas Foundation in partnership with the Institute for the Study of Religion.
See the responses from interviewees:
• Suffering – 74.1%
• Worker – 69.4%
• Happy – 63.3%
• Compliant – 61.4%
• Struggler – 48.0%
• Supportive – 46.1%
• Outraged – 42.3%
• Peaceful – 40.4%
• Honest – 36.2%
• Cunning – 30.8%
• Violent – 28.5%
• Lazy – 24.0%
• Selfish – 21.6%
• Dishonest – 17.2%
Issues such as endemic corruption and social inequality do not affect the self-esteem of Brazilians: 85% say they feel proud of their nationality, according to a survey conducted by the Datafolha institute. According to the same survey, 61% consider Brazil a great or good country to live in, and 72% consider it “very important” in the global scenario. Self-esteem is more pronounced in the North and Midwest regions, where 91% of respondents said they feel more pride than shame in being Brazilian. This proportion drops to 83% in the Southeast Region and reaches its lowest value among the inhabitants of São Paulo city, where the positive sentiment is shared by 79% of the population.
Source: text by Rodrigo Cavalcante for the editorial of Superinteressante magazine