Bolsonaro: “Stop it. Get up, come here and give me a hug!”

Idiot (and not imbecile) that I am, watching the images of President Jair Bolsonaro hugging Minister Alexandre de Moraes during a ceremony at the TST, I imagined that the next day everyone would just talk about it. After all, this was, for me, one of the defining gestures of a four-year period marked by psychotic antagonism, unfounded fear and self-righteous vanity.

But no. The gesture was absolutely despised. I only saw one journalist use the blue seal to call Bolsonaro “chuchuca”. Perhaps he expected the president to punch the minister in the face. Which is understandable. Shows of cordiality are terrible for consciences eaten away by an unconfessable desire for blood. And here’s another reason why we turned our backs on the supreme presidential embrace: it runs counter to a spirit of the times that confuses truculence with courage and any of the seven capital virtues with cowardice.

Another thing that helped overshadowing what a Prince Michkin would consider the political event of the year was the visit of billionaire Elon Musk. But only because Musk, much more than a hug, foments virulent feuds. I mean, as virulent as social media memes and “debates” can be. Another important sign of the times, or rather, of the general state of our soul: we prefer to wallow in the misery of political debate than to contemplate two people striving to act as worthy human beings.

Finally, contempt by the president’s embrace of the enfant terrible of the STF (and vice versa) part of a conscious and Machiavellian pragmatic choice of those who control the narrative: to ignore anything that President Jair Bolsonaro say or do that could be detrimental to the effort to portray the chief executive as a monster. In other words, for some, reality will have to adjust to the opinion of the enlightened. in the force. And for that, some are willing to compromise what they have left (if there is anything left) of hope.

Don’t be fresh

Everything in the scene is worthy of appreciation, analysis and, as I intend to state next, admiration. Bolsonaro arrives with that smile mezzo carioca, mezzo joão-sem-arço, involves with a curious effusiveness two pachecos whose name I’m not going to bother doing research, and when he sees the little king Alexandre de Moraes sullenly sitting on the throne, he makes a gesture like you do at the bar for friends. Something like “get up, man, stop being silly!”.

Alexandre de Moraes, who to me seems embarrassed like a spoiled boy who hears from his mother the order of “I don’t want to know who started what! swallow your tears and hug your little brother! I want to see you two make up now!” he stands up and receives a handshake. It was supposed to stay there, but for some reason Alexandre de Moraes gets excited and puts his hands on Bolsonaro’s shoulder and elbow – who now seems reticent to get too close.

Of course you can use it. the lens of cynicism, Machiavellianism, political scientism, nihilism and identity to see the scene as a duel and then attest that one of them won and the other died or is mortally wounded. “It was a display of toxic masculinity,” someone will say. Most likely some. “It was a political calculation that anticipates a coup”, says another in bold letters. “Jesus was betrayed with a kiss”, will evoke a third, kind of humming that song by the Urban Legion.

But I will now invite you to drink from the scarce source of ingenuity intentional in order to watch the scene as a sign that, despite all the regrets that appear on the covers of newspapers or our timelines, despite all the bellicose rhetoric and all the too many exclamation points, despite all the legal absurdities and all our sense of helplessness, despite this and that two enemies, for a few seconds, held hands, each feeling the other’s living presence and recognizing himself as an individual that exists beyond the political character.

Without any fear of losing all my savings in this bet, I venture to say that we witnessed a little miracle: for a few seconds, the macabre theater of power (or macabre power theater) was interrupted for us to appreciate the manifestation of cordiality (the correct word it is “love”) that unites us. The fact that in the next moment Bolsonaro and Alexandre de Moraes returned to their respective political roles is a detail that I choose to ignore today. Just for today.

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