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Bruno Pereira and Dom Phillips: men disappear, common sense ends

It was one of those simple news. Tragically simple. Indigenist Bruno Pereira and journalist Dom Phillips disappeared in the Amazon. In a remote region of the Amazon , perhaps it would be nice to clarify soon. At first, the news should be cause for concern, but also hope. Disappearance does not necessarily mean death.

But in five minutes what was news that could have an even adventurous outcome (“Indigenist and journalist reappear after living ‘Largados e Pelados’ in the Amazon ”) was gaining layer upon layer of imposture and caricatures and intricate conspiracy theories. In five minutes what was a disappearance turned into a flag to be raised by parasites. Some, unable to recognize the intrinsic dignity of all people, including our adversaries; others, unable to suffer a tragedy when it serves their political interests.

Ah, Paulo. But the indigenist there was PT and the journalist was leftist. I know. But does that make them any less worthy? Misguided militontos, come on, but even the dumbest of misguided militants deserve to be treated with dignity. I go further: when someone celebrates the death of his opponents in this way, he is implicitly acknowledging the inferiority of his ideas. Our ideas are only admirable if they are able to fight ideas of the same size and weight. You don’t kick drunk downhill.

As far as I could see, the work of Bruno Pereira and Dom Phillips was really based on premises that I think are beyond wrong. I say more: they are premises with a high power of destruction in the medium and long term. And I say even more: they are premises based on an abominable eugenics instinct. But that didn’t mean they deserved to disappear and, as time passes and hopes wane, death. They didn’t even deserve to miss the opportunity to, who knows, recognize their mistake and redeem themselves.

Presumption of evil

On the other side of this war, which, in the end, is the millenary war of men against their consciences, it didn’t take long to accuse the President of the Republic for the disappearance of the militants. Faced with the prevalence of this presumption of evil, I wonder how anti-anythings manage to sleep at night if they know that there is an evil monster who works 24 hours a day for, between a motorcycle and another, to cut down a little jungle, attack the STF and, here and there, eliminate two political opponents in a very remote region of a forest so big that it should be called Amazoníssima.

But calm down that gets worse. It always gets worse. After a week, there is little hope left and the police have already tried to find a suspect. As horrible news emerges, the useful corpse parasites spread their wings, unconcerned that the missing have a family that will likely never be able to say goodbye to their loved ones. In fact, it is worth saying something here that is much more than a simple catchphrase; it is a truism that, in times of insane polarization, always insane, it has become convenient to forget: no matter how politically wrong a person is, he will always be dear to someone.

At these times, it’s worth the old and little practiced exercise of putting yourself in the place of the bereaved mother, wife or child. How would you react if your father disappeared and you never found out what really happened to him? And here I emphasize that not every tragedy has political culprits. Perhaps the men fell into a piranha-infested river. Perhaps they were victims of a tribe that lives isolated and for which the rules of civilization do not apply. Perhaps (and despite all the experience and technology) they got lost. And perhaps they were killed by some minor disagreement in that practically lawless territory.

“I demand an answer”, wrote a communist parasite – pardon the pleonasm that, besides being vicious, stinks. Minister Luís Roberto Barroso ordered that the lost be found. On the go! “The culprit is the president,” wrote someone. In common, these people have the abject obsession with politics and the belief that every death needs an executioner – coincidentally, usually an ideological adversary.

Before closing the text, stay here highlighting the ultra-positivist thinking of Barroso, who clearly believes that his pen has magical powers not only to find two people in the green immensity, but also to solve all humanity’s problems. No, the problem is not misguided people scrambling into the hostile bush to defend the neo-Malthusian narrative of environmentalism; the problem is really these clean authorities, who have never seen jaguars or misery up close, but who think they are intellectually divine (they are not).

This, by the way, explains why we live in times that insist to take simple and sad news, but initially full of hope, and turn it into a narrative to be used by advertisers in creating a hateful world, where living is depressingly undesirable.

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