What the Brazilian Dictatorship Did to My Family

The death of my father sheds light on what Brazil’s future may now hold.

By Marcelo Paiva
Mr. Paiva is a Brazilian writer.

Oct. 29, 2018

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SÃO PAULO, Brazil — Jair Bolsonaro, an ultraright wing populist, was elected president on Sunday. As I processed this new reality, I looked out my window and watched the celebratory fireworks illuminate the night sky. In the distance, I made out one of Mr. Bolsonaro's supporters holding up a sign that said, “Ustra Lives.”

It was a chilling reminder of our past. From 1970 to 1974, Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra was the head of the DOI-CODI, the intelligence agency responsible for stamping out critics during military rule. He oversaw the torture of political dissidents while they were detained by the secret police.

Mr. Bolsonaro’s rise has been driven by people’s anger and disillusionment, stemming from a huge multiyear corruption probe that has upended the country, a homicide rate that is sky high and a flailing economy. It didn’t matter to many that his inflammatory rhetoric denigrated women, as well as gay, black and indigenous people, or that he spoke fondly of torture and dictatorships. Indeed, an estimated 43 percent of the population is in favor of the military intervening in government affairs. I think Brazilians have forgotten what it means to be ruled at gunpoint.

My father was a congressman for the State of São Paulo and a socialist. The military junta revoked his mandate after the 1964 coup d’état, and he went back to work as a civil engineer. I was 11 when he was arrested, along with my mother and my sister. It was a sunny morning in January in Rio de Janeiro in 1971, and we were getting ready to go to Leblon beach, which was across the street from our house. Suddenly, six armed men dressed in plain clothes entered through the back door into the kitchen, pointing machine guns. Outside, more men surrounded the house.

More:
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/29/opinion/what-the-brazilian-dictatorship-did-to-my-family.html

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Marcelo Rubens Paiva




Marcelo Rubens Paiva.

Marcelo Rubens Paiva (born 1959 in São Paulo) is a Brazilian writer born in São Paulo, Brazil. He is the son of Rubens Paiva, who disappeared during Brazil's military dictatorship in 1971.

When jumping off a waterfall, Paiva fractured his spine and became tetraplegic. In 1983, after extensive physiotherapy, he gained the movement of both arms and hands and wrote Feliz Ano Velho (Happy Old Year), an autobiographical recollection of these events and his entire life.

Marcelo Rubens Paiva has also written Blecaute (1986), Ua:brari (1990), As Fêmeas (1992), Bala na Agulha (1994), Não és Tu Brasil (1996), Malu de Bicicleta (2004) and O Homem que Conhecia as Mulheres (2006).

Since 2003, he has been writing a blog for the Brazilian newspaper Estadão

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcelo_Rubens_Paiva