Kenneth P. Serhin T


Prelude to the Bipartite

world, including the very important Brazilian branch and its local offshoots. As a
new structure, the pontiﬁcal commission sidestepped the traditional channels of
diplomacy of the Vatican secretariat of state, giving a greater voice to the laity and
rapidly bringing human rights issues to the attention of the press.” Through
Alceu’s efforts the commission became a source of negative publicity on the
regime.” I

Stopping Torture: Quiet Protest or Exaggerated Publicity?

Both Alceu and Branca Alves urged public condemnation of the regime on the
torture issue. In 1970 they debated the Church’s position with Dom Eugenio and
also Cardinal Vicente Scherer, the archbishop of Porto Alegre. A June 1970 letter
from Dom Eugenio to Branca Alves reveals the issues at hand:

I believe that you were mistaken in saying that after God only I could help solve the
problem of torture. 1 do not consider myself to be so powerful. If it were up to me,
there would be no torture or terrorism or even struggle against the government as it is
done here in Brazil. But there would be, in Christian harmony, an effort to resolve our
problems in favor of greater progress for our country. I will continue to take a position,
before God, against torture, arrests, incidents of kidnapping [and] a certain ideological
orientation that is not ratiﬁed by the Gospel. I also continue to be ﬁrmly against . . . the
deformation of public opinion about our country. The facts may be true, but they are
presented untruthfully abroad.“

Dom Eugenio clearly rejected Marxist class struggle and the revolutionary left,
and in a polarized world it was easy for people to _see him as “promilitary.” Alceu
received a similar letter from Dom Vicente after sending the cardinal a report on
torture. Dom Vicente undoubtedly opposed torture and heard testimony of abus-
es while visiting political prisoners at the Tiradentes Prison in Sao Paulo. However,
Dom Vicente condemned “what is being done in Europe, that is, the disclosure of
news that in Brazil torture is an official institution and practiced openly every-
where.”41 Dom Vicente did not know, or purposefully ignored, that this description
was not far from the truth: the regime had indeed made torture its unspoken poli-
cy and used it widely, albeit secretly.

In a September 1970 letter to Dom Eugenio, Alceu rebutted the bishops’ argu-
ments and explained the public campaign against the government. “To appeal to
the authorities to conﬁrm torture is to knock on doors that will never open,” he
wrote. Alceu reasoned that only public attacks—even exaggerations—-could break
through the horrible code of fear and intimidation that ruled torturers, their vic-
tims, and witnesses. Victims rarely conﬁrmed their suffering publicly for fear of

76

Prelude to the Bipartite

repeating the experience. Witnesses such as doctors and nurses denied their testi-
mony for fear of losing their jobs or of being tortured. The torturers were kept
unidentiﬁed.

Everything occurs in the most complete anonymity precisely so that no judicial proof
can ever be invoked. The silence, the denials, the impossibility to obtain proof are what
make torture even more gloomy. Therefore, it is a thousand times better to have exag-
gerated denunciations than for us to keep a silence that might be confused with com-

plicity.

Dom Hélder, Alceu added, suffered persecution precisely because he had made
the “terrible choice between silence and denunciation.” Alceu concluded that with-
out ample publicity about the treatment of prisoners and the guarantee of habeas
corpus (suspended by AI-5), “we will live the drama of attacks and denials” and
“reciprocal exaggerations.”42

The anti-torture campaign was carried out by human rights groups, journalists,
Church leaders, and Brazilian exiles who gave detailed accounts of the atrocities in
Brazil. These reports appeared in the foreign media and became grist for political
and legal action against the Brazilian government.“ Headlines about Brazil in the
United States, for example, frequently mentioned torture (Drosdoff 1986:86-87).
Because of censorship, such outside reports were often the only public source con-
cerning abuses in Brazil. The opposition tried to magnify the atrocities in order to
undermine the regime, whereas the government almost always downplayed them.
Muricy, bishops such as Dom Eugenio and Dom Vicente, and supporters of the
regime accurately pointed out that the foreign reports gave a distorted view of
Brazilian reality. But Alceu and the human rights activists also accurately demon-
strated to the world how torture destroyed Brazilian democracy.

Dom Eugénio’s anti-Communism and position as a top Church leader led him
to prefer the safeguarding of Brazil’s image, though without abandoning defense of
human rights. His and Alceu’s contrasting positions highlighted the competing
ideas about patriotism within the Church as it developed a new corpus of social
teachings and tended to split into the so-called conservative and progressive fac-
tions. As Dom Eugenio rose in the Church hierarchy, he had to distance himself
from his earlier, controversial work as a Church union organizer in the Northeast
(Tibor Sulik interview 2). Dom Eugénio’s embrace of hierarchy, order, and disci-
pline further informed his attitude. Nevertheless, his position, prudence, and pres-
tige before the armed forces made him a potential intermediary between the
Church and the generals.“

77

Prelude to the Bipartite

Indeed, Dom Eugenio believed in preserving the traditional Church-state rela-
tionship as a means of resolving disagreements. Especially in a dictatorship, he rea-
soned, conﬁdential channels worked best, while open protest could only serve to
irritate those in power. On this point he differed sharply with Dom Paulo and Dom
Hélder, who by 1970 had abandoned discretion to denounce torture. Thus, by his
own account, Dom Eugenio purposely cultivated a double image, “sacriﬁcing” one
in favor of the other: publicly he appeared by his silence to favor the repression, but
privately he worked against the mistreatment of alleged subversives.

Dom Eugenio did not come to this decision easily. He consulted Heraclito
Sobral Pinto, the highly respected conservative Catholic jurist who had defended
PCB leader Luis Carlos Prestes during the Estado Novo and vocally opposed the
1964 regime. Sobral Pinto urged Dom Eugenio to continue working quietly in order
to protect victims of the repression. Dom Eugénio’s double image convinced mili-
tary intelligence that he acted in an “ambiguous way, supporting the government
and the CNBB.” Regardless, no less a ﬁgure than Alceu recognized Dom Eugénio’s
contribution to human rights. In his September 1970 letter, Alceu thanked the
archbishop for contacting the authorities in an effort to free prisoners and stop
police abuse.45

Muricy and Sales: Remaking Brazil is Image

Dom Eugenio and General Muricy both worked to improve Brazil’s image. In
Brazil, Muricy used his power and the media to expose and interpret the dangers of
leftist inﬂuence among students, who supplied the guerrillas with a large number
of recruits. In his view the breakdown of traditional values among students swayed
by radical idols and ideas typiﬁed the psychological effects of revolutionary warfare
and threatened national security. Chief of Staff Muricy ordered three studies of
political prisoners (“terrorists,” in his words) held in jails across Brazil. Carried out
by military specialists assisted by professional psychologists, these studies
employed a battery of questions and tests and sought to deﬁne the social and psy-
chological proﬁles of subversives. Muricy revealed the outcome of this research to
the press in 1970, and in a widely publicized speech to the Association of Brazilian
Educators in 1971. In the process he made the important revelation that some ﬁve
hundred individuals accused of subversion were in prison. The majority were high
school and university students. Very impressionable, they had entered revolution-
ary movements inﬂuenced by radical inﬁltrators, professors, members of the oppo-
site sex, and their own idealism. Muricy’s diagnosis of their involvement echoed the
concerns of conservatives and government authorities in other Western countries

78

Prelude to the Bipartite

struggling to deal with student unrest and the “generation gap” of the late 1960s
and 1970s. Subversives were attacking Brazilian morals, religion, and the family
structure, Muricy stated. “Promiscuity” and “lack of hygiene” reigned at the famous
1968 student gathering in Ibiuna, Brazil’s attempted political Woodstock.“ One
congressman praised Muricy’s studies and recommended “occupational psy-
chotherapy” for young, middle-class individuals susceptible to the revolutionary
call.47 At the Bipartite, Muricy told the bishops that drug abuse was another cause
of student radicalism“ (although in reality the revolutionary left strictly rejected
drug usage).

A number of the tested prisoners stated that abuses occurred in connection with
these ostensibly voluntary psychological examinations. They received guarantees
that the test results would not be revealed. During questioning, some were asked
about their reactions to torture. Those who I‘€fUS€d to cooperate were intimidated
with the threat of further torture. Given the many violations of human rights that
occurred in Brazilian prisons at the time, the prisoners’ afﬁrmations are credible,
though it is unclear whether General Muricy knew of these abuses.49

General Muricy also worked on the international front. For instance, in 1972 he
published a long article in a German military journal praising Brazil’s Army and its
stance against Communism. The article argued that foreign journalists who “do not
understand Brazil” falsely distorted the country’s image. Communists and “bad
Brazilians” betrayed their homeland by presenting to Europeans and North
Americans a picture of a completely militaristic and antidemocratic regime that
promoted only “genocide, torture, and the restriction of human rights.” On the con-
trary, Muricy wrote, Brazil was a nation in evolution with a “strong people,” a grow-
ing economy, and an army that recruited its soldiers from all sectors of society.
Furthermore, the Revolution of 1964 was “bloodless”; Brazil spent relatively little
per capita on its armed forces; and most military members of the government were
not active duty officers, but retired. “By the year 2000 this country should have an
effectively developed, democratic, and sovereign society that assures the economic,
social, and political viability of Brazil as a great power,” Muricy conc1uded.5°

Dom Eugenio cooperated with Muricy. After a visit to Pope Paul VI, Dom
Eugenio reported to the general in early May 1970 that he had tried to “neutralize”
the foreign media’s reportage of a “great religious persecution.” The cardinal gave
positive interviews to the European press and met with Ambassador Jobim and
Brazil’s envoys to Belgium and Italy. In a letter to Muricy, Dom Eugenio relayed a
message from the pope to the Brazilian government denying that information dam-
aging to Church-state relations had come from the nunciature in R1051

79

Prelude to the Bipartife

Dom Eugenio also made it starkly clear, however, that he knew of abuses and
that the government could redeem itself only by stopping them. “I maintained
many contacts, trying to reestablish the truth,” Dom Eugenio wrote. “Unfortu-
nately, I believe that this will only be possible on a deﬁnitive basis with the sup-
pression of torture and greater knowledge of that very situation.” In fact, Dom
Eugenio had already proposed to Muricy a “private investigation” that, presumably
under the auspices of the Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission in Rome or even
of the pontiff himself, could shed light on this “situation” of torture. While in
Rome, Dom Eugenio did not pursue the matter because Muricy had not given the
“green light.”

The archbishop further noted the “very bad impression” left by the regime’s
publication of prosecution documents in the case of the thirty-two priests in Belo
Horizonte who were accused of violating national security for their protests of the
death of student Edson Luis. “If it hadn’t been published by someone in the Army,
I would have supposed that it was the work of subversives wanting to augment the
friction between the government and the Church,” Dom Eugenio wrote. He also
complained to Muricy about the regime’s decision to obstruct the entrance of for-
eign missionaries into Brazil.”

Immediately after Dom Eugénio’s private warnings about torture, the bishops
increased their public denunciations. Dom Eugenio had assisted greatly in this
process by prompting Candido Mendes to investigate and verify the existence of
abuses. Candido Mendes accepted only those complaints for which the victim and

two witnesses were willing to sign an affidavit. Despite the rigorous and risky

requirements, Candido Mendes documented thirteen cases in Rio alone. He took
note of dozens of other reports made by the parents, friends, and lawyers of politi-
cal prisoners. At the CNBB’s Eleventh General Assembly in Brasilia, Candido
Mendes presented his information to the bishops. The episcopate as a whole faced
hard proof of atrocities.“ The evidence was crucial in convincing the bishops to
become more critical of the regime. They issued a sharp condemnation of violence,
torture, and the wrongs of the military justice system.54 In Paris on May 26, 1970
Dom Hélder brought further bad publicity with his aforementioned speech
denouncing torture.

Nevertheless, during another trip to Rome in June 1970, Dom Eugenio contin-
ued his “discrete but intense” work to “remake the true face of Brazil.” In a July let-
ter informing Muricy of these efforts, the cardinal requested information from the
general to help refute potential criticism of Brazil in an upcoming meeting of the
Peace and Justice Commission. Dom Eugénio’s fears were based on documents cir-

80

Prelude to the Bipartite

Dom Eugenio de Arazijo Sales (right), the archbishop of Salvador and primate of Brazil, estab-
lished a solid friendship with President Médici (left) but rejected the regimes excessive anti-

Communism and its use of torture.

culating in Brazil that presumably criticized the human rights situation. To assist
the cardinal, General Muricy turned to Army intelligence. The ﬁle he received from
the CIE brings the cardina1’s concerns into focus. It contained a rundown of accu-
sations of subversion against ﬁve professors from the Instituto Brasileiro de
Desenvolvimento (IBRADES; Brazilian Development Institute), the Jesuit study
center where Dom Aloisio was detained months later. Among the ﬁve was Father
Meneses, who had been arrested six years earlier by order of General Muricy. The
suspects had links to grassroots organizations, the student movement, Marxist
university professors, and Paulo Freire. A note from an Army Ministry ofﬁcial
assured General Muricy that the documentation would give Dom Eugenio “abun-
dant resources to rebut the accusations of our detractors.” Ably used, the informa-
tion would “lend great service to Brazil, particularly if we consider the opposing
attitude of our other known ‘prelate.’” This was a clear reference to Dom Hélder.55

Dom Eugénio closed by thanking General Muricy for helping to establish a con-
nection with President Médici. While serving as papal legate to the Eighth National
Eucharistic Congress in Brasilia at the end of May 1970, Dom Eugenio had been

81

Prelude to the Bipartite

received by the president with honors appropriate for a chief of state. Medici also
met with the top bishops of the CNBB, who declared that “the Catholic Church will
continue collaborating with the government, openly and faithfully, in all that is
concerned with the welfare of the Brazilian people.” The ceremonious attention to
the episcopate softened the impact of the CNBB’s statement against torture.
Indeed, government officials were optimistic that Dom Eugénio’s encounter with
Médici had signaled greater Church—state understanding. “I believe that we have
established a solid friendship,” Dom Eugenio said in his letter to Muricy. “Upon
returning from Rome, I wrote him [Médici] and sent a conﬁdential, private mes-
sage from the Holy Father. ”5“

Conclusion

Shaped by torture and Church—state conﬂict, the struggle over Brazil’s image
was a central part of the larger conﬂict between the Médici government and the
opposition. Dom Eugenio and Vatican officials sought a balance between the
Church’s duty to preach social justice and the need to maintain friendly relations
with the largest Catholic nation on earth. In the world of diplomacy, perception
was often more important than the actual facts of torture. Factors such as patriot-
ism, the institutional needs of the Church, and ecclesiastical politics ﬁltered how
torture was to be interpreted. As one Italian priest familiar with Brazil noted, its
bishops spoke with one voice in Brazil and with another when outside the coun-
try.57

Dom Eugenio embodied the tensions and contradictions of the era. As a pastor
he reserved the right to criticize the regime’s abuses and inadequacies, but as a
politician he worked with General Muricy in an attempt to patch over Church-
military differences. Their efforts helped to keep Church—state relations in Brazil
civil and prevented a worsening in relations with the Vatican, whose word carried
great weight with the regime and the average Brazilian. As one observer in Rome
noted in October 1971, the key diplomatic gestures of Dom Eugenio and others
overrode the reports of the Peace and Justice Commission and made the Vatican’s
opinion of the military regime more favorable.” However, episcopal diplomacy
would become more difficult as conﬂict increasingly involved the hierarchy. This
became shockingly evident after the invasion of IBRADES and the arrest of Dom
Aloisio Lorscheider in October 1970.

82

Chapter 5 Dialogue in the Shadows

The Creation and Function of the Bipartite

mm 1970 to 1974, the Bipartite met regularly in an attempt
to avoid worse Church—state conﬂict. By most accounts the
dialogue produced a no-holds—barred exchange of ideas,
accusations, and counteraccusations between the bishops

 

. and the ofﬁcers. By channeling conﬂict into talk, the Bipar-
tite reduced Church—state tensions. At the same time the discussions
highlighted each side’s stubborn adherence to its basic positions.
This chapter sets the stage for the next ﬁve chapters’ examination of
the debates by providing crucial background on the Bipartite’s cre-
ation and operation. The chapter discusses the events and trends
that shaped the formation of the commission; the struggle between
General Muricy and other regime oﬂicials over its continuing; the
individuals and institutions involved in its foundation and the
importance of elite political culture in this process; its structure,
membership, and procedures; and the role of secrecy and intelli-
gence—gathering in its activities.

The Bipartite provided for a formal dialogue that was as informal
as possible. General Muricy was the ideal choice to oversee this
urgent yet often ambiguous task. He represented the core of the
Revolution and held immense power within the Army. On the verge
of mandatory retirement, he was about to lose his ability to issue for-
mal orders, but his prestige would preserve his inﬂuence. At the
Bipartite he represented the government—but to what extent? The

' answer was purposely left in the penumbra of the regime. Coupled
with cold war suspicion, the uncertainty led some wary individuals
in both the Church and the military to see the Bipartite as an oppor-
tunity not only for dialogue but also for intelligence and political
purposes.

33

Dialogue in the Shadows

The Tripartite Encounters and Other Attempts at Dialogue

Dialogue in and of itself was not the novelty of the Bipartite. Dialogue was part
of the Church’s historical political repertoire. In the years immediately following
Vatican II, the importance of dialogue increased, and it seemed quite logical for the
bishops to talk with the military regime. From 1964 to 1970, traditional forms of
negotiation and cooperation had continued. In fact, through the early Médici years
both sides went to great length to project an aura of good relations (Alves 1979:2o1),
and the bishops continually spoke of the need for collaboration and dialogue
(Bernal 1989:142—51).1 In late 1967 and early 1968, for instance, Dom Avelar worked
for the creation of a high-level Church-state commission to study the causes of civil-
religious conﬂict. The bishop met with high government ofﬁcials, including Costa
e Silva. However, the government rejected the plan as military hard-liners argued
for controls over the clergy and even over the bishops.” Nevertheless, Dom Avelar’s
idea planted the seed for the Bipartite. In early 1970 Ambassador Jobim proposed
that the Ministry of Foreign Relations establish an assistant for ecclesiastical affairs
as a channel of communication with the bishops at the national level. Later that
year Cardinal Baggio, the former nuncio, asserted in an interview in Italy that the
Brazilian Church and state “know that they cannot do without each other in the
search for the common goal of the country’s development.”3

Only weeks after the decree of AI-5, businessmen, military ofﬁcers, and clergy-
men held a series of informal meetings aimed at reducing Church-state strife.
Underwritten by entrepreneurs, the so—called Tripartite Encounters looked to build
mutual understanding and reduce tensions among the three sectors. A representa-
tive of each sector presented its history, goals, methods of recruitment and
operation, social contributions, and political difﬁcultiesf’ The Tripartite lapsed,

I but after the attack on IBRADES, Colonel Octavio Costa suggested it be resurrect-

ed to give the Church “a more correct picture” of the Communist threat to Bra-
zil. The Tripartite reﬂected the unsuccessful attempt by the regime to graft the
Church onto the new military—technocratic establishment, which increasingly
viewed the clergy as unnecessary for organizing the most modern sectors of
Brazilian society?

At about this time, the progressive Dom Hélder expressed a similar desire for
Church-state cooperation. At ﬁrst neutral about the coup, he subsequently became
the frequent target of conservative Catholics and military hard-liners. He neverthe-
less maintained contact with several ofﬁcers and continued to hold considerable
goodwill toward the regime. He counseled some of his followers to end their “anti-

34

Dialogue in the Shadows

military prejudices.” Incredibly, he was also at ﬁrst neutral about AI-5. He even
believed it could help in the “combat against corruption” and the accomplishment
of social reform. Dom Hélder proposed that dialogue with key military ofﬁcials
could contribute to “development and peace” as well as “national security” and
“social order.”“ As some observers noted, Dom Hélder “emphasized that he would
rather work with the government than against it.”7 A

Turning Points Toward the Bipartite: The JOC and IBRADES Incidents

The attacks on the Catholic Youth Workers (JOC) and the Jesuit study center
(IBRADES) in the second half of 1970 precipitated the Bipartite. These incidents
highlighted the arbitrariness of regime violence and the resultant damage to
Church-state relations. In September and October 1970, agents jailed and tortured
numerous militants and priests in a sweep against JOC, a progressive group
intensely involved with the poor and working class. In Rio, JOC priests and lay mil-
itants were particularly active at the Morro de S50 Carlos, a favela near downtown.
The JOC national headquarters were located there, and across the street stood a res-
idence of nuns that was also invaded by the police. Father Agostinho Pretto and
other JOC priests had developed a close relationship with the 3510 Carlos commu-
nity, some of whose members were temporarily detained during the sweep.8 In the
process of this operation, agents from the Rio DOPS and the First Army invaded
IBRADES, which trained Jocistas and other grassroots activists and served as a
CNBB think tank. The agents roughed up several important Jesuits, including
Father Pedro Belisario Velloso Rebello, the provincial head of the Jesuit order, and
Father Ormindo Viveiros de Castro, the president of the Pontificia Universidade
Catélica do Rio de Janeiro (PUC-RJ; Pontiﬁcal Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro).
The soldiers also ransacked the fathers’ private rooms in search of subversive writ-
ings, including those of the center’s director, Father Fernando Bastos de Avila, an
intellectual who earlier was considered by the generals to head the Ministry of
Education and was seen by some in the regime as a strong anti—Communist, an
“anti—Dom Hélder.”9 Father Avila later protested angrily to the commander of the
attack. The ofﬁcer responded, “I don’t have diplomats to do this work. I have sol-
diers” (Father Avila interview).

Worst of all for Church-state relations, the security men detained the CNBB’s
secretary general, Dom Aloisio, and held him incommunicado for more than four
hours. Dom Aloisio was an unthreatening moderate who did not belong to the
group of outspoken bishops persecuted by the military as a radical fringe element.

35

Preface

This is the story of Brazil’s Bipartite Commission, an effort by
Roman Catholic bishops and generals to overcome Church-state con-
ﬂict during the military dictatorship of 1964-1985. The Bipartite and
other, related dialogues took place in secrecy, in the shadows of a
government that maintained a facade of democracy while cracking
down on opponents with the help of troops, spies, and torturers. The
Bipartite met from 1970 to 1974—during the period known in Brazil
as the arms de chumbo, the “leaden years” of the worst repression (see,
for example, the excellent collection of military interviews in
D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro 1994a). The history of the Bipartite pro-
vides a new understanding of how ecclesiastical-military relations

developed while the Roman Catholic Church acquired its famed role ,

as the “voice of the voiceless” against the inequities and atrocities of
the dictatorship. It is a story of ideological debate, accusation and
counteraccusation, and political compromise involving the competi-
tion between Brazil’s two leading institutions in their bids to inﬂu-
ence society. The story is also about the politics of human rights,
including the struggle over proof and denial of the existence of tor-
ture. Underlying the story is the tension between power and faith.
Out of these pages emerges the age-old question: when and how does
one talk with an adversary?

Starting with the Russian Revolution in 1917, and especially after
1945, the world was rent by the struggle between Communism and
capitalism, East and West. In the 1960s and 1970s, the cold war
caused intense political polarization throughout Latin America,
leading to the formation of yet another (and perhaps not the last)
wave of authoritarian states. This polarization had enormous impact
on institutions and ideology. In Brazil the armed forces viewed them-

ix

Dialogue in the Shadows

In fact, the incident caused him to miss a meeting with Alfredo Buzaid, Médici’s
archconservative Minister of Justice.

The protests against the attacks on JOC and IBRADES uniﬁed the Church in its
denunciation of human rights violations and authoritarian rule.1° The country’s
ﬁve mostly conservative cardinals protested in a letter to Médici deploring the
“deterioration” of Church-state ties. Dom Aloisio’s detention was “unprecedented
in the republican history of Brazil,” they stated. The CNBB leadership also
denounced the raid. It criticized Communism but defended the Church’s social
policies and declared that “the terrorism of subversion must not be met with the
terrorism of repression.”” Because of press censorship, however, few people in
Brazil learned of the JOC arrests or of the detention of Dom Aloisio.

Protest overseas was more important and produced a near diplomatic disas-
ter for the regime. In Europe thousands of Jocistas demonstrated in the streets;
they jammed the telephone lines and inundated the mailboxes of Brazil’s embassies
with protests (Alves 19792205). In Rome, Vatican Radio and the official newspaper
L’Osser1/atore Romano joined the chorus of criticism against the repression, and the
paper published the CNBB’s statement. Pope Paul VI declared his support for the
Brazilian Church and condemned the use of torture. These reactions further taint-
ed Brazil’s image as a violator of human rights and angered the hypersensitive gen-
erals. Although President Médici was reportedly irritated by his subordinates’
actions in the IBRADES episode, he attributed the country’s worsening image to
“bad Brazilians.”12

From September through November 1970, the bishops used their prestige to the
hilt in trying to locate the imprisoned clergymen and lay militants, but they became
increasingly frustrated as ofﬁcials at all levels gave them the runaround. Priests,
bishops, cardinals——even Dom Jaime, the conservative cardinal and a great friend
of the military—met with Colonels, generals, and Justice Minister Buzaid but
received little or only contradictory information about the prisoners and no indi-
cation as to when they would be released. Dom Alberto Trevisan, a highly respect-
ed former military chaplain with excellent contacts in the armed forces and the
SNI, also made no progress.” With great effort they learned that the JOC arrests
had been carried out by DOPS ofﬁcers on orders from the First Army,“ and that the
investigation took place at the feared DOI-CODI, one of Rio’s torture centers.“ On
October 1, 1970, Dom Jaime spoke of a “war against the Church.” The next day he
met with General Médici in the Laranjeiras Palace, the presidential residence in
Rio. The meeting came at the suggestion of Dom Lucas Moreira Neves, who, as
CNBB national secretary for lay affairs, was responsible for the work and welfare of

86

Dialogue in the Shadows

the beleaguered JOC. He accompanied Dom Jaime. Médici listened politely, took
notes, but agreed only to correspond with Dom Lucas.“ “Twenty-one days after the
ﬁrst arrests and despite our efforts, searches, and long waits in antechambers, we
still do not have the least indication as to who ordered the arrests, for what motives,
or where the detainees are located,” Dom Lucas wrote to Médici the same day,
adding that, once again, Brazil appeared to the world as a place of “true persecution
of the Church.”17 The records indicate that Médici did not respond. The cardinals’
protest of Dom Aloisio’s detention was also unsuccessful.

The bishops continued their private contacts with government officials in the
attempt to aid the Jocistas and to calm the growing Church—state crisis. Dom
Aloisio met with Justice Minister Buzaid twice, leading the proregime newspaper O
Estado de S670 Paulo to deny the existence of a crisis. Foreshadowing the Bipartite,
the paper reported that the government would “examine all problems that might
make the relationship more difﬁcult, including the study of individual cases.”
Immediately thereafter Dom Eugenio, Dom Vicente, and twenty other bishops
allowed Julio de Rosen, a special envoy from President Médici, to sit in on their
deliberations before they penned the CNBB Central Commission’s stern mid-
October protest of the IBRADES assault.“ The bishops believed all hopes for
understanding had been exhausted, however.” Finally, President Médici autho-
rized Dom Vicente, accompanied by ofﬁcers, to visit the priests jailed at DOI-
CODI, but not the lay militants. The bishops nearly refused this meager conces-
sion.2° By mid-November human rights lawyer Heleno Fragoso had still not
received permission to visit his clients, leading him to bring suit in the military
courts against First Army commander General Sizeno Sarmento for violation of the
regime’s own rules on political prisoners.“ The priests were ﬁnally released on
November 22 and the lay militants thereafter.

After the Jocistas’ release, the bishops met privately with Father Pretto and oth-
ers to hear their personal accounts of torture at DOI—CODI. Dom Vicente Scherer
asked Father Pretto if he would repeat his story on television. The priest consented,
but only if the cardinal agreed to appear with him.” The broadcast did not take
place; nor would the military have permitted it.

As the Jocistas concluded in an internal report, the naked truth was that the
bishops had no power of persuasion with a military bent on stamping out the
slightest hint of subversion. Fearful of being associated with the revolutionaries,
naively conﬁdent of the religious sentiment of the generals, and accustomed to
social privilege, the bishops had taken years to understand the violent nature of the
regime, which the Jocistas and other grassroots militants had known all too well

37

Dialogue in the Shadows

from the horrors of the jails. The bishops came to this realization only after the
detention of Dom Aloisio “directly wounded” the bishops, forcing them “to take up
a position of defense.” This defense, however, failed to extend beyond the Church
to “all men who ﬁnd themselves in the same situation and with the same ideals.”
Moreover, the episcopate showed little interest in the ]OC movement, which many
bishops viewed with suspicion. After all that had happened, the hierarchy still
hoped for “conciliation” with the government.”

Yet the ]OC and IBRADES incidents marked a turning point, precisely because
they exposed the cardinals and other top bishops directly to the repression and
deepened their distrust of the government. The military misled the bishops in
exactly the same way it did the relatives of jailed, disappeared, and dead political
opponents: bouncing the clergy up and down the martial hierarchy and from one
installation to another in a fruitless, weeks—long search for the prisoners. Mean-
while, Médici and top generals could wash their hands of the affair by claiming
ignorance of their subordinates’ actions. The message was ﬁnally sinking in that a
signiﬁcant part of the military no longer respected the Church.

Neither bishops nor generals could explain away such an incident as just a mere
misunderstanding to be pinned on subversives or smoothed over with polite letters
or a téte-a-téte. More systematic conﬂict resolution was needed. “The time has
come for us to sit down at the table for an earnest dialogue,” declared Dom Avelar
Brandao Vilela, soon to become Brazil’s archbishop primate. “In order to solve all
of our problems we need to know frankly what is interfering in our relations, or else
conﬂicts could multiply indeﬁnitely.”24

The Birth of the Bipartite

The Bipartite was a fresh start. It differed substantially from previous efforts at
dialogue in several ways: duration, secrecy, the novelty of including intelligence
ofﬁcers, its overall systematic nature, and intensity of debate on themes of vital
interest to both sides. Several key ﬁgures contributed to the commissions founda-
tion, in addition to the link between General Muricy and Dom Eugenio.” The most
important were Tarcisio Meirelles Padilha and Candido Mendes. These members
of the carioca Catholic elite had sharp ideological disagreements but shared a con-
cern for the welfare of the clergy and Church-state relations.

Padilha’s father was a powerful archconservative. Like Justice Minister Buzaid,
the elder Padilha had been a prominent Integralista in the 1930s. Whereas former
Integralistas such as Dom Hélder moved left, in the 1960s strident conservative

88

Dialogue in the Shadows

From lg’? to right: Tarcisio Padilha, General Arnaldo fose’ Calderari, Muricy, and Guanabara
governor Chagas Freitas at Muric)/s induction as ADESG president, January 1971. Padilha
helped start the Bzpartite by introducing Muricy to Candido Mendes.

remnants of this group entered strongly anti-Communist, right—wing Catholic
organizations, where they worked to undermine the progressives (see Antoine
1980). They shared the conservative military’s fear of social upheaval. In 1964
Raimundo Padilha joined the conspiracy against Joao Goulart and then served as
the progovernment party’s majority leader in the Chamber of Deputies. From 1971
to 1975, he governed the state of Rio de Janeiro. Following a strong CNBB denunci-
ation of torture and other forms of terror in early 1970, Raimundo Padilha joined
the chorus of regime supporters who denied the existence of political prisoners and

39

Dialogue in the Shadows

claimed the existence of an international conspiracy to defame Brazil (Della Cava
1985:140).

Tarcisio Padilha shared this outlook, yet he also subtly distinguished himself
from the archconservatives and military hard-liners. On the one hand, he clearly
established himself as an apologist for the regime. He had graduated from the ESG
in 1969 and become a member of its teaching staff. He also served in the govern-
ment as a member of the Federal Education Council and as president of the Special
Commission for Moral Education and Civics. In a book ﬁnished just weeks before
the start of the Bipartite, he excoriated the left, attacked “subversive” literature and
university professors, deﬁned Brazilian revolutionaries as “terrorists,” and doubt-
ed the existence of torture. He also criticized the “participation of priests in sub-
versive movements” and the “theology of violence” (Padilha 1971:195—21o). On the
other hand, Padilha was an intellectual interested in interpreting Brazilian reality,
fostering the country’s socioeconomic development, and creating a political open-
ing. By this time he had already gained international recognition as one of Brazil’s
leading Catholic philosophers and educators. He pushed for a greater emphasis on
the humanities at ESG and, risking reprisal, criticized the philosophical material-
ism of the regime’s development strategy as well as its exaggerated stress on securi-
ty and technocracy. As a Catholic he also viewed with great concern the Positivist
ideas that he believed still inﬂuenced military action. A ﬁrm believer in the need for
strong institutions, the younger Padilha feared that the growing friction between
Church and state would lead to an outright rupture of Brazil’s two most important
and best-organized institutions. He believed it was his duty to help avoid such a
rupture and thus prevent further social unrest.” Padilha saw the Church as a “polit-
ical force” that should work toward the social betterment of Brazilians, albeit with-
out interfering with the government. Yet Padilha also perceived the Church as
divided over the question of social activism (Padilha 1975285, 89-90).

Candido Mendes’s broad background eminently qualiﬁed him to bridge the gap
between clergy and military. He rose to importance in the Brazilian Church as the
descendant of the nineteenth-century senator whose wife and sons received a papal
title of nobility for the senator’s devotion to the Church, including the defense of
bishops against the Empire. Candido Mendes inherited this title, though he never
used it.” But Candido Mendes was an intellectual, educator, public official, and
leader in his own right. At the age of ﬁfteen he wrote a biography of his great-grand-
father (Almeida 1943). He ﬁrst became involved in politics while studying law and
philosophy at the PUC-R]. In 1948 he became the secretary general of the highly
active and politicized Uniao Nacional dos Estudantes (UNE; National Union of

90

Dialogue in the Shadows

Students). He also joined the JUC, a group that radicalized in the 1960s before being
repressed by both the Church hierarchy and the regime. In the 1950s he helped
organize the ISEB, a nationalistic think tank within the Ministry of Education,
which advised the government on questions of development. As an advisor to
President Quadros, Candido Mendes established ties with General Golbery, the
leading ESG ideologue, secretary of Quadros’s National Security Council, and even-
tual founder of the SNI. In 1965, he organized a private meeting at his home
between Robert Kennedy and leading Brazilian intellectuals to discuss human
rights violations in Brazil. In the mid-1960s he was also a visiting professor
at Harvard, at Columbia, and at the University of California, Los Angeles. In the
United States, he spoke out on the political situation in Brazil. In the Church
Candido Mendes worked as an assistant to Dom Hélder, helping him prepare
for Vatican II. Candido Mendes’s experience brought him to the CNBB under-
secretaryship for social affairs in 1969, the leadership of the CJP-BR, and ﬁnally
to membership on the Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission in Rome. In 1971
he also acted as an advisor to the synod of bishops held in Rome to discuss
the theme “Justice in the World.”28 Candido Mendes was also the brother of
Father Luciano Mendes de Almeida, an intelligent and politically able Jesuit who
became a bishop in 1976, the CNBB’s secretary general in 1979, and its president
in 1987.

Candido Mendes stood on the left. He advocated nationalist developmentalism
(Almeida 1959, 1963, 1973 et al.), believed that the United States hindered this, and
urged intellectuals to take the lead in producing Latin American progress (Almeida
1972). He also embraced Catholic progressivism. His 1966 book on the Catholic left,
Memento dos vivos (Memento of the living), was criticized by elements of the mili-
tary and conservative Catholics (Almeida 1966a). Candido Mendes came under
investigation on several occasions because of his ties to ISEB (abolished by the
regime), progressive clergymen, and opposition intellectuals and politicians. In
1968 the DOPS-GB identiﬁed him as a member of the “Intellectual Command” of
the student movement.” In 1972 he wrote a perceptive essay that recognized the

regime’s economic achievements but also its narrow-mindedness and inability to I

escape “the trap of its own logic” of repression (Almeida 1977:1o3).

, Nevertheless, Candido Mendes’s prestige, connections, and elite status allowed
him to work largely unhindered and to travel in opposing political circles. While
orchestrating the Bipartite, he became one of the principal proponents of descom-
pressao (decompression), or political liberalization. Descompressao led to abertu-
rain the Geisel and Figueiredo administrations. Candido Mendes worked to pro-

91

Dialogue in the Shadows

mote it at the highest levels of the government, and he emphasized the importance
of giving the opposition a role in the process (Almeida 1977:1o3—o4). At his behest,
in 1972 the chief of Médici’s civilian presidential staff, Joao Leitao de Abreu, began
internal discussions about liberalization. Candido Mendes used his friendship with
José Guilherme Merquior, one of Brazil’s greatest political philosophers and an aide
to Leitao de Abreu, to establish contact with this “Viceroy” for political matters. In
1973 Candido Mendes convinced Leiteio de Abreu to discuss liberalization with
Harvard University political scientist Samuel Huntington, a specialist on Third
World military politics. Huntington also met with Finance Minister Antonio
Delﬁm Netto. The conversations stirred debate about decompression in the gov-
ernment and the opposition, and for a while Leitao de Abreu pushed the notion of
a civilian (potentially himself) as successor to Médici in order to “demilitarize” the
regime.” These discussions carried on as president-designate General Ernesto
Geisel prepared his own plans for liberalization.

Padilha’s ties to Candido Mendes and Muricy made him a go-between in the for-
mation of the Bipartite. Padilha and Candido Mendes had known each other since
the mid-1940s, when they studied at the Colégio Santo Inacio, the prestigious Jesuit
school that educated many members of the twentieth-century carioca elite. They
continued together in the philosophy program at the PUC-R]. A former classmate
of Muricy’s ﬁrst son, Padilha had strong links to the general. The two had known
each other since 1944, and Muricy served as a padrinho, or godfather, at Padilha’s
marriage (Padilha interview 1). Padilha’s membership in the Centro Dom Vital,
gave him access to Rio’s ecclesiastical hierarchy. Thus he became an important col-
laborator of Dom Eugenio after the Cardinals transfer to Rio in 1971 (Candido
Mendes interview 1).

The detention of Dom Aloisio prompted the formation of the Bipartite. Padilha
took Candido Mendes and IBRADES director Father Avila to meet Muricy. To
“straighten out” the situation the general called in the security agent who had led
the attack.“ Meeting with Dom Aloisio in mid-October, Muricy promised a solu-
tion to the crisis, although the priests and pastoral agents still remained incommu-
nicado. At about this time the CNBB agreed to participate in the commission.” As
Candido Mendes proposed to Muricy, the idea of holding periodic encounters
could help to resolve Church-state difﬁculties “in a more efficient manner” (Muricy
1993:66o).

On November 3, 1970, the ﬁrst meeting of the Bipartite Commission took place
at the Jesuit fathers’ retreat house in the Gévea district of Rio de Janeiro. Organized
by General Muricy and Candido Mendes, it brought together military ofﬁcers and

92

Dialogue in the Shadows

Brazil’s most important ecclesiastics in the hopes of reducing Church-state ten-
sions. Dom Vicente Scherer, cardinal—archbishop of Porto Alegre and president of
the CNBB, headed the Church delegation, referred to by the military as the Grupo
Religioso. He was joined by Candido Mendes, Dom Eugenio, Dom Aloisio, and
Dom Avelar, Dom Eugénio’s eventual successor as archbishop-primate. Muricy
brought representatives of key military, ideological, and political sectors of the
regime: General Adolpho Joao de Paula Couto, head of the psychological warfare
section in the office of the Army chief of stafﬁ Colonel Omar Diogenes de Carvalho,
chief of the Rio ofﬁce of the SNI; Padilha; and Dantas Barreto, assistant to Justice
Minister Buzaid and a participant in the ESG program. The military called its own
contingent the Grupo da Situagao (the group in power), a name later changed to
Grupo Leigo (lay group).

Candido Mendes and Dom Eugenio called for a descompressao in Church-state
relations. Both sides readily agreed on the need to improve Church-state dialogue
and collaboration. “Church-government relations should be centralized at the
highest level,” Padilha asserted. This dialogue should be “permanent,” Dom Aloi—
sio added.”

The only discordant note came from Barreto, who reacted strongly to Candido
Mendes’s proposal for cooperation in the ﬁeld of economic development. Barreto
stated that the suggestion ignored the separation of Church and state in Brazil.
Church-state frictions had resulted from “undue incursions by men of the Church
into the temporal domain,” which Barreto considered the exclusive concern of the
state.“ Barreto nearly shipwrecked the Bipartite by repeating his assertions even
more vehemently at the second meeting.” It would be his last, for he was clearly out
of tune with General Muricy’s goal of dialogue and conciliation. Nevertheless, his
position echoed the hard-liners: the clergy should remain in the sacristy and leave
Brazil’s material progress to the government.

Despite Barreto’s outburst the Bipartite started auspiciously. The two sides
agreed to debate national security, the Church’s social doctrine, and development
policy. In the ﬁrst of its many postmeeting analyses (to which the bishops did not
have access), the Grupo da Situagao struck an optimistic chord. “The most impor-
tant elements of the Catholic hierarchy were present at the meeting and showed
themselves to be very open to dialogue,” the conclusions began. The Grupo da
Situacao formed a list of proposals to be studied by Médici and his advisors. The
ﬁrst and most important advocated continuation of the meetings. It also suggested
contact between bishops and security and intelligence agents at the regional level.
The Situagao further recommended the naming of a special presidential assistant

93

Dialogue in the Shadows

from either the SNI or the National Security Council to study “the problem of the
clergy and establish contacts with them when necessary.”35

Power Struggle over the Bipartite: Defining Representation

A political conciliator who delegated responsibility to others, President Médici
had initially approved Muricy’s Bipartite in the hopes of garnering Church sup-
port.37 However, after the ﬁrst meeting the commission met resistance in the
Planalto as questions emerged about its objectives and proposals. Both the head of
the military presidential staff, General I050 Baptista de Oliveira Figueiredo, and
SNI chief General Carlos Alberto Fontoura opposed the Bipartite. These were two
of the most powerful men of the authoritarian era. Figueiredo became head of the
SNI under President Ernesto Geisel and ultimately succeeded him in 1979. Under
Médici, Fontoura controlled the most important of the intelligence services.
Together with Leitao de Abreu, Figueiredo and Fontoura met regularly with Médici
and wielded great inﬂuence over the internal politics of the regime. General
Muricy, on the other hand, was leaving the government. He began mandatory
retirement on November 25, 1970, and in December he relinquished his post as
Army chief of staff.” He ultimately saved the commission, but the terms imposed
by Médici and his advisors kept its status as unofficial and ambiguous as possible
in order to avoid making concessions to the Church. This situation reﬂected the
tensions between hard-liners and moderates over how to deal with the opposition
and the bishops in particular.

In December Bipartite member General Paula Couto met with Figueiredo to
defend the Bipartite. Paula Couto learned that Figueiredo and Fontoura considered
the Bipartite incapable of bringing positive results for the regime. In his report to
the Grupo da Situacéio, Paula Couto noted that both men “naturally inﬂuenced”
Médici against the Bipartite. Moreover, Médici saw Dantas Barreto’s fulminating
speech to be the “only valid” words of the ﬁrst meeting. Clearly the president
favored a tough stance toward the Church. He rejected the proposal to extend the
Bipartite to the regional level. In Figueiredo’s eyes such additional contact could
“ofiicialize” government positions with respect to the Church—exactly the oppo-
site of the effect desired by Médici. The Bipartite, Figueiredo added, should not rep-
resent the government. For the same reason Médici rejected the request for a pres-
idential specialist on the clergy, although he permitted the SNI to serve as a gov-
ernment-Bipartite link by allowing a representative to continue at the meetings.
Paula Couto concluded:

94

Dialogue in the Shadows

President Medici ascending the ramp of the Palcicio do Planalto on his first day in oﬂice, October
31, 1969, with three of the most powerﬁrl men in his government: from left to right, SNI chief
General Carlos Alherto Fontoura, chief of civilian presidential staﬂjodo de Leitdo Abreu, Medici,
and chief of military presidential staﬁ General fodo Baptista de Oliveira Figueiredo. Fontoura
and Figueiredo opposed the Bipartite, whereas Leitdo de Ahreu explored a formula for liberaliza-
tion along with Candido Mendes.

The general impression that I got is that the President has not made a ﬁrm decision on
the problem as a whole and thinks that the matter must be better studied. At least this
is the impression clearly transmitted to me by General Figueiredo. . . . I tried to explain
that these meetings are the last chance to give the Catholic hierarchy the knowledge
necessary for understanding the connection between revolutionary warfare and the
corresponding need for SECURITY. . . . so that they ﬁnally comprehend that certain
actions of certain priests and bishops, which the hierarchy judges to be carried out in
obedience to the recommendations of Medellin, are in reality subversive acts.

With Figueiredds assent, Paula Couto urged General Muricy to meet immediately
with Médici “to deﬁne well the purpose of the encounters.”39
Muricy retained considerable inﬂuence. He was a friend and staunch supporter

95

Preface A

selves as defending traditional Western Christian civilization against subversion,
while sectors of the Church attempted to redeﬁne the Christian mission by experi-
menting with new emphases on peace, development, and social justice. These dif-
ferences produced deep conﬂict between the Church and the military.

This book is written as the world ‘adapts to the post—cold war order.
Polarization is gone, and with it the simple and attractive division between “left”
and “right” that suffused thinking on Latin America (Fagen 1995). After ﬁve hun-
dred years of their country’s history Brazilians today are engaged in a struggle
to strengthen democracy and the ideals of full citizenship and human rights for
all, a process that has bred much interest in the country’s authoritarian past. In
December 1995 the government began ofﬁcially recognizing the victims of the die-
tatorship and compensating their families. The writing of the history of the mili-
tary regime has also begun. Archives are opened, once forbidden stories told, new
interpretations offered. This book is part of the process of reassessment. Keeping
in sight the major political, social, and religious themes of the era, the book
explores the hidden dimension of dialogue and conciliation—the back channels of
contact always reserved for the powerful. No matter how strong the temptation,
history must not be seen in a Manichaean way but as conﬂicts among individuals
whose personalities and attitudes have been sculpted by numerous historical fac-
tors.

The story of the Bipartite stirs memories and controversies, challenges assump-
tions, and reveals secrets. In Brazil, it will undoubtedly spark debate within both
the armed forces and the Church, on both the left and the right, and among schol-
ars. I have approached the Bipartite as a professional historian, but also as one who
cares deeply about Brazil, its people, and its institutions. It is my hope that this
book will contribute to a greater understanding of one of Brazil’s most difﬁcult
periods and its legacy for Brazilians today.

Perhaps contrary to the academic canon, I have tried to write in a style accessi-
ble to a wide audience. I owe the inspiration for this goal to the late John Hersey, a
masterful teacher and friend whose course at Yale on nonﬁction writing taught me
that historians should strive to portray people in all their simplicity and complexi-
ty. I also thank Dennis Macura and Phyllis Williams for teaching the basics of the
craft of writing, and Richard W. Fox for introducing me to the passion of history.
Paul Bass was another source of inspiration.

This book is possible only because of the work of previous scholars of the
Brazilian Church and military regime. Three in particular have deeply inﬂuenced
my work, unselﬁshly provided encouragement and guidance, and opened doors in

X

Dialogue in the Shadows

of the president. Not only had Muricy helped navigate the armed forces through
the difficult transition from Costa e Silva to Médici in 1969; he had been the ﬁrst
officer to support Médici publicly for the presidency. In addition, Muricy had
maintained a close friendship with Army Minister Orlando Geisel since the two
met at the Military Academy in 1923. Like Muricy and Ernesto Geisel, Orlando also
had ties to Golbery.4° Orlando Geisel was more powerful than either Figueiredo or
Fontoura (D’Araujo and Castro 1997:22o—21). Upon leaving the Army, Muricy kept
a high political proﬁle by giving newspaper interviews and winning a nearly unan-
imous election to a two-year term of the presidency of the ADESG (ESG alumni
association), a ﬂagging organization that he aimed to resuscitate.“

Muricy met twice with Medici.“ He explained the goals of the Bipartite but also
added that he needed “credentials.” Médici approved the commission’s continuing,
and on his directive Muricy came to an agreement with the previously skeptical
Fontoura (Muricy 1993:66o). Muricy had prevailed. With Médici’s blessing he
acted on Bipartite matters as if still a commander, ordering high-level active duty
officers in the names of Army Minister Geisel and the president himself. An
exchange with General Milton Tavares, the extremist hard—liner who headed the
CIE, makes the point:

Muricy: Miltinho, do this.

Tavares: But General Muricy-

Muricy: Your commander [Geisel] told you to do it, and you are going to. Don’t ask
about the problem, you’re going to do it.43

Muricy met again with Médici after the second Bipartite meeting in January 1971.44

Yet despite Muricy’s connections it was never quite clear as to where the Grupo
da Situacao ﬁt into the nebulous web of the Médici administration nor to what
extent it represented the president. As Paula Couto’s report stated, Médici and his
top men wanted it this way. The regime aimed to control the clergy through the
bishops, but without losing its grip on Brazilian society. Thus while it hoped to
improve Church-state relations, the Médici administration did not want any formal
agreement or ties with the Grupo Religioso or with the CNBB. Dantas Barreto’s
point rang clear: the Church could expect no privileges.

The recollections of those who knew of the Bipartite attest to its importance for
dialogue but also its ambiguous status. On the side of the government, for instance,
General Fontoura believed that Muricy represented Médici. But Fontoura also
recalled that no formal link existed between the commission and the administra-
tion. Professor Padilha asserted that Muricy had the full backing of Médici. He

96

Dialogue in the Shadows

emphasized that the commission’s goal was to create dialogue as an alternative to
the hard-liners’ opposition to the Church. Candido Mendes’s assessment was dif-
ferent but not inconsistent. In Mendes’s view, Muricy’s efforts exempliﬁed how the
old guard of generals sought to reduce the excesses of the younger hard-liners, yet
Muricy’s effectiveness was reduced because he had lost power upon retirement and
therefore was not an “insider” in the Médici government. Likewise Dom Eugenio
stressed Muricy’s opposition to human rights abuses but afﬁrmed that intraregime
struggles caused doubts as to who really controlled the government.

General Muricy, of course, believed he had Médici’s support, but even he
seemed unsure as to what he stood for at the Bipartite. “I was nobody’s representa-
tive,” Muricy stated in his 1981 interview. “I presided over a commission that want-
ed to settle the problems with the Church. The bishops were also nobody. The
CNBB came to discuss problems with somebody who wanted to help. Oﬂicially
there is no record of anything.”45 This mixture of retrospectives also partially
explains the Bipartite’s secrecy.

The Men and Methods of the Bipartite

In all, the Bipartite met twenty-four times during the Médici administration
and the ﬁrst months of Ernesto Geisel’s presidency. Each encounter had a prede-
termined agenda. Many lasted an entire day. Additional special meetings also took
place, as did many informal contacts between elements of the two parties. The par-
leys with the nuncio, one—to-one meetings, and luncheons connected with the com-
mission revealed that it was but an extended network of negotiation. The many
types of contact illustrated how conciliation worked in the Brazilian elite, between
the Church and the armed forces, and between the Brazilian state and the Vatican’s
representatives. Table 1 below lists the dates, locales, and topics of the principal
meetings according to the reports available in General Muricy’s papers.

The discussions focused on conﬂict resolution in three broad areas. First, the
initial meetings in late 1970 and early 1971 aimed at lessening the ideological dis-
cord that had developed between Church and state since 1964. While the military
declared national security the duty of every Brazilian, the Church stressed a new
social doctrine based on the conclusions of Vatican II and the work of Catholic pro-
gressives such as Dom Hélder. The goal was mutual understanding. Second, the
commission adopted the Grupo da Situacads suggestion that the ﬁnal half of each
encounter focus on the solution of speciﬁc cases of Church-state friction. As the
repression and the regime’s political intransigence deepened, this aspect came to

97

Table ‘I. Bipartite Meetings and Related Gatherings, Rio de Janeiro

No. Date Locale Description/ Key lssues

1 Nov. 3, 1970 Jesuits’ Gavea Discussion of Medellin document and need for
retreat house "permanent dialogue" between Church and state.

2 Jan. 9, 1971 Colégio Sagrado Discussion of Medellin document and V
Coracao de Jesus Communist revolutionary warfare.

— April 3, 1971 Hotel Excelsior Government-Church luncheon including General

Muricy, Joao Paulo dos Reis Veloso (Minister of
Planning), Antonio Dias Leite (Minister of Mines and
Energy), Chagas Freitas (governor, state of
Guanabara, and ally of Army Minister Geisel),
Mons. Joseph Grémillion (secretary general,
Pontifical Justice and Peace Commission), Dom
Umberto Mozzoni (apostolic nuncio), Dom Eugenio,
Dom Aloisio, Dom lvo. Discussion of social and
economic problems, national security, torture,
Church-state relations.

— April 5, 1971 Office of General Preparatory meeting of Grupo da Situacao
Muricy for third Bipartite.

3 April 28, 1971 Jesuits’ Gévea Discussion of national security, Church
retreat house social doctrine, priests accused of subversion.

4 July 1, 1971 Jesuits’ Gavea Discussion of Medellin document, positions of the
retreat house Pontifical Peace and Justice Commission (Rome),

human rights, alleged subversion in the Church,
social inequality.

5 Aug. 24, 1971 Sumaré (archbishop’s Documentation incomplete. On agenda: subversion,
retreat house) Church in the Amazon, national development.

6-14 1971 -1972 — No documentation available.

3 Late Jan. 1972 — No documentation available. Discussion of death of

soldiers from torture in Barra Mansa.

3 July 28, 1972 — No documentation available.

3 Aug. 31, 1972 CNBB headquarters Special informal meeting to defuse potentially
(Villa Venturoza, subversive activities by clergy during independence
Bairro da Gloria) sesquicentenary.

15 April 25, 1973 Official residence of Discussion of CNBB pronouncement on twenty-fifth
Vice Admiral Roberval, anniversary of U.N. Universal Declaration of
commandant of the Human Rights.

Marines, llha das
Cobras

16 May 30, 1973 CNBB headquarters Discussion of subversion, human rights, bishops’

statements.

17 July 25, 1973 CNBB headquarters Discussion of subversion in the Church, human rights.

98

(table 1 continued)

Dialogue in the Shadows

No. Date Locale Description/ Key Issues

18 Aug. 3, 1973 CNBB headquarters Special meeting to discuss pastoral letter by Dom
Fernando Gomes criticizing the government.

19 Aug. 29, 1973 CNBB headquarters Discussion of military pressure against bishops,
human rights, Church's religious competitors.

20 Sept. 26, 1973 CNBB headquarters Discussion of military pressure against bishops,
censorship, human rights.

21 Nov. 5, 1973 CNBB headquarters Discussion of Church criticisms of regime,
censorship, human rights.

22 March 24, 1974 CNBB headquarters Discussion of alleged subversion in the Church,
human rights, Church's institutional interests.

— May 29, 1974 Office of Preparatory meeting of Grupo da Situacao for

General Muricy twenty-third Bipartite.

23 May 29, 1974 CNBB headquarters Discussion of alleged subversion in the Church,
human rights, censorship, Church's institutional
interests.

-— Aug. 26, 1974 Office of Preparatory meeting of Grupo do Situacao for

General Muricy twenty-fourth Bipartite. Discussion of upcoming
CNBB election.
24 Aug. 26, 1974 CNBB headquarters Discussion of human rights, Church's institutional

interests.

Sources: FGV/CPDOC/ACM; Dom Waldyr interview (Jan. 1972 meeting).

overshadow, though not to eliminate, the initial concerns. It is signiﬁcant that, as a
way of maintaining its traditional position in Brazilian society, the Grupo Religioso
used the framework of conﬂict resolution to advance the Church’s doctrinal and
institutional interests. Third, over time the bishops increasingly sought to use the
Bipartite as a way to protest human rights abuses. Indeed, as the impetus to resolve
ideological discord waned, this issue became dominant.

By the twenty-ﬁrst meeting in November 1973, a certain dissatisfaction set in on
both sides. The bishops wanted greater responsiveness from the Grupo da Situacﬁo
on human rights. In Dom Aloisio’s words, the Bipartite needed to be more “objec-
tive.” Likewise, the Situagao believed that the Bipartite failed to provide adequate
solutions to the military’s problems with the clergy. In Padilha’s estimation the
commission had drifted away from cooperation and the original “study of princi-
ples” toward “an examination of quibbles [problemas casuz’s1.‘ic0s].” The two groups
agreed that the Bipartite was valuable but that it was also time to review their work
critically. In the next three meetings, they continued to address important issues,

99

Dialogue in the Shadows

Most of the secret Bipartite meetings took place at CNBB headquarters at the Villa Venturoza in
the Gloria district near downtown Rio defaneiro.

including the Church’s desire to collaborate with the incoming administration of
Ernesto Geisel. Geisel, however, wanted to deal with the Church through the tradi-
tional hierarchy rather than through the CNBB and ultimately abolished the
Bipartite.“ .

The dialogue was a curious amalgam of hard—nosed, often heated debate and the
cordiality and elite conciliation that traditionally marked Brazilian political and
social life. Harsh disagreement was at times followed by reconciliation over a meal
(Paciﬁco interview). Whereas, after 1964, the military viewed the clergy with
increasing anger and disdain, General Muricy brought to the Bipartite a long expe-
rience of devotion to traditional Catholicism and reverence for the bishops.
Bishops such as Dom Avelar displayed similar esteem for the prestige and authori-
ty of the armed forces. Such mutual respect was essential for any successful dia-

logue.

100

Dialogue in the Shadows

The Bipartite’s participants also shared the social and economic beneﬁts of
membership in Brazil’s elite. Although since the 1930s Brazil had been evolving
into a more dynamic society with new avenues of upward social mobility, people of
this level maintained many of the characteristics of the traditional Brazilian elite
that are still apparent even today. They typically did no manual work, had several
servants in the home, and shared a sense of family and hereditary status as the
determinants of their position and success. They stood apart from the masses and
identiﬁed strongly with European or North American ideas and culture. They also
valued social stability.” Moreover, the participants at the Bipartite were all male,
mainly light-skinned, and educated far beyond the Brazilian norm.

Neither side hesitated to attack the other’s positions, however. Directly facing
their opponents, the bishops often repeated their public criticisms of the regime.
Dom Ivo Lorscheiter in particular was outspoken. When General Muricy protested
Dom Ivo’s complaints about economic inequality under Médici, the bishop
responded that the people had “increasingly less” while the government tried to
impose a climate of “naive euphoria.” Economist Moacyr Gomes de Almeida, a
participant in the ESG program, asserted that salaries were rising. He argued that
naiveté and euphoria were necessary for mobilizing the populace in favor of devel-
opment.48 For its part the Grupo da Situagéio frequently warned the bishops about
subversive priests. Although openness generally prevailed, the Situagﬁo sought
additional, behind-the-scenes discussion with those members of the Grupo
Religioso it considered most trustworthy (see below). In effect, the Bipartite con-
stituted a new set of rules for elite dialogue in an authoritarian setting. The bishops
could criticize freely, but only as long as they did so in private.” In addition, Gomes
de Almeida’s unconcern about euphoria reﬂected the simultaneously assertive and
apologetic nature of the authoritarian regimes own public statements.

Table 2 describes the makeup of the Grupo Religioso. It is signiﬁcant that not
only bishops with ties to the military such as Dom Eugenio and Dom Vicente par-
ticipated in the Bipartite. (In fact, Dom Vicente attended only the ﬁrst two meet-
ings.) The moderately progressive Dom Aloisio attended more than any other
member of the group. In 1971 he defeated Dom Vicente for the presidency of the
CNBB. As president of the CNBB until 1979, Dom Aloisio supported the organiza-
tion’s increasingly activist agenda. His outspoken cousin Dom Ivo was another reg-
ular. The two were from Rio Grande do Sul, one of the most important centers of
Catholic progressivism. Dom Ivo had begun his episcopal career as an auxiliary
bishop to Dom Vicente in Porto Alegre but increasingly afﬁrmed his independence
to become one of the most respected leaders of the Brazilian episcopate. Dom Paulo

101

Dialogue in the Shadows

attended the Bipartite twice. On other occasions his archdiocese was represented
by Dom Lucas. Other important bishops and even the papal nuncio joined the
talks. One of the regulars was Dom Avelar, the CNBB vice president who would
attempt to unseat Dom Aloisio from the presidency in the 1974 election. The ideo-
logical mix of the Grupo Religioso reﬂected the episcopal solidarity achieved in the
face of the military threat by a Church otherwise split over how it should change in
the post—Vatican II era. The CNBB embodied that unity and spoke out on national
issues. This important representative role helps to explain the apparent contradic-
tion between the moderate and the progressive CNBB leaders’ skepticism toward
the regime and their dominance of the Bipartite. Of course, speciﬁc issues such as
institutional interests and human rights also drew the bishops to the commission.

Unity, however, did not produce uniform opinion about the Bipartite. Even
though they opposed the regime, some priests welcomed the talks as a ray of hope
at a moment when all possibility of dialogue had appeared doomed. In the evalua-
tion of this group, Muricy was open-minded and intelligent and had a vision of
society that went beyond the barracks (Aldo Vannucchi interview). Bishops,
priests, and pastoral agents of the radical Catholic left criticized the Bipartite
because they opposed contact with the enemy on principle and thought it counter-
productive (Marina Bandeira interview). Dom Pedro Casaldaliga and his priests
belonged to this group. Constantly assailed by the security forces, they feared that
the Bipartite allowed hypocritical generals to provide an image of dialogue among
leaders while ordering repression at the grass roots. They also mistrusted the more
conservative members of the Grupo Religioso (Dom Pedro Casaldéliga interview).
Other progressive priests believed that Muricy was little more than a “puppet” or
“doorman” of the Medici administration (Luiz Viegas interview 1). The Jocistas also
expressed deep skepticism about dialogue.

Within the Grupo Religioso itself the degree of commitment to the Bipartite
varied. For example, Dom Ivo disagreed with the existence of the commission and
became irritated with Candido Mendes’s repeated invitations to take part. Dom Ivo
had no faith whatsoever in the military. During the Médici years, people came to
the CNBB on almost a daily basis to denounce torture or to seek help in ﬁnding
missing loved ones. In fact, Dom Ivo believed that Candido Mendes compromised
the Church’s positions during the encounters.“

Candido Mendes’s prestige and persistence kept the dialogue alive. As a mem-
ber of the elite, he could be audacious, unconventional, even quixotic. He was fully
dedicated to serving the Church and seemed to believe that he had a historic role to
play in improving its relations with the state. And he envisioned a society in which

102

Dialogue in the Shadows

Table 2. The Grupo Religioso, in Order of Frequency of Appearance

Name

Positions

Dom Aloisio Lorscheider

Candido Antonio José Francisco
Mendes de Almeida
(Candido Mendes)

Dom José lvo Lorscheiter

Dom Avelar Brandao Vilela

Dom Lucas Moreira Neves

Dom Eugénio cle Araujo Sales
Dom Alfredo Vicente Scherer
Dom Fernando Gomes

dos Santos

Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns

Dom Alberto Gaudéncio Ramos

Dom Gilberto Pereira Lopes

Dom Umberto Mozzoni

Secretary general, CNBB, 1968-1971; CNBB president, 1971 -1979;
named archbishop of Fortaleza, 1973; appointed cardinal, 1976.

Secretary general, CJ P-BR; Latin American representative, Pontifical
Justice and Peace Commission (Rome); subsecretary general for social
action, CNBB. Attorney, political scientist, educator.

Secretary general, CNBB, 1971 -1979. A

Named archbishop of Salvador and primate of Brazil upon Dom
Eugénio's transfer to Rio in 1971; vice president, CNBB; president,
CELAM; appointed cardinal, 1973.

Auxiliary bishop, Sao Paulo; headed archdiocesan and CNBB
commissions on communications; represented archdiocese of Sao Paulo
at Bipartite; appointed cardinal, 1988.

Archbishop of Salvador and primate of Brazil, 1968-1971; named
cardinal, 1969; transferred to Rio, 1971.

Cardinal-archbishop of Porto Alegre; president, CNBB, 1970- 1971,
after Dom Agnelo Rossi's transfer to Rome.

Archbishop of Goiénia; a leading progressive and critic of
military regime.

Named archbishop of S50 Paulo in 1970 after Dom Agnelo Rossi's
transfer to Rome; named cardinal, 1973; one of Brazil's most influential

bishops.

Archbishop of Belém; member of the CNBB's national Episcopal Pastoral
Commission.

Bishop, Ipameri, Goias; substitute for Dom Lucas at Bipartite.

Papal nuncio.

Sources: FGV/CPDOC/ACM; CNBB 1984.

Church and military worked together for social and economic progress.“ This

objective explained the highly academic character of the Bipartite’s early stages.

Working with ESG graduates and intellectually oriented members of the armed

forces, Candido Mendes hoped to arrive at a formula for cooperation. In short,

Candido Mendes was the glue of the Bipartite.

Differences among the bishops also affected the Bipartite. One example was the

clash between Dom Ivo and Dom Eugénio. Dom Eugenio was a “prince” of the

Church. The armed forces respected him more than any other bishop, and they

admired him for his emphasis on punctuality, discipline, and his sense of duty and

hierarchy. He had long experience in dealing with ofﬁcers. In addition, he knew

how to create social distance from others at the appropriate moment. In effect,

103

Dialogue in the Shadows

Dom Eugenio could behave like a general. At the Bipartite he helped maintain the
necessary level of ceremony, but he also knew when to laugh in order to relieve ten-
sions. His prestige with the regime grew as his contacts with the pope multiplied.
From the armed forces’ standpoint his most important attribute was his distinction
between human rights abuses and incidents of repression of revolutionary warfare.
He made this distinction in such a way as to uphold the Church’s opposition to vio-
lations without compromising its credibility.”

A man of forceﬁil temperament, Dom Ivo was also military-like and jealous of
authority. The towering bishop from Rio Grande do Sul had a Prussian character
and a physical appearance that made him a “Geisel in a cassock” (Octavio Costa
interview 1)—like the Army Minister, highly driven and determined to impose his
will. Yet his progressive ideas did not sit well with either Dom Eugénio or the mili-
tary. After the Bipartite Dom Ivo enthusiastically welcomed the move of CNBB
headquarters to Brasilia as a way of distancing himself and the organization from
Dom Eugenio (Virgilio Rosa Netto interview). Attentive to internal Church politics,
the Grupo da Situagao noted “personal disagreements” between the two men.53 It
is ironic that Dom Ivo became one of the‘ most assiduous members of the Grupo
Religioso, participating out of a sense of duty to the Church (Virgilio Rosa Netto
interview). Dom Eugenio actually quit the Bipartite in anger at the regime (see the
next chapter).

Table 3 describes the Grupo da Situagao and its links to the ESG. General
Muricy had two decades of ties to the school and General Golbery. Indeed, at the
third Bipartite meeting in April 1971, Golbery presented an ADESG study on the
Church’s social doctrine and state policies.“ Padilha was both an ESG graduate and
a professor. In the early 1970s, he and Muricy ran the ADESG, which had hundreds
of members. This period marked the apex of ESG’s inﬂuence in Brazil. Other mem-
bers of the Situagao also had links to the ESG. The Navy was represented, but the
absence of Air Force representation was striking. The Army dominated the regime
and had plenty of individuals linked to the Church to man the Bipartite.55

The makeup of the Grupo da Situagao displayed the purposeful ambiguity of
the commission. Whereas the Church sent its top leaders to the Bipartite, table 3
illustrates that the government did not. The bishops could be expected to negotiate
with General Muricy and Vice Admiral Roberval Pizarro Marques but certainly not
with the Colonels and majors who worked as assistants. Yet these mid—level officers
played an important role. They came from the SNI, the CIE, the office of the Army
chief of staff, and the Army Ministry. Some were specialists in psychological war-
fare.

104

Dialogue in the Shadows

Dom Ivo Lorscheiter
(standing), his cousin
Dom Aloisio (middle),
and Dom Lucas Moreira
Neves, three leading par-
ticipants in the Bipartite.
Dom Ivo was the most
outspoken member of the

Church delegation.

General Muricy called upon the intelligence operatives to verify the Church’s
allegations of human rights abuses. These organizations, especially the CIE, played
a major role in combating guerrillas and other subversives. Thus the bishops faced
men from the very agencies that were accused of human rights violations and other
misdeeds. Some of these agents supplied information that was used by the Situacao
to attack the Church’s positions. They also provided analyses of the Bipartite and
the bishops. Their positions in the intelligence network and upper echelon of the
military bureaucracy underlined their importance. At least three—Paciﬁco, Lee,
and Sampaio—later received promotion to general. Sampaio had been a member

105

Preface

Brazil since I ﬁrst began studying the Church in 1986: Thomas C. Bruneau, Scott
Mainwaring, and Ralph Della Cava.I especially thank Ralph for countless hours of
discussion about the Church, invaluable assistance in Brazil, and (most important)
friendship. Tom ﬁirnished excellent commentary on the entire manuscript, as did
Brian Loveman, Anthony Pereira, Carol Drogus, and Meg Crahan. Peter Beattie
read chapters 2 and 10; the latter was also read by Dain Borges, Emerson Gium-
belli, and Joao Roberto Martins Filho.

In Brazil I received generous and precious assistance from political journalist
Elio Gaspari, an immense, perceptive, and no-nonsense repository of information
on the history of the military regime. Elio suggested avenues of research and also
read the manuscript. Celso Castro ﬁrst pointed out to me the existence of impor-
tant documentation on the Bipartite and helped in many other ways. Others who
facilitated my work were Father Alberto Antoniazzi, Father Virgilio Leite Uchoa,
Father Celso Pedro da Silva, Father Marcelo Azevedo, S.J., Riolando Azzi, General
Mario Orlando Ribeiro Sampaio, Joéio Roberto Martins Filho, Marcelo Ridenti,
Cecilia Coimbra, Joao Luiz Pecanha, Marco Aurélio Vannucchi Leme de Mattos,
Aldo Vannucchi, Egle Maria Vannucchi Leme, José de Oliveira Leme, Gonzaga
Souza, Terry Vincent and Zezé McIntyre, Alexandre Oliveira de Almeida, Célia
Costa, Luiz Alberto Gomez de Souza, Lucia Ribeiro, Aloysio de Oliveira Martins
Filho and Rosangela Mello, Henrique Samet, Satiro Nunes, Adriano and Arlete
Diogo, Amelinha Teles, Magali Godoy, Pierre Sanchis and the members of the for-
mer Grupo de Estudo do Catolicismo of the Instituto de Estudos da Religiao,
Miguel Carter, and Alexandre Brandao Martins Ferreira. Of great assistance were
the staffs of the Centro de Pesquisa e Documentagao da Historia Contemporanea
do Brasil, the Arquivo Publico do Estado do Rio de Janeiro, the Arquivo do Estado
de Sao Paulo, the Arquivo Nacional, the Diocese of Barra do Pirai—Volta Redonda,
the Biblioteca Cardeal Camara of the Archdiocese of S50 Sebastiao do Rio de
Janeiro, the Arquivo Edgard Leuenroth, the Central de Documentagﬁo e Infor-
magao Cientiﬁca “Prof. Casemiro dos Reis Filho,” the Instituto Nacional de
Pastoral, the Centro Alceu Amoroso Lima para a Liberdade, and the Centro de
Documentacién y Archivo para la Defensa de los Derechos Humanos. Father
Charles Antoine and Margarita Duran provided assistance in Paraguay. In the
United States valuable assistance and support came from Timothy Power, David
Dixon, Jeffrey Lesser, Michael Weis, Nancy Stimson, Steve Elliott, Marshall Buelna,
Julie Edson, and Joe McGowan. I also thank Eric Van Young, Paul Drake, Steven
T opik, Peter Evans, Michael Monteon, Joe Foweraker, and Aralia Lopez Gonzalez
for intellectual guidance and support over the years. Loris Zanatta provided copies

xi

Dialogue in the Shadows

Table 3. The Grupo da Situacao, in Order of Frequency of Appearance

Name

Positions

General Antonio Carlos da
Silva Muricy

Tarcisio Meirelles Padilha

Lieutenant Colonel Roberto
Pacffico Ba rbosa

Colonel Mario Orlando

Ribeiro Sampaio

Major Leone da Silveira Lee

Vice Admiral Roberval
Pizarro Marques

General Adolpho Joao
de Paula Couto

Dantas Barreto

Colonel Omar Diogenes

de Carvalho

Lieutenant Colonel Sérgio
Mario Pasquali

Major Carlos de
Souza Schéliga

Major José Carlos Duarte

Moacyr Gomes de Almeida

Four-star Army general, retired; president, ADESG;
appointed to head Bipartite by Médici.

Member, Federal Education Council; secretary, ADESG; ESG graduate
H969) and professor; member, Centro Dom Vital. Philosopher, university
professor. Personal friend of General Muricy.

Secretary of Bipartite; assistant, SNI Guanabara office. Later headed

Belo Horizonte and Rio SNI offices. Finished career as three-star general.

SNI. Conducted the Army's investigation of Barra Mansa deaths. Later
commanded the CIE. Ultimately became four-star general.

CIE; on staff of Army Minister Orlando Geisel. Later promoted to general
and commanded East Command (former First Army) in Rio de JaneiroL
Attained three-star status.

Commander, Fuzileiros Navais (Marine Corps). ESG graduate H966).

Divisional general; fourth subchief (psychological warfare), office of
Army chief of staff. Finished career with four stars.

Assistant to Justice Minister Alfredo Buzaid; ESG participant.
Chief, SNI Guanabara office.

Adjutant fourth subchief (psychological warfare), office of Army
chief of staff.

Adjutant fifth secretary (public relations), office of Army chief of staff.

Assistant to General Paula Couto.

Economist; participant in ESG program.

Sources: FGV/CPDOC/ACM; Muricy l993; interviews.
(The military name of each officer is in italics.)

of the SNI since its founding in 1964. Before joining the Bipartite, he helped com-
bat torture in the Army by investigating the officers accused of murdering soldiers
at the Barra Mansa barracks (see chapter 8). As a general he headed the CIE in the

mid—198os and ultimately earned four stars.

An Operation of War: Secrecy, Intelligence, and Politics

The Bipartite was an instrument of political strategy for the regime. Intelligence
was crucial in this process. Years later, General Muricy vehemently denied that the
Bipartite’s goal was to collect information for the government. Its motives were

106

Dialogue in the Shadows

“pure” (Muricy interview 2). Yet the general’s own documentation conﬁrms the use
of the intelligence services in the attempt to inﬂuence the bishops. It also demon-
strates how the Situagao worked behind the scenes to strengthen the government’s
position vis-a-vis the Church.

The bishops learned to harbor no illusions about the aims of the military, which
viewed the Brazilian clergy as highly susceptible to leftist inﬂuence. General Muricy
brought this attitude to the Bipartite from his work against subversion in the
Northeast. During the Médici years, violence, intrigue, censorship, and denuncia-
tions of torture abounded. The Brazilian clergy knew that the security forces kept
an eye on the Church. As one priest remembered it, the Bipartite became “an oper-
ation of war” (Virgilio Rosa Netto interview).

Secrecy

Secrecy was one of the principle factors that allowed the Situagao to exploit the
Bipartite for political purposes. But how concealed were the meetings? And why
did the bishops agree to secrecy? Private high-level contact was not a novelty.
Figures such as Muricy, Candido Mendes, and Tarcisio Padilha belonged to a small,
interconnected ruling class magniﬁed in importance by the fact that still only a
minority of the citizenry (because of a literacy requirement) had qualiﬁed to vote in
the last free presidential election in 1960. The dictatorship eliminated most politi-
cal participation and freedom of expression and elevated the importance of negoti-
ation through informal private channels. The Bipartite convenientlyinstitutional-
ized Church-state contact.

Neither group wanted leaks. The Bipartite required secrecy to protect its status
as a forum for resolution of Church-state disputes. The press was censored, but the
regime’s control over it was not absolute. As a practical matter, conﬁdentiality
allowed bishops and ofﬁcers to trade information and accusations about the deli-
cate matters of human rights abuses and subversion without causing public scan-
dal or providing a pretext for the armed opposition to retaliate.“ Likewise, the
Grupo da Situacao needed to respond to the bishops’ charges of atrocities without
raising the ire of hard-liners. For their part, the bishops accepted secrecy as a way
of facilitating contact with the military on human rights questions (Candido
Mendes interview 1). Secrecy also helped the bishops shield themselves from the
skepticism about dialogue among the grass-roots clergy and lay activists targeted
by the repressive forces. In addition, the hierarchy did not want to be publicly
tinged with allegations of subversion made by the regime and right-wing groups.

Few people knew of the Bipartite. The Situacao jealously guarded its secrecy,

107

Dialogue in the Shadows

allowing only the highest military officials and their assistants access to reports of
the meetings (Muricy interview 1). Even within the Planalto, there was little discus-
sion of the commission (Octavio Costa interview 1). Foreign Minister Barboza, for
instance, did not know about the Bipartite. Nor did the Rio DOPS intelligence unit
(Mario Gibson Barboza interview; Maurano interview). Occasionally the military
permitted small, discrete notes about the commission to appear in the press
(Marina Bandeira interview). After the IBRADES raid, for instance, fornal do Brasil
political columnist Carlos Castello Branco brieﬂy alluded to the formation of a
commission but did not report on the ﬁrst meeting. A Church news bulletin also
made oblique references to a “solution” to Church-state conﬂict, as did Dom Avelar
in a statement to the press.57 At the September 1973 Bipartite meeting, General
Muricy underscored the preoccupation with secrecy when he sharply criticized
Dom Fernando Gomes, the archbishop of Goiania, for giving a Church press bul-
letin substantial details on the commission. The mainstream press received this
bulletin and occasionally printed material from it, and on this occasion the Buenos
Aires daily La Nacién used Dom Fernando’s comments to write a large article
revealing the existence of the Bipartite. The military postmortem on the session
noted that Dom Fernando’s slip jeopardized the commissions survival. Major Lee
once again reminded the Grupo Religioso of the secrecy requirement after his name
appeared in a publication issued by Dom Pedro.”

In the Church a “grapevine” of contacts extended from the Bipartite to Catholic
human rights workers and some families of victims who sought the bishops’ assis-
tance.59 Papal nuncio Dom Mozzoni took part in the Bipartite and reported on it to
Paul VI (Muricy interview 1). Other bishops perhaps mentioned the commission’s
efforts in their periodic ad limina visits with the pope.“ To show that Church-state
dialogue was working, the Grupo da Situacﬁo wanted the bishops to apprise their
fellow prelates of the proceedings. Few people learned of the actual content of the
talks, however. The tight-lipped prelates told little to their assistants or to other
priests. To the military’s dismay, they also spread little word of the Bipartite to their
colleagues.“ They discussed the substance of the talks only in the small closed ses-
sions of high-level CNBB councils (Marina Bandeira interview; Candido Mendes
interview 1). Only in late 1976, two years after the Bipartite ended, did Dom Ivo
officially reveal the Bipartite to the Brazilian press in a brief statement (Prandini,
Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:5:15—16). Thereafter the hierarchy gave no ﬁirther
details, as illustrated by Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns’s reticence when questioned by
journalists (Arns 1978:127).

108

Dialogue in the Shadows

Intelligence: Seeking Political Advantage

The Situacﬁo gathered, disseminated, and used information in a number of
ways. A central concern was the actual meetings. They were an excellent opportu-
nity for observing the bishops closely and learning their ideas. In fact, both sides
hoped that such Contact would lead to better relations. The ofﬁcers kept detailed
minutes and wrote assessments of the meetings and the bishops. General Muricy
reviewed and approved these reports (Paciﬁco interview). Then they went to the
intelligence community, including the CIE (and therefore the Army Ministry too)
and different ofﬁces within the office of the Army chief of staff.” They also went to
SNI chief General Fontoura, who reported on the Bipartite to Médici (Paciﬁco
interview). In addition, the Situagao held preliminary meetings to plan strategies
for dealing with the Grupo Religioso. Early on, Professor Padilha pointed out the
need for “political tactics” to achieve the Situagads goals.“

The Grupo Religioso worked at a distinct disadvantage in the context of a pow-
erful and repressive authoritarian system. The bishops never saw the Situacads
reports. Nor did they have the resources, time, or intentions to match the military’s
specialization of tasks and thoroughness of preparation and review. For the
bishops, the Bipartite was one among many pastoral duties on a crowded sched-
ule.“

Audio recordings were another tool of the Situagao. At the second Bipartite
meeting, Colonel Omar Diogenes de Carvalho of the SNI played a tape of a former
Communist who had entered the seminary as part of a purported plot to inﬁltrate
the Church. Dom Eugénio responded by explaining that the bishops shared the
government’s concerns about Communism. He cited the example of a suspicious
student who had been expelled from the seminary in Salvador and added that in
turn the Church had managed to inﬁltrate the Communists.“

While Watergate and CIA scandals came to light in the United States, the
Situagao secretly taped the bishops during the two meetings held at the official res-
idence of Vice Admiral Roberval. The Marine Corps leader later asserted that he
requested authorization for the taping from General Muricy for historical purpos-
es. The location of the recordings is now a mystery. Both Muricy and Roberval
denied ulterior motives for the taping.“ However, if they had fallen into the hands
of the regime’s evidence forgers the tapes could have become material for distorted
attacks on the Church in the media. These kinds of attacks had already occurred.

Another tactic of the Situagﬁo was to present the bishops with documents that
demonstrated what the military considered subversive activities among the clergy

109

Dialogue in the Shadows

Bipartite
member Vice
Admiral
Roherval
Pizarro
Marques was a
staunch tradi-
tional Catholic
lil<e General
Muricy. He
secretly taped
the bishops
during the two
Bipartite meet-
ings held at his

residence.

and pastoral agents. The largest sample was captured during the security forces’
attack on the prelacy of S50 Félix do Araguaia, where Dom Pedro Casaldaliga and
his assistants aided squatters, rural migrants, and Amerindians in their struggles
against large landowners allied with the government. Dom Pedro’s work irritated
the military, making the Church-state conﬂict in Sao Félix one of the most serious
of the authoritarian era. The speedy transfer of the Sao Félix documents to the
Bipartite illustrates the Situagads excellent access to intelligence. Muricy had
Major Leone da Silveira Lee of the CIE read “compromising” passages.” (The CIE
was waging war against guerrillas in the neighboring state of Para.) In fact, the min-

110

Dialogue in the Shadows

utes of the Bipartite suggest that the bishops had no access to these documents.
Thus the Situacao held the power of both evidence and interpretation.

Evaluation of the bishops and their positions formed another facet of the
Situagao’s intelligence efforts. In preparation for debate at the Bipartite, the ofﬁcers
carefully analyzed the controversial pronouncements of the CNBB, regional epis-
copal groups, and individual bishops. Church publications and the press were also
checked for criticisms of the regime.

Other documents of the Bipartite reveal military impressions of the bishops
based on particular incidents, personality traits, and ideological tendencies. Dom
Fernando Gomes was “a profoundly vain personality” who became “aggressive
toward the regime” because he felt discredited by the public authorities in Goiania.
Dom Paulo was seen as malleable and inﬂuenced by the left, an inexperienced pas-
tor nevertheless working to improve his abilities. Dom Eugenio inspired the high-
est respect from the military for his emphasis on hierarchy, whereas Dom Ivo was
disliked for being too political and outspoken. Dom Lucas was similarly distrusted
for his complaints against censorship. The Situagao ﬁrst perceived Candido
Mendes as being the most dedicated to dialogue but lost faith in him as he pressed
for resolution of human rights cases. Implicit in these observations were the mili-
tary’s own institutional preconceptions about the priestly vocation and the
Church’s efforts at renovation.“

The military’s knowledge of the Grupo Religioso and the CNBB increased with
the help of a bishop who acted as informant. As early as 1968, some priests sus~
pected that individuals within the bishops’ conference were feeding information to
the SNI (Pinheiro 1994:114). During the Médici era, Dom Luciano José Cabral
Duarte, the archbishop of Aracaju, did so for the Situacao. Dom Luciano was
known for his efforts at articulating the conservative opposition to progressive
Catholicism. He gained notoriety in 1979 when a Mexican newspaper published the
text of a letter to him from Colombian bishop Alfonso Lopez Trujillo. The missive
urged Dom Luciano to “prepare your airplane bombers” for the important CELAM
meeting at Puebla (Lernoux 19821435). In the early 1970s, Dom Luciano sat on the
CNBB’s important Pastoral Episcopal Commission and thus had regular access to
the decision—making process of the country’s leading bishops. He informed
Professor Padilha about internal Church politics, progressive bishops, a key 1972
meeting of the CNBB’s Representative Commission, and the 1974 CNBB elections.
General Paula Couto also met with Dom Vicente Scherer to obtain information
about the 1973 CNBB assembly.” Dom Eugenio was seen as another reliable Contact
outside the Bipartite.

111

Dialogue in the Shadows

Ultimately, the goal of intelligence was to gain political advantage over the
Grupo Religioso and the Church. The Situacao pushed for the bishops to rein in
activist priests and to tone down and even retract their criticisms of the regime. The
Situacﬁo was particularly interested in seeing a more conservative slate of bishops
replace Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo as leaders of the CNBB. After the regime shut
down the archdiocese of S50 Paulo’s radio station in 1973, the Situagao tried to have
it reopened as a way of swinging support within the CNBB to the conservatives.
Dom Luciano worked on organizing the conservative slate and kept the Situagao
informed of its progress.” However, the Situacﬁo was unsuccessful, as Dom Aloisio
and Dom Ivo won election to second terms.

Conclusion

Close Church-state relations were the rule in Brazil for at least four decades
before the coup of 1964, and they continued throughout the military era. The gen-
eral historical impression of the Médici years is one of an inﬂexible, heavy—handed
authoritarianism toward all sectors of society, but the existence of the Bipartite
Commission demonstrates that, long before the political liberalization of the Geisel
presidency, bishops and ofﬁcers engaged in discussing their differences and seek-
ing points of mutual understanding.” Although the Bipartite was not a cause of the
post-1973 liberalization, it clearly served as an example of political decompression
between two of the most important political actors of the authoritarian era.

The creation of the Bipartite reveals how different visions of Church-military
relations existed within the regime. Some technocrats and hard-liners no longer
saw the Church as a central institution necessary for Brazil’s progress. General
Muricy represented more moderate and traditional forces that desired to preserve
the Church’s loyalty and its historical inﬂuence as a stabilizing force. From this cur-
rent emerged the proposal for dialogue, conﬂict resolution, and even continued
collaboration.

Because of the repression, the dialogue became the most institutionalized in the
history of Church-state relations in modern Brazil. The meetings were regular, had
established agendas, and included a ﬁxed core of participants. These men belonged
to the elite and shared the Catholic faith. The meetings lasted four years. Both sides
obviously saw an interest in maintaining contact. Also quickened by the repression,
the rise of the CNBB as the voice of a uniﬁed episcopate reinforced the formality
and importance of the Bipartite. In Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo, the CNBB sent to
the Bipartite two key leaders of the leftward shift of the Church.

112

Dialogue in the Shadows

Indeed, the Bipartite was created precisely as the CNBB was becoming a major
opponent of the military government. The Bipartite was an exercise in dialogue but
also a school for the two sides to learn in greater detail about each other’s ideas and
tactics. In this respect, the Bipartite was especially valuable for the Church. General
Muricy faded from the political scene after the Bipartite, but Dom Ivo, Dom
Aloisio, and other members of the Grupo Religioso were moving into their prime.
The continued production of pastoral statements, the ﬁght against torture and cen-
sorship, and the struggle for the return to democracy were hard political battles.
The Bipartite provided experience and momentum for winning them.

Yet the Bipartite was not a summit. General Muricy had Médici’s nod to run the
commission, but its secret and purposefully ambiguous status allowed the regime
to remain noncommittal toward the Church and to attempt to use the Bipartite for
political gain. The Médici administration was perhaps more ﬂexible than it has
been given credit for, but the logic of the authoritarian system ultimately made its
differences with the Church irreconcilable. The bishops were not to be completely
trusted. In late 1970, however, both bishops and officers held out hope that these
differences could be overcome.

113

Chapter 6 Social Justice or Subversion?

114

is chapter examines the Bipartite debates concerning
ideology and the alleged subversion committed by clergy-
men. It covers the ﬁrst four meetings in 1970 and 1971, the
period in which the commission established its basic

 

agenda, and helps to explain how the Church and the mil-
itary viewed each other and attempted to build mutual understand-
ing. At the ﬁrst meeting on November 3, 1970, Dom Avelar laid out
the central question of Brazil’s Church-military conﬂict: “Where
does social justice end and subversion begin?” The Church had
become entangled in this question as the armed forces tightened the
national security net and took control of the country’s economy and
political system. The question was implicit in the dialectic between

social activism and repression that had existed since 1964. In 1967 .

the Church explicitly asked for a deﬁnition of subversion. At the
Bipartite the bishops repeated this request. They wanted to clarify
the Church—regime relationship by seeking sharper deﬁnitions of
subversion and other polemical themes such as capitalism, social-
ism, nationalism, and political participation}

The discussions revolved around the radical statement on social
justice issued by CELAM at its second general assembly at Medellin,
Colombia, in 1968. In particular the bishops and ofﬁcers concentrat-
ed on socioeconomic development. The cold war and Third World
economic nationalism had exacerbated the controversies over this
theme. In Brazil the clergy and the armed forces struggled for the
right to deﬁne it. Through the Bipartite, the bishops attempted to
affirm their right to propose and implement Catholic notions of
development. The commission aimed to preserve Church-state col-
laboration in this key area of national interest. The Bipartite also

Social Justice or Subversion?

sought to resolve disputes arising from the repression of priests and activists, and
it succeeded in reducing tensions, although it also had limits.

Setting the Agenda: Church-State Collaboration in Development

Meeting privately, General Muricy and Candido Mendes decided that the latter
would coordinate the ﬁrst Bipartite encounter. Candido Mendes focused on struc-
turing an effective Church-state dialogue. He set the tenor by distributing copies of
the Medellin statement to the Grupo da Situagao. He then read two papers that
interpreted the important CELAM document and Church-state relations in light of
the Brazilian crisis. The CJP-BR’s secretary general believed that cross and sword
should collaborate for the beneﬁt of Brazil. So emphatic was Candido Mendes that
Dantas Barreto accused him of ignoring “the separation of Church and state in
Brazil.” No “concordat” between the two existed, Dantas Barreto added. Yet the
Bipartite clearly worked within the framework of the moral concordat that had
been operative since the 19303. The Bipartite sought to renew that relationship.
Candido Mendes deﬁned the commission as a “search for paradigms,” as “a system
of exchange and consultation” in favor of social and economic development. He
hoped to synthesize Catholic social doctrine with the Médici governments plan for
national progress?

The episcopal delegates at Medellin had produced the region’s most radical
Church document to date. It resulted from a convocation by Pope Paul VI to imple-
ment Vatican II’s ecclesial liberalization in Latin America. It also formed part of a
strategy to preempt violent revolution in the region by offering the laity a greater
role in the Church and by bringing radical elements under its wing.3 The document
was a new version of the Church’s third way between Communism and capitalism,
the latest in a long line of statements on social justice dating from the late nine-
teenth century. “Latin American underdevelopment . . . is an unjust situation which
promotes tensions that conspire against peace,” the bishops declared. They expand-
ed the notion of sin to include “institutionalized violence,” a powerful concept given
the oppressive political and social structures of Latin American countries. They
praised the work of peaceful “revolutionaries,” encouraged a “consciousness-raising
evangelization,” and called upon Christians to become engaged in the transforma-
tion of society (CELAM 1985). The document became the Magna Carta of Latin
American progressive Catholicism, fostering the development of liberation theolo-
gy, the so-called preferential option for the poor, and the CEBs. The Medellin state-
ment also exacerbated divisions in the Church. It spurred conservatives to begin a

115

Preface I

of important documents from the Archive of the Argentine Embassy to the Holy
See. James Green furnished papers from the Arquivo do Itamaraty.

In addition, I wish to thank the many individuals in the Roman Catholic Church
of Brazil, retired members of the Brazilian armed forces, and other Brazilian citi-
zens who agreed to be interviewed. I extend my gratitude to those organizations
that have provided funding for this research: the North-South Center at the
University of Miami and the Department of History, the Office of the Dean of Arts
and Sciences, and the TransBorder Institute of the University of San Diego. At
Miami, Ambassador Ambler Moss and Robin Rosenberg provided the opportuni-
ty to begin this research; and in San Diego, Patrick Drinan, James Gump, Lisa
Hoffman, Iris Engstrand, and Dan Wolf enabled me to continue it. I also thank
Cambridge University Press for permission to reprint as chapter 10 most of my
article “The Anatomy of a Death: Repression, Human Rights and the Case of
Alexandre Vannucchi Leme in Authoritarian Brazil,” journal of Latin American
Studies 30 (1998), 1-33. At the University of Pittsburgh Press special encouragement
came from Eileen Kiley, Niels Aaboe, and Mark Jacobs helped smooth the path to
publication. Many thanks also go to Pippa Letsky for a ﬁne job of copy-editing.

Additional helpful comments on the work came from Maria Celina D’Araujo,
Glaucio Soares, Antonio Carlos Quicoli, Michael Fleet, Manuel Vasquez, Michael
LaRosa, José Casanova, Maria Aparecida de Aquino, Maria de Lourdes Monaco
Janotti, Alexander Wilde, Louis Warren, Elaine Elliott, Jeff Ravine, Hector Aguirre,
Elizabeth Bailey, James Black, Kevin Bratsch, Orousha Digius, James Gentry, James
Gonzales, Steve Lawrence, Doug Raidt, Signe Salminen, Lucinda Snyder, Jeanne
Tannone, Phillip Trotter, Jim Westlund, Dulce Chaves Pandolﬁ, Lucia Lippi de
Oliveira, Delaine Alvares, Janaina Teles, Luiz Lima Vailati, Sidney Oliveira Pires
Junior, Eduardo Yoshimori Ochi, and Regiane Augusto.

Most of all, I wish to thank those closest to me who have supported my work
during this project and over the years—Stephen Downing, David Chappell,
Stephen Prothero, Donald Gastwirth, John Glick, Maryse Bacellar (minha mcie
brasileira), Roberto Grimes, Mario Teodoro de Barros, Lourdes Alves Barros,
Rogério Alves de Barros, Ricardo Alves de Barros; along with my parents, Paul and
Carol Serbin; my sister Donna and her family; and above all, my wife Regina Barros
Serbin, for tolerance, patience, and unending love.

All translations of documents from the original Portuguese into English are the
authors. All variant spellings of certain Portuguese names (for example, Vannuc-
chi/Vannuchi, Candido/Cﬁndido, Castello/Castelo) are correct.

Social Justice or Subversion?

campaign against liberation theology and involved the clergy in social activism. The
Brazilian bishops took a leadership role at Medellin. Among the key envoys were
Dom Hélder, generally credited (along with Chilean bishop Dom Manuel Larrain)
with pushing CELAM to the left; Dom Avelar, the CELAM president; Dom Aloisio;
and Dom Eugénio, who headed the conferences Commission of Peace and Justice
and wrote the document’s section on social justice.4  

Candido Mendes staunchly supported Medellin. Titled “Fundamental
Principles of Development in the Medellin Document,” his ﬁrst exposition offered
a critique of Latin American society based on both nationalist—developmentalism
and the Medellin document’s embrace of dependency theory, which had come into
vogue on the left as an explanation for underdevelopment. He proposed equality in
the international economic order, the decentralization of Latin American political
systems, the formation of labor unions, and national autonomy as a mechanism for
integrating all individuals into the development process.5

Candido Mendes’s second paper outlined the major task facing the Bipartite:
how to avoid a collision between Church and state. It was titled “Perspectives for
Dialogue Between Church and State with a View Toward Development.” This expo-
sition was more creative than the ﬁrst. In it he not only analyzed Brazilian reality
but also advocated a “Christian vision of development.” Candido Mendes empha-
sized that Catholic social thought and pastoral strategy had entered a new, more
“concrete” phase, in which the Church would actively struggle for development
guided by the concepts of social science. The regime had its own development plan,
but it employed an imposed rationality and repression. The two sides needed to
study carefully each other’s ideology and efforts for development. In the govern-
ment’s approach what was the tradeoff between “sacriﬁce” and real beneﬁts for the
people? A comparison of Values could help answer this question. Moreover, dia-

77 66

logue had to be ongoing in order to avoid reliance on “slogans, stereotypes,” and
the “obsolescence” of old ideas.“

Candido Mendes was optimistic that the Church and the military could agree
on a common vision. His deepest worry was conﬂict resulting from each side’s dif-
ferent “strategy” and “timing” in the quest for development. Rather than compete,
Church and state needed to join forces. Here again dialogue was of key impor-
tance.7 This proposal was the most audacious to be put forth at the Bipartite. In
hindsight and in light of the existing literature on Brazilian Catholicism, the idea of
Church-state unity at a time of growing conﬂict appears illogical and counterpro-
ductive. And cooperation on socioeconomic progress seemed unrealistic.

The Church-state relationship was about more than the question of political

116

Social Justice or Subversion?

The great-grandson of the prominent Catholic senator who defended Brazil is bishops in the 1870s,
Candido Mendes believed that the Church and the military regime could cooperate to bring about
Brazil is socioeconomic development.

support, however. A series of factors made Candido Mendes’s proposal plausible:
the Brazilian tradition of elite conciliation, past Church—state dialogue and collabo-
ration on development, the Church’s self-image as a moral beacon, a certain naiveté
of the bishops, the regime’s need for religious legitimation, General Muricy’s devo-
tion to the Church, the desire by both sides to reduce conﬂict, and the hope for
redemocratization. A political scientist who subscribed to the theoretical frame-
work of power elites, Candido Mendes believed that the military regime could
widen its political base and join nationalist ideology and technocratic planning to
produce a new phase of development (Martins Filho 1995:1o8—1o). Latin America’s
new military regimes were above all highly patriotic and embraced one form or
another of developmental nationalism (Loveman 19992188). The Church too was
patriotic. Candido Mendes’s background and personality were two more key fac-
tors. In an authoritarian regime only a ﬁgure like Candido Mendes—a cordial aris-
tocrat and internationally prestigious intellectual with the self-conﬁdence and abil-

117

Social Justice or Subversion?

ity to make contacts and plant his ideas across the political spectrum—could for-
mulate such a proposal and be taken seriously. In sum, the idea of joining forces
was truly extraordinary——and understandable.

Candido Mendes outlined how cooperation could evolve. Church and state
needed to avoid tensions arising from the social distortions that had appeared in
Brazilian development. Social and political change had failed to keep pace with the
country’s impressive economic performance under the military. Did this “syn-
chronic alteration” of objectives imply a crisis in the development paradigm adopt-
ed by most poor countries? Or did it mean that new forms of political participation
and social mobility had to be found to replace those of the old model? The solution
lay in understanding the government’s long-term development goals in the light of
Medellin (and Pope Paul VI’s Populorum Progressio). Catholic social activism could
remove the social distortions of development, while effective Church—state cooper-
ation could make Brazil the ﬁrst living example of the new Church teachings.3

The Grupo da Situagao gave Candido Mendes’s ideas a mixed review. The
officers and their civilian collaborators all agreed that Church and state shared the
goal of Brazil’s development, but not the means to reach it. General Muricy stated
that some in the Church lacked patience and knowledge about the government’s
development program and therefore did not understand the regime’s actions.
Moreover, the Church’s social doctrine was “very theoretical” and failed to account
for the difﬁculties encountered by the government. Professor Padilha attacked
Candido Mendes’s understanding of national security as “outdated.” Political and
social progress was already lagging behind economic development when the mili-
tary assumed power, Padilha argued. The harshest criticism came from Ministry of
Justice off1cialDantas Barreto, who believed that the juridical separation of Church
and state in Brazil precluded the bishops from interfering in the “temporal
domain.” He stated that the Church should instead concentrate on preaching strict-
ly spiritual themes to the people.9

The Military Response: Medellin as Subversion

While Candido Mendes and the bishops emphasized social justice through eco-
nomic development and political participation, the military tried to steer the
debate toward its main concern: subversion of the political and socioeconomic
order established by the armed forces. The ofﬁcers hoped to reestablish the two
institutions’ compatibility in outlook. Despite the Church’s anti-Communist
stance, however, the ofﬁcers believed that the Church had little understanding of

118

Social Justice or Subversion?

revolutionary warfare and the methods used by the left to co-opt susceptible
groups such as students and the clergy. In the officers’ view the bishops naively
failed to consider these dangers while carrying out their new social doctrine.”

The military’s concerns were underlined at the ﬁrst Bipartite meeting by
General Paula Couto of the psychological warfare division of the office of the Army
chief of staff. In Paula Couto’s interpretation, the West had embarked upon a “neo-
capitalism” that was incorporating the Church’s new social teachings. The Church’s
lack of knowledge about economic realities, however, allowed it to be manipulated
by the international Communist movement. Paula Couto stated that the challenge
for the Brazilian regime was to avoid allowing democracy to commit “suicide” with
too many liberties but also not to “disﬁgure it” with too much “containment” of
subversion. “The Church and the government are on the same line,” Paula
Couto concluded. “The difference is that the Church lacks information about the
enemy. ””

At the second Bipartite meeting, in January 1971, General Paula Couto present-
ed a study titled “Revolutionary Warfare and the Church in Light of the Medellin
Documents.” It was a more elaborate response to Candido Mendes’s explication of
Medellin. “The Catholic hierarchy is ignorant of. . . the Communist revolutionary
process known as Revolutionary Warfare, just as the rest of the civilian elites are
ignorant of it,” Paula Couto’s exposition began. Using insidious and subtle tactics,
the international Communist movement “exploits altruistic and humanitarian sen-
timents and awakens consciences to apparently noble causes.” He further cau-
tioned the bishops to proceed carefully with the Church’s new idea of studying
Marxism, an “undesirable ideology” that easily inﬂuenced the “inattentive and the
unprepared.”12

The core of Paula Couto’s criticisms concerned the Medellin document’s use of
concepts similar to those of revolutionary warfare. Thus Medellin could provide
“precious aid” to the Communist cause. Citing the warnings of the conservative
Dom Vicente Scherer, Paula Couto explained that many Church documents sub-
scribed to the Marxist strategy of fomenting class struggle. If the Church did not
address this danger, friction with the state would continue, for the government
would no longer be able to distinguish between real Communists and subversive
priests who thought that they were simply following Catholic social doctrine. The
bishops needed to explain more clearly the “constructive” meaning of their teach-
ings in order to avoid confusion between “Church and subversion.”13

Paula Couto proceeded to critique the Medellin document. He ﬁrst cited
“nationalism,” an especially “passionate” example of a number of “intermediate

119

Social Justice or Subversion?

ideologies” used by the Communists to inﬁltrate the Church and other groups.
Nationalism was “the greatest source of revolutionary energy of our time,” Paula
Couto stated. Medellin played on this sentiment by decrying Latin America’s
“dependent” status as a producer of primary goods for the First World. By con-
demning “the international imperialism of money,” Medellin attacked the United
States without recognizing that country’s leadership of the “Western and Christian
world” as exempliﬁed by its actions in Vietnam. Latin America’s struggle for “lib-
eration” echoed Josef Stalin’s own guidelines for the Communist movement by
highlighting the contradictions between rich and poor nations and ultimately caus-
ing them to reject the United States and to move in the direction of Moscow.“ In
effect, Paula Couto had associated the Church’s nascent liberation theology with
Communism. This kind of analysis hinted at the conservative critique of liberation
theology soon to emerge in Latin America.

Paula Couto shifted from international to domestic tensions. The Communists
aimed to “demoralize” democratic Third World regimes from within by exaggerat-
ing their social inequalities. The Church strengthened the Communists’ hand by
failing to admit that “neocapitalism” had evolved beyond the laissez-faire
economies of the nineteenth century to become a socially responsible system. The
authors of post—Vatican 11 Church documents errantly condemned capitalism and
its internal contradictions without seeking to distinguish themselves from the
Communists. The Medellin manifesto, for example, failed to couch its call for
structural change in democratic terms. In addition, Paula Couto stated, the bish-
ops advocated the formation of unions and youth groups without realizing that
such organizations were prime targets of the Communists. Medellin spoke out
againstthe “bourgeois civilization” that emphasized “eroticism” and “hedonism,”
but not the real causes of social decay—radicals such as the popular philosopher
Herbert Marcuse. The Medellin document was “excellent” for promoting class
hatred, Paula Couto continued. The bishops had abandoned their search for a
“third position” between capitalism and Communism. Paula Couto appealed to
Paul VI’s opening statement at Medellin, in which the pope criticized unjust eco-
nomic systems but also ruled out violence and anarchy, obvious Communist tactics
that were repressed by the regime.“

Paula Couto further criticized the Medellin document’s use of Communist “j ar-
gon” such as “oppression,” “imperialism,” and “bourgeoisie.” Medellin encouraged
the formation of “grass-roots organizations” (a reference to the CEBS) based on the
repressed Catholic Action movements. He also assailed the statement for making
“violence a noble ideal, a glorious heroism” through “sympathetic references” to

120

Social Justice or Subversion?

the idealism of revolutionaries.“ To support Paula Couto’s arguments, Colonel
Omar of the SNI played for the bishops the tape recording of a former seminarian
that allegedly proved Communist inﬁltration in the Church (see chapter 5).

While asserting a basic harmony between the government’s and the Church’s
concerns, Dom Eugénio found inconsistencies in the general’s words. Legitimate
nationalism, the cardinal noted, was actually rooted in Brazil’s armed forces,
although he agreed that the Communists tried to use it to separate Brazil from the
United States. The Medellin document was like the Gospel: both could be used in
revolutionary warfare. But by intervening in several areas of the economy the
regime itself had abandoned the theory of free enterprise and adopted elements of
socialism. Dom Eugenio also downplayed the importance of anti-Communism for
Brazil. He maintained that for discussing the problem of subversion “not in favor
of Communism” was a better term than “anti-Communism.” Excessive emphasis
on the “Communist bugaboo” diverted attention from social reform."

Paula Couto and Muricy objected to these statements. Paula Couto asserted that
no socialists were in the government. Muricy added that intervention and planning
were simply “a modern solution” to national economic problems. Paula Couto
reminded the bishops that social reform was already part of regime strategy for
combating revolutionary warfare.“ Dom Avelar admitted that Medellin contained
“equivocal terms” because “we live in a society in transformation that speaks an
ambiguous language.” By the same token, Paula Couto’s exposition also lacked clar-
ity. Given the context of the times, Medellin was a moderate statement. It rejected
violence and invited all groups to join together in solving Latin America’s prob-
lems.19 _

Candido Mendes offered the most incisive commentary. He (correctly) foresaw
an aggravation of the conﬂict between the ideology of Medellin and the policies of
the regime. He then posed three interrelated questions. First, was Brazil’s leader-
ship not too rigid in its premises? Had the idea of revolutionary warfare not
become “sclerotic”? And, in echo of Dom Eugenio, had this concept not received
“excessive emphasis” within military strategy? The Grupo da Situacao did not
think so. Paula Couto explained that he had based his talk on a scenario of “ortho-
dox and complete” revolutionary warfare. Some of its “insidious and subtle” tech-
niques had succeeded in Brazil; thanks to the government’s action, others had not.
He cited the example of Chile, where socialist Salvador Allende had won election to
the presidency peacefully. Allende had been able to use the psychological and polit-
ical tools of revolutionary warfare because the Chilean government had failed to
keep “vigilance.” General Muricy added that national security policy demanded the

121

Social Justice or Subversion?

defeat of all antagonistic forces. Professor Padilha also disagreed with Candido
Mendes. Development and security were tied together, he stated. Revolutionary
warfare in Brazil was a “reality” that had to be “combated.”2°

Religion and Politics.

Dantas Barreto tried to radicalize the debate by shifting attention from
Medellin and subversion to the theory of Church-state relations. He was aggressive.
He ﬁrst attacked Candido Mendes’s document as “abstruse and obscure,” “biased,”
and “most inappropriate” for meeting the goal of Church-regime cooperation.
Citing papal encyclicals, Barreto attempted to prove that the bishops could only
speak about the social sphere, not act in it. It was not the Church’s duty “to promote
the temporal well-being,” Barreto stated. “Religion and politics are distinct
spheres.” Moreover, Barreto afﬁrmed that although poverty was “unmerited,” it
was not “unjust,” for the government was working to eliminate it. (He distributed
copies of the Médici administration’s Metas e Bases para a Agao de Governo [Goals
and bases for government action], an ambitious outline of industrial development,
national integration, and social progress.) He described Catholic activists as fanat-
ics who had lost their faith. “They give the impression that they possess the key to
progress and the secret, the exact formula for development, and that governments
do not use this formula because of conservative egoism and imperialistic malice,”
Barreto stated. “The truth is that they want to use the Church to cover themselves
with immunity in order to preach, protect, or commit illegal and subversive
acts and do not shy away from violence, assault, terrorism, and kidnapping.” He
offered the example of Chile, where radical priests collaborated with the Allende
regime.“

The bishops reacted “violently” to these remarks, according to the military’s
secret report on the meeting. Dom Eugénio termed them “profoundly unfortu-
nate.” The cardinal expressed complete support for Candido Mendes’s document.
Because Barreto had deﬁned the Church’s and the state’s respective areas of com-
petence a priori, Dom Eugenio suggested that the Bipartite come to a halt. General
Muricy tried to calm the air by stating that Barreto’s exposition was “personal” and
did “not reﬂect the thinking” of the ofﬁcers. But Dom Avelar joined Dom Eugenio
in questioning the usefulness of the commission. Barreto’s way of thinking was
“rigid,” “polemical,” and “professorial.” The Church had not interfered in state
affairs, Dom Avelar added. The Church was undergoing an official “process of ren-
ovation” commanded by the pope, and all had to accept it, including the mistakes
committed. Professor Padilha made another effort at conciliation. “It is difﬁcult to

122 _

Social Justice or Subversion?

dissociate the religious man from the citizen,” he stated. “A perspective of Christian
anguish is what led Dr. Dantas to such a vehement position.”22

This exchange revealed the cleavages within the regime about how to deal with
the Church. Whereas Muricy, Padilha, and most of the Grupo da Situagao stressed
dialogue, Barreto’s position resonated with that of the hard—liners and technocrats
who believed that the clergy should exercise a traditionally spiritual function.
Barreto had the backing of both Médici and Justice Minister Buzaid.23 He acted as
an important political voice as the commission established parameters of debate
and possibilities for mutual understanding. Having left a bad impression on other
members of the Bipartite, he dropped out, but not before putting the bishops on
notice that the regime would not tolerate their interference. Meanwhile, in vigor-
ously defending Candido Mendes the bishops displayed a united front.

The Attempt to Deflate Medellin

Revolutionary warfare remained a stumbling block as the two groups continued
to search for ways to link the theology of Medellin with the developmental goals of
the regime. The minutes of the April 1971 gathering are missing from General
Muricy’s papers. Notations on the military’s premeeting planning session, howev-
er, reveal that the Grupo da Situagao carefully prepared rebuttals to the Grupo
Religioso’s previous arguments. In a draft of meeting strategy, General Paula Couto
emphasized the need to refute Dom Eugénio’s belief that the stress on anti-
Communism was harming Brazil. “A true democrat has to be an ‘anti-Communist,’
and not just ‘not in favor of Communism,” he wrote. “If there were no aggression,
democracy could be less hostile, as Dom Eugenio wants. It is not democracy that
wants to conquer the Communist countries, but the opposite is deﬁnitely true.”
Furthermore, Paula Couto wanted to clarify such controversial terms as “capital-
ism,” “neocapitalism,” “socialism,” “security,” and “participation.” He speciﬁcally
cited Candido Mendes’s statement that “nationalism is the political conscience of
development.” Another example was Dom Avelar’s observation about the unclear
distinction between social justice and subversion.“

In addition, the Grupo da Situagao outlined a critique of Candido Mendes’s
papers on Medellin and Church-state cooperation. According to this analysis, the
Church’s “participation in the education and conscientizagcio of the people” was
“dangerous” because the Communists ran “an identical movement exploiting
themes similar to those of the Church, that is, . . . ‘internal contradictions.’” The

Situacao questioned Candido Mendes’s use of such terms as “urgent transforma-

123

Social Justice or Subversion?

tions,” which sounded revolutionary.25 The report dismissed Candido Mendes’s
defense of traditional civil liberties. The Brazilian government had surpassed the
“classical political system” to become a “social democracy,” in which some individ-
ual rights had to be restricted. Furthermore, Candido Mendes’s proposal that the
Church help form “a national political conscience” was an “invasion” of the gov-
ernment’s responsibilities. The Church’s new pastoral activism and its decision to
denounce injustice were turning the institution into a transnational “political
party” that might clash with the national interest. Church and state now competed
over questions of development. “If two organisms of an intrinsically political
nature, composed of different persons but of the same ideology, cannot reach per-
fect agreement over a development program, what can be said when competition
occurs between the competent political organ and another of a completely differ-
ent nature, as is the case of the Church?”25 Despite this rather pessimistic evalua-
tion, the document echoed Candido Mendes’s hopes for improved Church-regime
relations. In retrospect such a task seemed ﬁitile, but the whole reasoning behind
the Bipartite was that the clergy and the military could and indeed should collabo-
rate.

Another Situacﬁo study presented at the April 1971 meeting outlined the possi-
bilities. It was written by an ADESG team headed by General Golbery do Couto e
Silva, the grand theoretician of Brazilian DNS, founder of the SNI, and political
acquaintance of both General Muricy and Candido Mendes. Persona non grata in
the hard-line Costa e Silva and Médici administrations, Golbery remained active in
the private sector as president of Dow Chemical. He returned to the government as
the chief of the presidential civilian staff in the Geisel administration and became a
leading architect of the abertura. The other members of the ADESG team were
Judge José Murta Ribeiro, economist José Garrido Torres, Ambassador Geraldo
Eulélio do Nascimento e Silva, and Jesuit Father Francisco Leme Lopes, a support-
er of the coup.”

Titled “Church Social Doctrine and Brazilian Government Policy,” the Golbery
document attempted to discover whether the causes of Church-state conﬂict were
rooted in doctrinal differences or other factors. Comparing Pope Paul VI’s
Populorum Progressio with the pronouncements of the Médici government, the team
concluded that harmony existed on questions of development, population control,
agrarian reform, health care, wage policy, disarmament, and numerous other
areas. Like the other documents analyzed here, this study made no reference to
actual examples of subversion or to regime atrocities. Yet it concluded that Church-
regime tensions originated not at the leadership level but among the lower tiers of

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Social Justice or Subversion?

the clergy and the armed forces.” This analysis was generally true for the period
before 1968, but the two hierarchies clearly began to clash thereafter. Moreover, the
Golbery study was superﬁcial because it spoke only of intentions, not results. Thus
it was not so much a description of Church-state relations as a plea for continued
dialogue.

The question still facing the Bipartite was how to stop Medellin from inspiring
subversion. This was a tricky matter because, despite all of their debate, the two
sides never resolved, at least in a theoretical sense, Dom Avelar’s conundrum about
social justice and subversion. The Grupo da Situacao tried to convince the bishops
to issue a supplementary, antisubversive interpretation of Medellin in the name of
the CNBB and to distribute it to all of Brazil’s thousands of parishes. The Golbery
team had observed that the Church’s documents were often vaguely worded to
appeal to its large multinational membership. According to the military’s wishes,
the Medellin supplement would speak speciﬁcally about Brazil and reﬂect the “per-
fect compatibility” between Church and state expressed in the Golbery study.”
Such a statement would discourage and delegitimate the actions of the radical
clergy.

Dom Eugenio only partially obliged the Situacﬁo. At the July 1971 Bipartite
meeting, he gave a positive commentary on Medellin. In contrast with Candido
Mendes’s presentations, Dom Eugenio did not distribute copies of this “personal
analysis.” The Medellin statement was not an ofﬁcial document of the Church, but
it was recognized by the pope, the cardinal stated. It was also not a “social docu-
ment” but a religious one. It was valid for all Latin American countries. Medellin
should be interpreted as a whole, Dom Eugenio cautioned, and not according to a
few faulty, isolated phrases. He admitted that some elements outside the Church
had “distorted” the document, but it diverged sharply from Marxism. Moreover,
only bishops—and not priests—could interpret it. Dom Eugenio told the officers
that Medellin was “original” and one of the “best things the Church has ever done.”
It sparked a “healthy dynamism” in the institution.”

But Dom Eugenio also tried to allay the Situacads fears about Medellin’s poten-
tially subversive phrases. He gave the officers copies of a secret Church report that
summarized a meeting of presidents of episcopal social action commissions from
ten Latin American countries. The meeting had taken place in Bahia in April 1971.
This extraordinary document revealed how CELAM centrists were reacting to con-
servative criticisms of Medellin by quietly trying to control its impact within the
Church. This action preceded the well-known 1972 CELAM election in which con-
servative Colombian bishop Dom Alfonso Lopez Trujillo won the CELAM presi-

125

Glossary and Key to Abbreviations

Abertura—the political opening started under the administration of
President Ernesto Geisel (1974-1979) and continued under President
I050 Baptista de Oliveira Figueiredo (1979-1985). It resulted in the
return to civilian rule.

ACB—Ac§o Catélica Brasileira (Brazilian Catholic Action). A movement for
the Catholic laity (nonclergy) ﬁrst organized in the 1930s and politi-
cally signiﬁcant in the 1950s and 1960s.

ACM—Arquivo Antonio Carlos (da Silva) Muricy

ADBPVR—Arquivo da Diocese de Barra do Pirai—Volta Redonda (Archive
of the Diocese of Barra do Pirai—Volta Redonda)

ADESG—Associag:5o dos Diplomados da Escola Superior de Guerra
(National War College Alumni Association)

AEAASS—Archivo de la Embajada de la Repliblica Argentina ante la Santa
Sede (Archive of the Argentine Embassy to the Holy See)

AEL—ArquiVo Edgard Leuenroth
AESP—Arquivo do Estado de S50 Paulo (Archive of the State of S50 Paulo)
AI—1—Institutional Act No. 1

AI-5—Institutional Act No. 5. Issued on December 13, 1968, the ﬁfth and
most harsh in a series of dictatorial decrees by the military regime. It
closed the Congress, eliminated civil liberties and freedom of the
press, and gave the military carte blanche to squash the opposition.

AIB—Ac§o Integralista Brasileira (Brazilian Integralist Action). A quasi-
fascist organization favored by conservative ofﬁcers and churchmen
in the 19303.

ALN—Ag§o Libertadora Nacional (National Liberating Action). The most
threatening urban guerrilla organization of the late 1960s and early
1970s. It was headed by Carlos Marighella, who was assassinated in
November 1969. Members of the Dominican order collaborated with
the ALN.

Social Justice or Subversion?

dency and campaigned to roll back Medellin. In effect, the bishops at Bahia were
quietly trying to achieve for all of Latin America what the Grupo da Situagao want-
ed the CNBB to do for Brazil. They echoed the Medellin conclusions’ criticisms of
dependency, underdevelopment, and human rights violations. Yet they also sought
to moderate the progressive clergy and the radical goals of Medellin by advocating
a more traditional pastoral approach. First, they criticized pastoral workers who
concentrated on social issues at the expense of religious salvation. Second, they
advocated a top-down approach for shaping social change in Latin America. The
best groups for achieving this goal were elites: university students, businessmen,
politicians, military ofﬁcers, and leaders of organizations for the rural and urban
poor. Third, and most important, they called on fellow bishops to act ﬁrmly against
Marxist “inﬁltration” in the Church.“

”Correcting” the Subversive Clergy

The two sides also discussed the practical ramiﬁcations of the conﬂict over
social justice and subversion. In particular, they tried to reduce tensions by seeking
a mechanism to resolve the cases of priests accused of subversion. The bishops and
the military alike saw the need for the Church to rein in some of the activist clergy,
although for different reasons. The Grupo da Situagao identiﬁed these men as
opponents of the regime. The bishops looked to protect priests and activists and to
remove stumbling blocks to dialogue with the generals.

The bishops and the generals agreed that a major cause of Church-state friction
was lack of control over their respective rank and ﬁle. Although they had different
styles, both the Church and the armed forces relied on hierarchy, discipline, and
obedience. The Church was especially vulnerable on these points because of the cri-
sis of the clergy sparked by post—Vatican II liberalization. Many priests rejected
authority and discipline, including obligatory celibacy. Hundreds left the ministry.
Lack of control made the Church appear weak and disorganized. The renovation of
the Church was “an oﬂicial process, commanded by the pope,” Dom Avelar told the
officers. “There are, unfortunately, errors.”32 By leading the institution to renew
itself and to eliminate support for the political status quo, the clerical crises’ dam-
age to authority further reduced the bishops’ ability to negotiate with the regime.
One inﬂuential progressive Church bulletin described base—hierarchy harmony as
“fundamental” for a successful dialogue. “Without this, new crises will occur, slow-
ly leading to deeper conﬂicts and ruptures.”33

The military faced a similar challenge in the turbulent early 1960s when many

126

Social Justice or Subversion?

soldiers and sailors went so far as to mutiny in favor of the left’s call for basic social
reforms. After the hard-liners took power with Al—5, it was the turn of the right-
wing security forces to veer out of control. President Médici privately expressed
frustration to Dom Eugenio about his inability to command effectively against the
abuses occurring at lower levels of the armed forces (Dom Eugenio interview). One
of the worst cases occurred in the barracks at Barra Mansa, where ofﬁcers tortured
and killed their own soldiers.

Bishops and ofﬁcers identiﬁed with each other’s plights. For Church-state
decompression to work, the bishops needed a “prior understanding” with the
regime about measures against the clergy or at the very least a subsequent expla-
nation of the motives. Such communication would strengthen authority.“

At its ﬁrst meeting the Bipartite worked to build this linkage. According to the
military’s minutes, Professor Padilha observed that the governments security
structure was varied and complex, making it difﬁcult to solve “local problems” and
therefore necessitating the centralization of Church-state contact.35 The Situac5o’s
postmeeting report recommended greater communication between the CNBB and
the “key elements” of the governments information and security services. It further
suggested the establishment of Church—government dialogue at the regional level
and the selection of a special presidential assistant for Church affairs.” The bish-
ops, the Situagao later noted, wanted to “take responsibility for controlling priests
whose actions might be considered harmﬁil to the government.” As Dom Aloisio
had stated, “The Church would like to be informed with respect to the activity of its
members concerning security, with the idea of fostering the necessary correc-
tions.”37

This kind of discussion with the bishops was a political hot potato inside the
regime. In 1964 the Church and President Castello Branco had ﬁrst tried to set up a
clearinghouse for cases against the clergy. After meeting with a delegation of bish-
ops, Castello Branco telegraphed the entire episcopate with the suggestion to con-
tact the Ministry of Justice about priests in trouble with the authorities. Castello
Branco offered this measure as an olive branch to the Church, which suffered heav-
ily in the ﬁrst months of the dictatorship.” It evidently had little effect, for priests,
lay activists, and even bishops continued as targets of the security forces. Many in

J the military were either ignorant of the agreement or simply chose to disregard it.

The poor transition of administration from Castello Branco to Costa e Silva further
weakened compliance (Bruneau 1974b:195, inc. n. 54).

President Médici vetoed the presidential assistant and the regional talks but
permitted ofﬁcers from the SNI, CIE, and the ofﬁce of the Army chief of staff to con-

127

Social Justice or Subversion?

tinue at the Bipartite (see chapter 5). Dantas Barreto revealed, however, at the
January 1971 Bipartite meeting that Médici had approved Justice Minister Buzaid’s
suggestion of the “possibility” of providing the CNBB with information on the cases
against priests “in order to help the government resolve them.” The Situagads
secret conclusions even advocated turning over allegedly subversive priests “into
the custody of the bishops.”39 The Church had provided precedent for such a solu-
tion. For example, in 1964 Dom Geraldo Proenga de Sigaud, the ultraconservative
archbishop of Diamantina, kept a radical priest under arrest in the archiepiscopal
residence (Serbin 1993b:42o—21; Alves 1979:271—74). The police turned other arrest-
ed churchmen over to their bishops (Della Cava 1985:73). In 1972 Dom Eugenio
tried to shield a priest from arrest by holding him in Church quarters (see below).
At the Bipartite, Dom Ivo pressed for the creation of an “arrangement” permitting
greater exchange of information, but SNI chief Fontoura, following Médici’s wish to
avoid official military contact with the bishops, restricted contact to civilian chan-
nels such as the Justice Ministry and the Federal Police.4° Fontoura thus vetoed the
Situagads hopes for a direct CNBB-intelligence community link.

The Bipartite itself became the crucible for mediating cases. Both sides accept-
ed the proposal of Lieutenant Colonel Sergio Mario Pasquali of the office of the
Army chief of staff that the commission divide its meetings into two parts: ﬁrst, dis-
cussion of “doctrinal matters” and, second, “concrete, practical cases” of Church-
regime conﬂictf“ One example was Dom Eugénio’s effort to defuse the activities of
militant laity and clergymen in Rio de Janeiro upon his assumption of the archdio-
cese in early 1971. At the April Bipartite meeting General Muricy raised the case of
Father José Sainz Artola, the vicar of the favela Bras de Pina in Rio de Janeiro. Artola
had earlier gone to jail for resisting a government plan to move his parishioners to
a distant public housing project. Artola was released, but in October 1970, he was
arrested again after allegedly joining a group of men to destroy a government ofﬁce
in protest of a new tax for favela improvements. Dom Eugenio, Alceu Amoroso
Lima, and opposition leaders defended the priest against accusations of Marxism
and subversion. Artola went free in January 1971 pending judgment.“ General
Muricy complained about the priest’s “undigniﬁed” behavior, and the cardinal
promised to transfer him to another parish.“ Artola was later convicted but
excused from his sentence.

At the same meeting, Dom Eugenio announced that he would reorganize
IBRADES and JOC along religious lines. He asked the military not to interfere in
this effort. General Muricy backed the initiative, but he also requested that the car-
dinal await “confirmation.” Coming in the wake of the security forces’ attacks on

128

Social Justice or Subversion?

the two Church organizations and Muricy’s intervention on their behalf, this
exchange indicated that the general was negotiating support for Dom Eugénids
plan within the armed forces and possibly averting further action against Jocistas
and IBRADES participants.“ Such discussion highlighted the Bipartite as a forum
for privileged communication and Church-regime negotiation.

Another case involved Father Francois Jentel, a French missionary who had
worked with peasants in Mato Grosso since 1954. In 1972 a land development com-
pany tried to force out the villagers of Santa Terezinha, where Jentel worked. The
dispute broke into armed conﬂict after the company manager destroyed a clinic the
priest was building. Although he was not present during the worst clash, Father
Jentel was arrested, convicted of violating the LSN, and sentenced to ten years in
prison. Claiming that Jentel had distributed arms to the peasants, the members of
the military tribunal termed him a “dangerous element” who fomented class strug-
gle and conﬂict with the armed forces. A civilian judge dissented, stating that Jentel
deserved not a prison sentence but a prize for displaying “solidarity” with the poor.
During the proceedings ]entel’s lawyer pointed out that “national security” was “a
badly understood subject in this country.” Dom Ivo, other bishops, and Catholics
from throughout Brazil protested the verdict. Father Jentel was found innocent on
appeal and immediately left the country for France. Jentel’s bishop, the Spaniard
Dom Pedro Casaldaliga, was also implicated in the incidents and was nearly
expelled from Brazil.45

Unbeknownst to the public, the Bipartite helped smooth Father ]entel’s exit
from Brazil and orchestrated his eventual—though brief—return. Candido
Mendes revealed that the CNBB discussed the matter intensively with General
Golbery, President Geisel’s chief of civilian staff, “in order to facilitate the actions
and decisions of the government.” To avert further difficulties, Jentel wrote Golbery
and offered to leave the country. Fearing negative publicity, General Muricy com-
plained that the priest had given an interview to Le Monde about his experience in
Brazil. Dom Aloisio told the commission, however, that Father Jentel had promised
to maintain “discretion,” avoiding contact with the press and therefore any “undue
exploitation” of the episode. Candido Mendes asked Muricy to have the govern-
ment consider ]entel’s return to Brazil. The general agreed to take up the matter,
but only after the furor over the incident had died down. Seldom had the CNBB
been “put to the test” as it had in negotiating Father ]entel’s exit, Candido Mendes
stated. In one of its secret reports on the Bipartite, the Grupo da Situacao noted
that Candido Mendes and the CNBB were profoundly interested in “cooperating
with the government.” If Father Jentel spoke out further about the episode, the

129

Social Justice or Subversion?

Situacﬁo could use his words as an “instrument . . . to force the Grupo Religioso to
recognize its absolute lack of control over ”‘certain problems.”45 In December 1975
Father Jentel returned to Brazil, only to be expelled by order of Geisel.

Willingness to control the rank and ﬁle had limits. Using his contacts in the
armed forces, Dom Eugenio prevented the imprisonment of lay activists and cler-
gymen in Rio and elsewhere. Dom Eugenio had a virtual twenty-four-hour hot line
to Lieutenant Colonel Paciﬁco of the Grupo da Situagao, which allowed the cardi-
nal to raise questions about Church-military problems anywhere in Brazil. Paciﬁco,
for example, immediately contacted area commanders to obtain information on
detained priests (Paciﬁco interview). In January 1972, however, the authorities vio-
lated the agreement that allowed the cardinal himself to handle cases of alleged
subversion. The police had wanted to arrest Father Joao Daniel de Castro Filho on
suspicion of subversive activities in the suburban parish of Oswaldo Cruz (Dom
Eugenio interview). According to an underground opposition newspaper, a DOPS
oﬂicer tortured a woman picked up on suspicion of distributing pamphlets for the
priest. Dom Eugenio convinced the police to allow Father Daniel to remain in the
archdiocesan residence as if on “retreat.” Dom Eugenio later agreed to let him give
a deposition at the DOPS. Instead of returning the father to Dom Eugénio’s cus-
tody, however, the police held him incommunicado (Dom Eugenio interview).47
Dom Eugenio tried but failed to reach Muricy and other top generals to register a
complaint. In protest he quit the Bipartite (Dom Eugenio interview). A judge later
released Father Daniel and related suspects, and the regime ﬁred the police chief
who had detained the priest (Dom Waldyr interview). Top ofﬁcers also visited Dom
Eugenio in an attempt to convince him to return to the Bipartite. Dom Eugénio
reﬁised. In his secret report on the episode, General Paula Couto wrote that the
“main cause” of Dom Eugénids irritation was not the arrest of Father Daniel, whose
“faults” the cardinal recognized, but rather the “difficulties” he had experienced in
contacting the authorities. Such lack of communication could undermine Dom

7 £6

Eugénios prestige” among his clergy, the general concluded.“

The Dominican Aﬂair

The imprisonment of the Dominican friars for involvement with Marighella
and the ALN inevitably hovered in the background of the discussions about
allegedly subversive priests. Domestically the assassination of Marighella was a
major victory for the regime. It marked the beginning of the end of the short life of
the guerrilla movement in Brazil. But it also contributed greatly to damaging
Brazil’s foreign image. In the United States, for instance, Look magazine published

130

Social Justice or Subversion?

an article on the affair titled “Brazil: Government by Torture.” One of the
Dominicans, Frei Tito de Alencar Lima, described in detail his horrible torture by
the S50 Paulo DOI—CODI and his subsequent suicide attempt (“Brazilz Government
by Torture” 1970). The incident put the bishops in the difﬁcult and, for some,
embarrassing position of having to defend men accused of aiding the most danger-
ous armed threat to the regime. I

The crux of the matter for Church-state relations revolved around two
Dominicans who were brutally tortured until they revealed the place and code for
meeting with Marighella. Fleury and the DEOPS-SP then used the two men to lure
Marighella into an ambush. The exact circumstances are in dispute to this day.
Regardless, the regime and its allies tried to use the incident to undermine the pro-
gressive Church by demonstrating links between the clergy and armed revolution-
aries. They even tried to involve Dom Hélder. The regime’s version received heavy
coverage in the press, and the police, the military court, and right-wing Catholic
columnists attacked the accused Dominicans as virtual heretics who should be
expelled from the Church. There is no doubt that the Dominican order in Brazil

helped the ALN in a number of important ways—for example, by providing safe

passage out of the country for hunted militants and by scanning a potential guer-
rilla front in the Amazon. But the regime failed to connect the Dominicans or, for
that matter, any other clergyman or Church worker to violent acts. Nevertheless, a
number of bishops did not defend the Dominicans. Dom Vicente Scherer, for
example, believed they should be punished if convicted. In particular, Dom
Vicente, Dom Agnelo Rossi, and Dom Lucas (who was himself a Dominican)
appeared insensitive to the prisoners’ plight even after learning of their torture.
Dom Paulo, however, lent his support to the prisoners. Representatives of the
Dominican order also came to Brazil from Rome to press for a resolution of the case
and to demonstrate solidarity.49

The Bipartite discussed the Dominican affair only superﬁcially. The bishops
refused to accept the military’s allegations that the Dominicans had collaborated
with the police against Marighella. At this point the matter was dropped (Candido
Mendes interview 3). There is not even the slightest allusion to it in General
Muricy’s papers. The two sides certainly had ample opportunity and reason to dis-
cuss the case further. The accused friars and other clergymen and seminarians
involved in the episode in both Sao Paulo and Rio Grande do Sul were jailed in
November 1969—a full year before the start of the Bipartite. The conviction of the
three friars came less than two months before, and they did not go free until
October 1973—a full year before the Bipartite’s end. In the interim their lawyer,

131

Social Justice or Subversion?

Mario Simas, appealed the case, and they participated with other political prison-
ers in two hunger strikes. Meanwhile, Catholics abroad pressured the regime for
better treatment of the prisoners. In August 1974, the ﬁnal month of the Bipartite,
Frei Tito, banished from Brazil, hanged himself in France.5°

Why did the Grupo Religioso not try to help these clergymen? The outcome was
already a fait accompli by the start of the Bipartite.“ The dubious proceedings of
the military investigation and trial violated even the regime’s own norms. These
political trials were used routinely against the opposition since 1964. Moreover, to
seek the reversal of one of the government’s major victories against the Church
would be futile. The Dominican affair was another example of the limits of the
Bipartite, and also of the unwillingness or inability of the bishops to push too hard
against the regime. Dom Lucas, for instance, had refused a request by Simas that he
testify at the Dominicans’ trial that he had seen marks of torture on Frei Tito.” At
the start of the Bipartite, the CNBB president was Dom Vicente, who showed the
least sympathy for the Dominicans. Finally, the Vatican itself took little interest in
the case (see chapter 4).

Conclusion

The Bipartite began with optimism about the prospects for Church-regime col-
laboration. As General Muricy stated, “the separation between the spiritual—the
soul of Brazil—and the temporal was inadmissable.” Church-state cooperation lay
at the heart of Brazilian reality, and in late 1970 and early 1971 the bishops and the
generals believed it would continue that way. The commission enabled the two
sides t_o discuss their ideological differences. The Grupo da Situagéo was so
conﬁdent that it even considered holding public meetings of churchmen and gov-
ernment officials “to inform public opinion of the true dimensions of reciprocal
understanding between the Church and the Revolution.”53

The moment was extraordinary. Brazil’s ecclesiastical and military intelligentsia
acted to conciliate their respective institutions. It is surprising that the Church’s
catalyst was not a bishop close to the military such as Dom Eugénio—though his
role was important—but a leading member of the Catholic left, Candido Mendes.
He and the progressive bishops of the CNBB debated ideas with the heralds of
national security. The debate involved a high-level philosophical discussion over
the meaning of social justice, pastoral activities, Church doctrine, papal encyclicals,
and democracy. Muricy, Paula Couto, Golbery, and other members of the Situagao
demonstrated the seriousness with which the Army believed its role transcended

132

Social Justice or Subversion?

the purely military and extended to social issues and politics. Both the military and
the Church saw themselves in the Vanguard of Brazilian development. Each had
reafﬁrmed its membership in Brazil’s political elite.

In the absence of a free press and an open political system, the bishops and
ofﬁcers had taken it upon themselves to create the terms of political debate and to
wrestle over them. In the wake of the repression that had emasculated Brazilian
politics, the Bipartite was a partial surrogate for the political system. Debates that
could have taken place in the press, the Congress, and the streets were restricted to
the inner room of Church-state relations.

The two groups analyses of Catholic pastoral innovation and the Brazilian polit-
ical situation revealed serious disagreements over the means to socioeconomic
progress. For decades the Church and the military had been working to establish
models for Brazilian society. Both agreed in principle on the need for social justice
as deﬁned by the pope and the bishops. But the existence of widely different con-
cepts of Catholicism reinforced the contrast between the two groups. The cold war
mentality of national security required that all efforts at social justice ﬁrst pass the
litmus test of subversion. In the hyperpolarization of the era, the military viewed as
its enemy anything that did not explicitly declare itself anti-Communist. It is iron-
ic that the Medellin manifesto, a cornerstone of the Church’s own alternative to vio-
lent change, fell into this category. Polarization blurred the distinctions between
social justice and subversion. It led the military to equate the two, for, in a funda-
mentally unequal society such as Brazil’s, even the slightest change could be inter-
preted as a threat to the social order.

Thus while the Bipartite sensitized each side to the other’s outlook, it was only
partially successﬁil in establishing a middle ground between Church and military.
Their goals were countervailing forces: the Church was for social justice, the regime
against subversion. The bishops recognized the dangers of the latter, but refused to
give up the tenets of Medellin. They advocated democracy by emphasizing the need
for broader political participation in Brazilian society. The ofﬁcers supported social
justice, but only as it might ﬁt into their anti-Communist agenda. Their notion of
“social democracy” was authoritarian and intolerant of dissent. For the armed
forces, social justice almost always became subversion. Moreover, the Grupo da
Situacao saw the Church as encroaching on the armed forces’ prerogative as holder
of state power and director of Brazilian development. Unable to solve the political
and ideological puzzles, the Bipartite concentrated increasingly on settling speciﬁc
conﬂicts among the lower echelons. Both sides of the Bipartite perhaps engaged in
wishful thinking, however, when they deﬁned Church-military difficulties as pri-

133

Social Justice or Subversion?

marily a base-hierarchy issue. As Dom Eugénio pointed out to the ofﬁcers, there
were differences between military and religious discipline. Military order depend-
ed on strict authority, but because the Church was attempting to renovate its struc-
tures and stimulate more active lay participation, it required that its leadership dia-
logue with its base. In Dom Eugénio’s words, this process rested “on patience and
slow and continuous work.” The differences sharpened greatly as the generals
stressed national security and the bishops social justice. Indeed, the repression of
the opposition continued even after General Muricy admitted to the bishops and
the press that the government had defeated the most serious revolutionary
threats.54 Furthermore, the campaign against subversion had hit the Church lead-
ership. The Bipartite’s most serious challenges involved disputes between the two
hierarchies in which the conﬂict between social justice and subversion continued to
fester.

134

Chapter 7 The Cotton Between the Crystals

his oral memoir General Muricy aptly summed up the Bipartite
as a group that “served as cotton between crystals” (Muricy
1993:424). It helped Brazil’s two most important institutions to
coexist during some of the most tense and delicate moments of

 

their historic relationship. This chapter revisits several exam-
ples of the commission’s efforts at conﬂict resolution. First, it stud-
ies the dispute over commemoration of Brazil’s independence
sesquicentennial in 1972. The second example provides a study of
the bishops’ public/private dichotomy in the person of one of the
country’s leading progressives. In both instances, conﬂict revolved
around institutional competition between the Church and the
armed forces, notions of patriotism, and the Church’s new grass-
roots social action. Third, the chapter examines the attempt by the
bishops to use the Bipartite to salvage the Catholic privileges and sta-
tus of the moral concordat. The underlying question is: how could
the Church maintain its importance in Brazilian life in the context of
an authoritarian system seeking rapid modernization of the coun-
try? As the discussion will demonstrate, the bishops compromised
to safeguard institutional interests. The chapter concludes by con-
sidering their strategy as well as the effectiveness—and limits—of
the Bipartite.

The 1972 Independence Celebrations:
The Battle over Patriotism

The case of Brazil’s 1972 sesquicentennial celebrations drama-
tized the commission’s ability to defuse potentially explosive situa-
tions. As a national holiday, Independence Day (September 7) pro-

135

Glossary and Key to Abbreviations

APER]—Arquivo Piiblico do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (Public Archive of the State of Rio de
Janeiro)
BEMFAM—Sociedade de Bem-Estar Familiar do Brasil (Brazilian Society for Family

Welfare). Against the Church’s wishes, it set up family planning clinics and distrib-
uted birth control devices.

BMFA—-Branca de Mello Franco Alves Collection

BNM—Brasil: Nunca Mais (Brazil Never Again). A project sponsored by the archdiocese of
S50 Paulo that collected military court records documenting the practice of torture.
Brasil: nunca mais became a best-seller in 1985. The archive is an important source for
scholars of the military regime.

CAALL—Centro Alceu Amoroso Lima para a Liberdade (Alceu Amoroso Lima Center for
Liberty)

CDADDH—Centro de Documentacién y Archivo para la Defensa de los Derechos
Humanos (Documentation Center and Archive for the Defense of Human Rights)

CEBs—Comunidades Eclesiais de Base (Basic Ecclesial Communities). One of the most
important innovations of the Popular Church of the 1970s and 1980s.

CEDIC—Central de Documentagéio e Informagﬁo Cientiﬁca “Prof. Casemiro dos Reis Filho”

CELAM—Conselho Episcopal Latino-americano (Council of Latin American Bishops). Its
second general conference at Medellin, Colombia, in 1968 resulted in a radical docu-
ment calling for social justice in Latin America.

CENIMAR—Centro de Informacoes da Marinha (Navy Information Center). A secret and
effective military intelligence unit. Political prisoners were tortured there.

CIE—Centro de Informagoes do Exército (Army Information Center). An important mili-
tary intelligence unit charged with ﬁghting the guerrillas in the Amazon and else-
where.

CISA—Centro de Informagoes e Seguranga da Aeronautica (Air Force Information and
Security Center). An important military intelligence unit. Political prisoners were tor-
tured there.

CJP-BR——Pontificia Comissao Justiga e Paz-Segao Brasileira (Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice
Commission—Brazilian Section)

CJP-SP—Comiss5o Justigta e Paz da Arquidiocese de S50 Paulo (Peace and Justice
Commission of the Archdiocese of Sao Paulo)

CM—Comunicad0 Mensa]. A monthly publication that reported on CNBB activities and
published key documents of the organization.

CNBB——Conferéncia Nacional dos Bispos do Brasil (National Conference of the Bishops of
Brazil). A national organization of Brazil’s bishops that met regularly to discuss reli-
gious, social, and political issues. It became the voice of the Brazilian Church in the
1970s.

xiv

The Cotton Between the Crystals

vided the Church and the military with the opportunity to leave their mark on the
country. Soldiers marched in parades; priests and bishops prayed for the welfare of
Brazil. Both institutions viewed themselves as forming the basis of Brazilian nation-
hood.

After 1964, Independence Day took on added signiﬁcance as the generals and
their opponents made it part of the battle over the hearts and minds of Brazilians}
In 1967, for instance, the regime temporarily closed the radio station of the north-
eastern archdiocese of Sao Luis do Maranhao after it broadcast a message doubting
Brazil’s independence in light of its deep poverty and exploitation by foreign coun-
tries. The following year, congressman Mércio Moreira Alves urged Brazilians to
boycott Independence Day. This incident enraged the military and led to the dec-
laration of AI-5. In Goiania, students tried to disrupt the traditional Independence
Day parade (Duarte 1998:136—37). In 1969, urban guerrillas embarrassed the regime
by capturing U.S. ambassador Burke Elbrick just three days before the holiday. The
government met the kidnappers’ demands by broadcasting revolutionary state-
ments and then ﬂying ransomed political prisoners out of the country on
September 7. The same year, subversives threatened to stop the ceremonies in Sao
Paulo? In 1980 the government expelled an Italian priest who protested against the
regime by refusing to celebrate an Independence Day mass.

Both Church and state prepared to use the 1972 observances as a political plat-
form. In January 1972, the CNBB announced the Church’s intentions to collaborate
in the ofﬁcial sesquicentennial program, and in April it revealed that the episcopate
would prepare a special document for the occasion. The announcement generated
press speculation about the political impact of the statement?‘ The year held addi-
tional meaning for the clergy because it marked the centenary of the start of the
Religious Question, one of the most serious Church—state conﬂicts in Brazilian his-
tory. The archdiocese of Olinda and Recife commemorated the inauguration of
Dom Vital, a protagonist of the 1870s crisis. His seat, ironically, was now occupied
by Dom Hélder, the symbol of the new Church-state difﬁcultiesf’ Meanwhile,
President Médici declared on national television that the government would bring
from Portugal the preserved remains of Dom Pedro I, Brazil’s ﬁrst emperor, for a
tour of the country. In addition, General Antonio Jorge Corréa, the ofﬁcial coordi-
nator of the sesquicentennial, planned a major military presence for the weeklong
celebrations. Carlos Fico describes the military’s use of public commemorations as
an attempt at “decorative citizenship” (1997:93). Celebrating its own ﬁftieth
anniversary, the PCB termed Médici’s plans a “propaganda maneuver.”5

The CNBB had named Archbishop Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns to oversee the

136

Independence Day celebrations such as the 1967 parade in Rio drew large crowds and became

instruments of the political struggle between the dictators and the opposition. A group of
Brazilians (above) watch as soldiers carrying weapons display the nation’s military force.

The Cotton Between the Crystals

preparation of the Church’s national sesquicentennial mass in Sao Paulo, where
Dom Pedro I had proclaimed separation from Portugal in 1822. Dom Paulo coop-

erated with the state and the municipal authorities. In August, however, control of .

the event turned into a power struggle between the CNBB and the Army when they
reached an impasse over dates and places. The regime had assumed that the
Church would participate at a national thanksgiving service set for September 7,
but the generals had not consulted the CNBB, which had chosen September 3 for
the Te Deum. An editorial in the archdiocesan newspaper 0 S670 Paulo recognized
that some might ﬁnd the separation of ceremonies strange, but it explained that the
CNBB wanted to avoid mixing religion with the “festive, profane, and even martial”
aspects of the ofﬁcial commemoration. The earlier date would also permit the hun-
dred bishops coming to Sao Paulo from throughout Brazil to return to their home
dioceses in time for the September 7 masses.“ Furthermore, Church and govern-
ment disagreed over the site of the religious proceedings. Dom Paulo had obtained
written permission from the mayor’s ofﬁce to hold the CNBB mass at the Ipiranga
Monument, which commemorated Dom Pedro’s declaration of independence on
the banks of the Ipiranga River.7 In August, General Corréa overrode the city’s deci-
sion. He claimed that remodeling of the site for the government ceremonies made
it unusable before the seventh. When Dom Ivo tried to negotiate privately with
Corréa, the general insisted that the bishops switch the Te Deum to September 7 to
comply with the ofﬁcial program.8 According to the newspaper O Estado de Sdo
Paulo, the work at the Parque da Independéncia was done by late August.
Meanwhile, Dom Agnelo Rossi and Nuncio Dom Umberto Mozzoni had met on
August 22 with President Médici and agreed to a sesquicentennial Te Deum to be
celebrated in Rome.9

The battle over scheduling reﬂected the growing differences between the
Church and the military. In 1972, competing views of patriotism especially stood
out. In a draft of its sesquicentennial statement, for example, the CNBB empha-
sized the Church’s historical contributions to Brazilian national identity. Nowhere
else in the modern world had the Church identiﬁed itself so closely with the histo-
ry of a people, the document continued. It would be “impossible to eliminate the
Church without essentially disﬁguring the image of [Brazilian] nationality.”1°

In a newspaper article, Justice Minister Buzaid rebuked the bishops for their
unpatriotic attitudes. “Those who should preserve the Christian traditions of the
country opt for an anti—Christianity,” he wrote. The bishops “no longer feel part of
the Brazilian family and dedicate themselves to a utopia of celebrations that com-
pete with the sesquicentenary, as if Brazil had two different and parallel histories?“

138

The Cotton Between the Crystals

Tensions mounted when the Grupo da Situacao learned that the Church’s
sesquicentennial document and other publications would contain language critical
of the regime.” For months the left had already been exploiting the commemora-
tion for political purposes, and it viewed the Church as an ally against the regime.“
Also, Alceu Amoroso Lima called for amnesty for all political prisoners and a
return to the rule of law.“ The Situacﬁo feared the bishops’ words might cause com-
motion in Sao Paulo.

Strong precedents for trouble existed. Under General Humberto de Souza
Mello, a hard-liner who enthusiastically supported the notorious security forces,
Brazil’s largest city bore the brunt of the repression. On the opposing side, Dom
Paulo was emerging as the nation’s leading spokesman for human rights. At a
regional meeting of bishops in June he led the way in drafting one of the most force-
ful Church protests against torture. The bishops called upon all Brazilians, includ-
ing the government, to use the sesquicentenary as a moment for “a sincere exami-
nation of conscience.” Army intelligence considered this document highly subver-
sive.15

In late August 1972, Dom Paulo conﬁrmed the military’s fears. He announced
that the September 3 document, to be titled “The Church and the Sesquicentenary
of Brazil’s Independence,” would ask Brazilians to reﬂect on the true meaning of
independence. In addition, he recalled that the First Republic had left the Church
out of the ofﬁcial celebrations of the independence centennial in 1922. “The orga-
nizers appeared to have forgotten the contribution of the Church, especially the
clergy, in the formation of the Brazilian fatherland,” Dom Paulo stated, adding that
in 1972 priests were once again misunderstood for their actions in favor of the coun-
try’s development.“ These remarks recalled the jailed Dominicans, who during
their trial were compared to the many priests who had taken part in Brazil’s inde-
pendence struggle (Simas 1986:111—13).

Another example of the military’s concerns was the Church document
Celebragﬁes Litzirgicas (Liturgical celebrations), a mass booklet specially produced
for the sesquicentennial. The CNBB’s National Liturgical Commission had ofﬁcial-
ly approved Celebragries and was distributing it throughout Brazil for the September
3 mass. The CIE, CENIMAR, both the Rio and the S50 Paulo ofﬁces of the SNI, and
General Muricy all reviewed the content after obtaining a copy from Dom Ivo. The
armed forces concluded that Celebragﬁes was “dangerous, ambiguous, and easily
exploitable by subversive elements.”17

Celebragﬁes contained phrases from liberation theology that could easily be con-
strued as inﬂammatory challenges to the regime. In one example, a reﬂection on

139

The Cotton Between the Crystals

the classic liberation text of Exodus lamented the exploitation of Brazil’s workers.
In the workers’ mass, the priest asked God to liberate “your sons from all forms of
slavery, ancient and modern.” The text of a meditation for youth decried social

inequities such as “unjust salaries” and “lack of hospital assistance in the interior” 2

and further questioned the values echoed in the government’s catchy publicity
phrases. “Patriotism is not noise,” the text stated. “It doesn’t consist only of shout-
ing, in believing oneself bigger than others, in waving ﬂags. If it is genuine, it has a
basis in reality and truth” (Celebragies litzirgicas 1972214, 44-53).

A major crisis was in the making. Fearing the impact of Celebragﬁes and other
statements, members of the Situacao protested to the Grupo Religioso and tried to
learn more about the Church’s intentions. In the ﬁnal days of August 1972, Muricy
met once with both Dom Eugénio and papal nuncio Dom Umberto Mozzoni and
three times with Candido Mendes. The general told Candido Mendes the situation
was “grave” and might lead to a suspension of the Bipartite. The two sides agreed
to an emergency meeting of the Bipartite on August 31, 1972. The encounter took
place just as the CNBB’s key Comissao Representativa (Representative Commis-
sion), which spoke for all bishops, convened in Rio to draft the long-awaited sesqui-
centennial statement. Going to extremes to maintain secrecy, General Muricy
stressed to Candido Mendes that the emergency Bipartite meeting would be “pri-
vate” and “personal.” Dom Aloisio, Dom Ivo, Dom Avelar, Dom Eugenio, Dom
Paulo, and Dom Mozzoni represented the Church; General Muricy, Tarcisio
Padilha, and an oﬂicer each from the SNI and the CIE appeared for the govern-
ment.18

The atmosphere was tense. According to the military’s secret notes, General
Muricy stated that he was worried with “what might happen at the sesquicenten-
nial commemorations and that it would be Very serious and dangerous if there were
a clash between the Church and the government.” Dom Ivo complained that
nobody from the government had ever contacted the Church about collaborating
in the celebration. It was too late to change dates. Dom Eugenio agreed.”

As attention shifted to the more serious matter of the Church’s publications, the
initial posturing took a remarkable turn toward conciliation. Dom Ivo informed
the commission that, although copies of Celebragﬁes had reached every bishop in
Brazil, he had requested that they be withheld from the people. Dom Eugenio then
revealed what he had earlier told General Muricy in private: the archdioceses of Rio
de Ianeiro and Sao Paulo had each printed ninety thousand copies of Celelvragcies
but had omitted the Bible commentaries considered most dangerous by the
Situagao. General Muricy then reviewed a list of other concerns, all addressed in a

140

The Cotton Between the Crystals

mollifying manner by the bishops. Dom Avelar, the CNBB vice president, disclosed
that he had “personally controlled” the drafting of the episcopal sesquicentennial
statement. According to the archbishop, the document was “clean” and “contains
nothing that could provide cause for frictions.” The prelate further agreed to pro-
vide a copy of the statement as soon as it was typed?“ Thus on September 1, 1972,
the Church announced publicly that its document was being substituted with a
mere “message” from the CNBB. The conservative daily 0 Estado de Sdo Paulo
praised the CNBB’s “prudence” in avoiding polemics.”

A look at the debates of the Representative Commission further highlights the
seriousness of the sesquicentennial dispute. From August 29 to August 31, 1972, the
clergymen had wrestled in private with the text of the Independence communiqué.
Dom Ivo reminded his colleagues that the content was conﬁdential. The Church’s
published minutes of the gathering do not mention the Bipartite, but the bishops
were clearly concerned with frayed Church-state relations. Opinions ranged from
saying nothing to publishing a strong commentary on Brazilian reality. All of the
key Grupo Religioso members were there to express the caution advised by the
Bipartite. However, Dom Ivo and others stressed that the faithful expected their
bishops to speak out at this historic moment. The argument that carried sought to
strike a balance between the document’s political meaning and the Church’s need
to follow “supreme criteria,” as Father Avila put it.”

The bishops’ discretion was a major achievement for the Situagao. In mid-
September, Dom Luciano José Cabral Duarte—the government’s archconservative
contact among the bishops—conﬁded privileged information to Professor Padilha
about the gathering of the Representative Commission. He stated that a number of
bishops had wanted a formal condemnation of torture. Dom Luciano was
opposed, arguing that it was tendentious and “incompatible” with an episcopal
statement, especially for the sesquicentennial. If the CNBB were to denounce
human rights abuses, the bishop stated, it should also call attention to the crimes
committed daily in Brazil’s cities. The Church had three alternatives. The ﬁrst
two-—total indifference toward the government or direct confrontation—contra-
dicted the institution’s strategy for survival in even the most totalitarian of soci-
eties. The third and best alternative was collaboration. According to Dom Luciano,
a number of bishops reacted strongly to this suggestion, but, he reasoned, cooper-
ation was the long-standing policy of the CNBB and the historical tradition of the
Brazilian Church. Why should it withhold its contribution just as Brazil was devel-
oping into a “great power”? “The government is not the incarnation of evil,” he
added, reminding his colleagues that the ancient Church had condemned the

141

The Cotton Between the Crystals

Manichaean heresy of dividing the world into good and bad. Dom Luciano’s
motion carried, leading the bishops to describe the sesquicentennial as a time for
deﬁning the “extent and limits of collaboration.” Dom Hélder’s acceptance of the
document, according to Dom Luciano, signiﬁed an additional “victory” for the
Situacao because it compromised the outspoken archbishop’s earlier criticisms of
the regime.”

Nevertheless, the Representative Commission still sought a formula for admon-
ishing the regime on torture. Dom Luciano revealed to Padilha that the bishops
designated a subcommittee to study whether the CNBB should publish a document
elaborating on Dom Paulo’s June statement. The subcommittee vote was three to
two in favor. However, Dom Luciano convinced the subcommittee that the small
majority did not justify a document. In the eyes of the Situacao, yet another crisis
had been avoided.“ Dom Luciano’s important role at the assembly of the
Representative Commission is supported by the published minutes. They show
that some of those present, including Dom Lucas, were concerned that the docu-
ment’s reference to Church-state collaboration would give the impression that the
Church wanted a formal concordat with the state. The text was then modiﬁed to
prevent this interpretation.”

The Situagads internal report on the emergency Bipartite conference spoke tri-
umphantly. It had obtained the suspension of controversial passages in Celebragﬁes,
the moderation of the CNBB’s Independence Day message, and copies of ﬁve
Church documents before publication. The Bipartite had achieved the regime’s goals
of avoiding conﬂict and improving Church-state relations. After nearly two years of
encounters, the positive results were “undeniable.” Demonstrating the Situagads
growing conﬁdence, Professor Padilha even suggested that future episcopal state-

ments be examined by the ofﬁcers “not as a form of censorship” but to avoid new

misunderstandings.25 In effect, he wanted a military Veto on the Church’s actions.
The military postmortem further noted that the “moderating action” of Dom
Eugenio and the nuncio had inﬂuenced Dom Paulo and helped create “an environ-
ment of calm” in S50 Paulo. According to Dom Paulo, it was only a rumor that the
archdiocesan newspaper 0 S430 Paulo would attack the government in its
September 3 edition, for he himself had reviewed it carefully. On September 2 he
sent two copies to the Situagao. Dom Paulo also assured General Muricy that a new
edition of O Clero e a Independéncia (The clergy and Independence), published ﬁfty
years earlier by Archbishop Dom Duarte Leopoldo e Silva, did not contain sus-
pected criticisms of the regime. Dom Paulo added that he expected the Sao Paulo
commemorations to be peaceful. The Grupo da Situagao was convinced that the

142

l

The Cotton Between the Crystals

archbishop truly desired better relations with the Sao Paulo military command.
During the gathering, General Muricy had seized the opportunity to ask the arch-
bishop about his relations with General Souza Mello. Dom Paulo responded that
they were neither good nor bad, as he had yet to have contact with the officer
despite three visits to Second Army headquarters. He maintained that “the prob-
lem was still one of communication.” The Situacads report recommended that
efforts be made to eliminate the “prejudice” between the two men. It was a crucial
moment. Dom Paulo had now participated in two Bipartite meetings and had
described them as “very useful.” In the SituacE1o’s words, he was ready for “approx-
imation” with the regime and “to be talked into joining the group of the moderate
bishops.” Dom Luciano conﬁrmed the military’s conclusions, asserting that Dom
Paulo was a serious but “naive” man inﬂuenced by leftists who had begun to aban-
don him once he adopted “new” and presumably less radical attitudes.”-27

Yet the emergency parley also conﬁrmed that other bishops were uncoopera-
tive. The military report singled out Dom Lucas and Dom Ivo as “not meriting full
conﬁdence.”23 The former oversaw the highly critical 0 Sdo Paulo, while the latter
was combative and publicly deprecated the regime’s economic policies.

Following the meeting, Professor Padilha took Dom Ivo to task for asserting
that Church and state were in “confrontation.” Padilha gave a tendentious though
instructive commentary on the hierarchy’s outlook since 1964. The Church was
criticizing the government “as if that were its principal mission, an attitude all the
more strange if one observed in the recent past, immediately before the Revolution,
the ostensive presence of high prelates of the Church at palace banquets.” The
brusque shift of the Church to the opposition was “illogical” in the context of
Brazilian history, Padilha said. Moreover, the bishops’ public declarations were
unjustiﬁable in light of the Bipartite’s existence. Nevertheless, Dom Luciano noted
that even Dom Ivo had “improved” from his “initial intransigence.”29

The resolution of the sesquicentennial crisis drove home yet another point for
the Situacaot that informal contacts between Bipartite members could bring as
much success as the encounters themselves. The Situacads report observed that
personal communication helped plan effective strategy because it allowed for
greater frankness than the larger, more formal conferences, where rivalries, indi-
vidual interpretations, and institutional concerns could impede candor. The
Situacﬁo, of course, had to choose the right people. Dom Eugenio, Dom Mozzoni,
and Candido Mendes had each used private conversations to settle differences.”
Their efforts largely explained why the bishops made concessions during the emer-
gency meeting.

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

Why, in the ﬁnal analysis, did the bishops give in with respect to their publica-
tions? Did General Muricy’s fear of an Independence Day clash suggest knowledge
of an impending assault by the repressive forces should the Church choose to radi-
calize? The records do not say. Moreover, if he knew, General Muricy could not
reveal such information without seriously compromising the regime. It was per-
haps best to leave concern in that ambiguous region between veiled threat and
friendly warning. Either way, the climate of terror in Brazil and especially Sao Paulo
was sufficient to keep the two sides talking. Although they disagreed on many
points, their common denominator was to avoid conﬂict. To do so the bishops tem-
pered their public criticisms with private understandings.“

The Bipartite’s orchestrations remained unknown to most Brazilians, and the
week of independence celebrations took place without disturbance. Foreign jour-
nalists reported favorably on the events. On September 3, 1972, the CNBB held its
national sesquicentennial mass in the Praca da Sé, the large plaza before the cathe-
dral in downtown S50 Paulo. According to 0 S570 Paulo, between sixty and seventy
thousand of the faithful attended, while people across Brazil went to other liturgies.
Unlike the controversial texts of Celebragﬁes, the biblical readings did not contain
political connotations.” At the start of Independence week, President Médici had
attended the Te Deum held at the National Congress in Brasilia. On September 3 he
went to Sao Paulo to watch a horse race but did not appear at the Praga da Sé. On
the seventh he attended the official ceremonies, including a parade of heavy arma-
ment and eighteen thousand members of the military on the Avenida Paulista in
the heart of the capital. The apparent calm was contradicted by the contrast in
styles and symbols chosen by the clergy and the armed forces. Yet, in the words of
Archbishop Dom Carlos Carmelo Vasconcelos Motta to General Corréa, Church-
state relations were “all okay. ”33

Dom Fernando Gomes: Defining Opposition

The participation of Dom Fernando Gomes dos Santos at the Bipartite illus-
trates how a bishop publicly opposed to the regime could act quite differently dur-
ing dialogue with its representatives. At the invitation of the bishops, Dom
Fernando took part in a special meeting of the Bipartite in August 1973 in an
attempt to resolve tensions between him and the authorities in the archdiocese of
Goiania, the capital of the state of Goias in the Center-West region of Brazil. Dom
Fernando came to an understanding with the Grupo da Situagao and, to its satis-
faction, dampened his ﬁery rhetoric.

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

Dom Fernando had impeccable progressive credentials. He worked in his native
Northeast, the Church’s most reform-minded region in the 1940s and 1950s, until
his promotion to the archbishopric of Goiania in 1957. A supporter of Catholic
Action, Dom Fernando belonged to the core group of socially conscious bishops
who controlled the CNBB from its inception in 1952 until 1964. That year he lost the
election for the CNBB presidency as the conservatives for the ﬁrst time tookpower
of the conference. Dom Fernando welcomed the coup (Duarte 1996, ch. 1), but he
vehemently opposed the laudatory aspects of the CNBB’s postcoup declaration. He
continued to support basic social reform and defended Dom Hélder. In the words
of Carlos Rodrigues Brandao, an acute observer of religious life in the Center-West,
Goiénia became “one of the most courageous and persistent Catholic centers of
active resistance to the military regime.”34 As for many, 1968 was a deﬁning
moment for Dom Fernando. In the aftermath of the death of student Edson Luis in
Rio, ofﬁcials in Goiﬁnia harshly repressed student demonstrations, invaded the
cathedral while youths met with the archbishop, and shot several people, killing
one. Dom Fernando broke off all dialogue with local ofﬁcials and sent an angry
telegram to President Costa e Silva demanding an end to the “sacrilegious arro-
gance” of the authorities. In the 1970s Dom Fernando ﬁrmly backed neighboring
colleagues in their disputes with the military. In 1975 he supported the formation of
the Comissao Pastoral da Terra (CPT; Pastoral Land Commission) in Goiania. The
CPT was one of the most important pastoral innovations of the post—Vatican II era,
and it clashed frequently with the dictatorship over agrarian reform.35

In 1973 Dom Fernando came into the sights of the Grupo da Situagao. Marking
the twenty-ﬁfth anniversary of the U.N. Declaration of Human Rights, on May 6,
1973, the CNBB and regional groups of bishops published documents that once
again focused international attention on Brazil. In their “Marginalization of the
People,” for instance, Dom Fernando and the other bishops of the Center-West
declared capitalism the “worst evil.” In one scholar’s analysis, this and a similar
pronouncement by the bishops of the Northeast “were probably the most radical
statements ever issued by a group of bishops anywhere in the world” (Mainwaring
1986:93). The Grupo da Situacéio analyzed these documents carefully and debated
them with the Grupo Religioso.35

Throughout this period, Dom Fernando acted as a political padrinho (godfa-
ther) to Dom Pedro Casaldéliga. Dom Fernando ordained his younger colleague
bishop in 1971 and defended him against attacks from the right. In 1972 the two
men joined other Center-West bishops in supporting the Sao Paulo bishops’ decla-
ration against torture.” They maintained close ties throughout the ensuing years of

145

Glossary and Key to Abbreviations

Concordat—an agreement between the Vatican and a national state that grants the Church
certain privileges, often in return for political support

Conscz'entz'za§do—political “consciousness-raising,” one of the main goals of the CEBs and
the Popular Church

CPDOC—Centro de Pesquisa e Documentacao de Histéria Contemporanea do Brasil
(Center for Research and Documentation in Brazilian Contemporary History).
Important repository of oral history interviews and archives of Brazil’s political elite.

CPT—Comiss5o Pastoral da Terra (Pastoral Land Commission). One of the most impor-
tant innovations of the Popular Church of the 1970s, it sought to protect and assist
small landholders in the S50 Félix region, the Amazon, and elsewhere.

DEOPS-SP——Departamento Estadual de Ordem Politica e Social, S50 Paulo (State
Department of Political and Social Order). An important police unit that combated
the revolutionary movements of the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Desaparecido——an individual who disappeared as a result of the repressive forces’ opera-
tions against the opposition

Descompressdo——decompression of political tensions (see also distenséo)

Disz‘ensc7o—the descompressdo (decompression) or lessening of political tensions in the mid-
1970s that eventually led to abertura (political opening).

DNS——Doctrine of National Security

_ DOI-CODI—Destacamento de Operacoes de Informagoes and the Centro de Operagoes de

Defesa Interna (Detachment for Information Operations and Internal Defense
Operations Center). The DOI-CODI was the popular term for the interrogation and
torture centers run by the Army. In reality, abuses took place only at the DOI; the
CODI constituted a meeting of intelligence officials.

DOPS—Departamento de Ordem Politica e Social

DOPS-GB—Departamento de Ordem Politica e Social da Guanabara (Department of
Political and Social Order in Guanabara state. Guanabara was the political denomina-
tion for the city of Rio de Janeiro from 1960 to 1975).

EMBRATUR—Empresa Brasileira de Turismo (Brazilian Federal Tourist Agency)

ESG—Escola Superior de Guerra (National War College). A study center that educated
both military ofﬁcers and civilians in the Doctrine of National Security. It furnished
the military regime with ideological justiﬁcation.

FEB——Forga Expedicionéria Brasileira (Brazilian Expeditionary Force). Brazilian force that
fought beside U.S. troops in Italy during World War II. Its leaders established close
ties with the U.S. military and later became part of the conspiracy against President
I050 Goulart in 1964.

FGV—Fundac5o Getulio Vargas (Getﬁlio Vargas Foundation)
1st AIB—First Armored Infantry Battalion

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

Dom Pedro Casaldciliga was a frequent target of the regime for his work among the posseiros.

Conﬂict, and Dom Fernando kept the junior bishop informed about the Bipartite
talks (Dom Pedro Casaldaliga interview).

Dom Pedro was a major target of the repression. In the view of the generals he
typiﬁed the radical Catholic duped into aiding the Communist movement. A
Spanish missionary and poet, he had once been a religious conservative. In Brazil,
he opposed the regime and became a prophetlike leader of the progressive Church.
He called his ﬁrst pastoral letter “The Church of the Amazon in Conﬂict with the
Latifundium and Social Marginalization,” a 120-page booklet describing the atroc-
ities of the region. In the prelacy of S510 Félix do Araguaia, Mato Grosso, Dom Pedro
and his pastoral agents defended Amerindians and posseiros (squatters with legiti-
mate claims to land) from the Northeast and elsewhere who fought over land with
the government, agribusiness ﬁrms, and ranchers. In many cases the posseiros had
escaped from ranches that used forced labor. In 1976 Dom Pedro himself was near-
ly killed. In a case of mistaken identity the police murdered Jesuit Father Joao Bosco

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Penido Burnier instead after he and Dom Pedro had protested the imprisonment
and torture of people in Sao Félix. Dom Pedro also drew the ire of archconservative
Catholics.”

In the early 1970s rural conﬂict increased in the Center-West, the Amazon, and
the Northeast. A reign of terror set in at $510 Félix. In 1972 the Army staged antiguer-
rilla training exercises there and in surrounding villages.” This presence formed
the southern ﬂank of a secret jungle war by the CIE against guerrillas along the
Araguaia River in the neighboring states of Para and Goias. Five thousand soldiers
took part. The Army arrested and tortured many noncombatants, including a
priest and a nun, and harassed Dom Estevao Cardoso Avelar, the bishop of Maraba.
Only after several years of ﬁghting in Para did the Army defeat what was the best-
organized guerrilla force of the authoritarian era.4°

The regime suspected that other ﬁghters were operating in Sao Félix. Indeed,
the Church’s consciousness-raising efforts strikingly resembled the political tactics
of the guerrillas (Richopo 1987:74—75). The regime worked to soften military pres-
ence by setting up local health clinics. In June and July 1973, it sent hundreds more
soldiers and policemen into the area in an attempt to neutralize the pastoral work
of Dom Pedro and his followers. The assault paved the way for further aggression
by grileiros (claim jumpers) and large ﬁrms moving in to dominate the area. The
security forces abused peasants and Church militants, and they put Dom Pedro
under house arrest after searching his home. The soldiers took eight prisoners to
the barracks at Campo Grande, where all were tortured to force confessions about
the Church’s supposed ties to guerrillas. Dom Ivo, Dom Fernando, and the papal
nuncio traveled to S50 Félix to review the situation along with government and mil-
itary oﬂicials, but it was weeks later before the prisoners went free.“

The Grupo da Situagao carefully monitored the situation in Sao Félix. At the July
23, 1973, Bipartite meeting it criticized Dom Pedro’s ideas and actions. General
Muricy accused priests and lay activists of “agitation” in 850 Félix. The Situacao had
obtained copies of dozens of pages of letters, legal papers, internal Church bul-
letins, petitions, the transcript of a tape of Dom Pedro’s ordination of a radical
priest, and other material seized by the police.“ Muricy had Major Leone da
Silveira Lee of the CIE read “compromising” passages from these documents in an
attempt to discredit Dom Pedro and his pastoral agents.

According to the Situagao, the documents proved that the Church in S50 Félix
intended to mount a revolutionary counterattack on the government forces.
Among other charges, the clergy had asserted the right to “excommunicate” squat-
ters unwilling to cooperate with the prelacy’s land strategy. Even worse, Muricy

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said, Dom Pedro had usurped the country’s legislative powers by drafting a “Law of
the Squatter.” This document deﬁned the rights and obligations of posseiros so as
to assure possession of their lands. It reminded Muricy of the politicalized literacy
pamphlet he had repressed in the Northeast before the coup. Major Lee added that
Dom Pedro was trying to incite the populace.43 One “psalm” penned at S50 Félix
read:

Free me, O Lord,

From the DOPS, from the OBAN and CODI, from the SNI.

Free me from their councils of war,

From the anger of their judges and their soldiers.

You judge the great powers.

You are the one who judges the ministers of justice and the supreme courts of justice.
Defend me, O Lord, from false charges.

Defend the exiled and the deported, those accused of espionage and sabotage.“

In the eyes of the Situagao, Dom Pedro simply did not understand the nature of the
regime. While the bishop protested the conviction of peasant sympathizer Father
Jentel (see chapter 6), he ignored the verdicts of innocence in the cases of dozens of
other priests.45

Although the seized papers clearly substantiated intensive Church efforts to
organize and minister to the posseiros, they offered no actual evidence of Violent
subversion. However, Dom Avelar admitted that the notion of “excommunica-
tions” was “ridiculous.” Dom Ivo agreed but also severely criticized the military for
beating the priests and detaining the eight individuals, whom he classiﬁed as dis-
appeared. Moreover, Dom Ivo had personally complained to federal officials about
the situation in Sao Félix. “All the territory of Mato Grosso has been sold to various
business groups, including foreigners,” the bishop added, noting that Dom Pedro
would not give up his “option” to defend the Amerindians and the posseiros.46

In late July 1973, Dom Fernando issued his own scathing attack against the gov-
ernment. Like Candido Mendes, he had long believed in the possibility of Church-
regime collaboration. For Dom Fernando, the prime concern was not the type of
regime, but the Church’s right to guide Brazilian progress (Duarte 1996, ch. 1).
However, the repression was eroding that hope. Circulated in Goiania and to
Brazil’s bishops, Dom Fernando’s pastoral letter baldly asserted that the regime
based itself on the use of force, spying, control of the media, the cover-up of crimi-
nal activity, and the negation of such basic rights as habeas corpus. The adminis-
tration valued people and religion only to the extent that they served its interests.
The letter also demonstrated that although Dom Fernando was associated with left-
ist causes he outright rejected Communism. Citing papal encyclicals, Dom

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

Fernando afﬁrmed that Communism was “intrinsically evil” because of its substi-

tution of the party for divine revelation. However, in combating this threat the
regime itself had adopted “Communist morals.” This was an “arrogant but dis-
guised Communism, with the aggravating factor of not using this name but pro-
jecting it on whoever does not make himself subservient.” Thus the regime ban-
ished, tortured, and killed people who had never been Communists but who had
refused to accept an “unethical and unreligious” system. Although the Church
adhered to no party and accepted the regime as a “reality,” it would continue to
denounce these “excesses” and to ﬁght for social justice through the conscientizagcio
of the poor.“

Another crisis was at hand. Despite his rhetoric, Dom Fernando was still seen as
linked with the left. Right-wing congressman Clovis Stenzel, the vice leader of the
proregime party and a member of the Chamber of Deputies’ National Security
Commission, wrote a newspaper column casting Dom Fernando as another Dom
Hélder trying to “Marxicize” the Church.“ At the same July Bipartite meeting at
which the S50 Félix incidents were debated, General Muricy called Dom Fernando’s
letter “a very violent document against the government.” Major Lee added that he
had warned Dom Fernando not to publish the document because of the “prob-
lems” it could cause. (Lee had surreptitiously obtained a draft of the letter in early
June.) Worried about possible repercussions both in Brazil and abroad, General
Muricy and other members of the Situagﬁo demanded that the Grupo Religioso
prevent further distribution of the pastoral letter. The officers reminded the bish-
ops that the CNBB had requested its members not to make individual statements.
Candido Mendes and Dom Ivo agreed, and the former proposed a special meeting
of the Bipartite to include Dom Fernando.”

Fearing his arrest, some of Dom Fernando’s followers opposed his trip to Rio
(Gomes 1982:24o). Nevertheless, as the faithful held prayer vigils for his safety,
Dom Fernando arrived at the Bipartite without incident. There he elaborated on
his accusations. The regime had declared more than anybody that “God is
Brazilian” and that “Our Lady had saved Brazil,” yet it had reneged on its promise
to carry out the basic social reforms proposed by the CNBB. If the Revolution had
espoused the spirit of Vatican II, it could have made Brazil “the most vigorous
nation in the world.” Dom Fernando accused the Revolution of falling under the
inﬂuence of the Masons. The struggle between the Church and freemasonry had
become largely irrelevant by the 19203, but Dom Fernando raised the specter of the
Religious Question as a way of centering discussion on the regime’s systematic vio-
lation of Church interests.”

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

In response, General Muricy stated that Dom Fernando had given an inaccurate
picture of the administration by “generalizing” about certain incidents. His letter
contained “poison” against the government. In fact, the Revolution was indeed
working to solve Brazil’s social problems. It had never stopped battling Com-
munism. The restriction on habeas corpus existed only for subversives, Muricy
reminded the bishops. He explained that “there have been some excesses among
the enforcement echelons, but the government has acted energetically against the
excesses. . . . Sometimes it becomes necessary to imprison elements in order to dis-
cover the ‘network of collaborators.” The administration ultimately wanted to pro-
vide “conditions of tranquillity for the government and for private businesses to
think and to work.” The subversives, however, upset the people’s right to peace.
Dom Fernando needed to see the Bipartite’s efforts at “conciliatory solutions,”
Muricy said. Repeating one of the main requests of the Grupo da Situagao, he urged
the bishops to register their complaints directly with the authorities to avoid fur-
ther political agitation. Finally, he asked Dom Fernando what he hoped to achieve
by publishing the pastoral letter—to ﬁght with the government, or to improve the
lives of his ﬂock?“ General Muricy had conveniently reduced the issue of Church-
state relations to one of politics versus religion. The Church should concentrate on
the latter, quietly smoothing over its political differences with the regime as the two
collaborated to solve the country’s problems.

Dom Fernando temporized. He was happy to take part in the Bipartite, he said.
Yes, he had generalized in the pastoral letter. But he was not accusing the govern-
ment of any speciﬁc violations. The problem was not President Médici or his gov-
ernment; it was the regime’s philosophy and the fact that some officials refused to
take action against abuses. As for the regime’s “Communism,” he meant it in the
“practical” sense of arrogating all power, not in a Marxist-Leninist sense. He spoke
as a pastor, not an economist, sociologist, or even theologian. “A bishop is a kind of
sandwich,” Dom Fernando explained, adding that pressure from different groups
shaped his attitudes.”

The archbishop retreated on several fronts. He read a prepared statement soft-
ening the assertions of the pastoral letter. The Church-state conﬂict had trauma-
tized Brazil, yet the Bipartite could repair the damage, he said, underlining the
need for continued dialogue and “respectful collaboration.” He cited Christ’s oft-
quoted dictum to “give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and give unto God what is
God’s.” Church and state had interdependent values, but they were autonomous.
General Muricy concurred with Dom Fernando’s analysis.“

Dom Fernando temporized still further by emphasizing his anti-Communist

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

A leading progressive, Dom
Fernando Games nevertheless
told the Bipartite that the mili-
tary should retain power
because of civilians’ inability to

govern.

stance. He afﬁrmed that before the coup no one had fought Communism in Goiés
more than he himself. He had opposed Luis Carlos Prestes’s visit to Goiania and
gone on radio to rebut the PCB leader’s speech. Before the coup, a group of
Communists and students had even performed a symbolic burial of the bishop. At
the time of his 1968 break with the Goias authorities he had suggested that the
police arrest Communist agitators in Goiania. Dom Fernando therefore rejected as
illogical the allegations by military leaders of Communist inﬁltration in the
Church. Nothing denigrated a bishop’s dignity more than an accusation of
Communism!“

Most signiﬁcant, the archbishop expressed support for the government. He
asserted that the initial “rigor” of the regime was justiﬁed. He did not like a weak
government. Moreover, though he disagreed with much of AI-5, Dom Fernando
had obeyed the decree by refraining from public statements. For instance, he spoke
in defense of political prisoners and the desaparecidos only when implored by their
families, and then only within the walls of the cathedral. He had further avoided
political involvement by refusing a request by MDB politicians to mediate between
them and the governor of Goias. Finally, Dom Fernando agreed with General

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

Muricy that for the time being the military should keep power, for the civilians were
still not ready to run the country.55

‘ The contrast between the pastoral letter and Dom Fernando’s remarks at the
Bipartite is striking. Stated publicly, Dom Fernando’s words would have jeopar-
dized his leadership in the progressive Church. Yet as a bishop he was bound to see
the anti-Communist struggle as legitimate. In his view Brazil needed a strong gov-
ernment in order to become a more stable, just nation. On this score he agreed with
the many Brazilian workers who believed that an authoritarian regime promoted
their interests better than a democratic one (Cohen 1989:116). The diﬂiculty resided
in the harm done to Brazilians by the anti-Communist struggle. Rather than true
reform, the regime had turned to violence. Dom Fernando had to reconcile the
quest for social change with the drawbacks of a strong state. Publicly he attacked
the government as being inconsistent with the Church’s teachings on social justice,
whereas privately he backed it as the only way to change Brazil. Dom Fernando was
expressing the many voices of a bishop: patriot, anti-Communist, religious leader,
politician. Circumstances determined which spoke most strongly at any particular
moment.

The Situagao believed that the Bipartite had again alleviated serious tensions. In
the military’s interpretation, Dom Fernando had accepted the critique of his pas-
toral letter. Although he refused to withdraw it, he agreed to publish a partial
retraction—the more “judicious” statement read at the Bipartite.“ Dom Fernando
also stated that he found the meeting “useful” and “agreeable.” The Situagao con-
cluded that he desired to live “in harmony with the government.”57 In addition,
General Muricy arranged for the authorities in Goias to apologize to Dom
Fernando for past aggressions (Muricy 1993:662).

As in other cases, however, the military expressed skepticism about Dom
Fernando’s ability to comprehend its policies. The Grupo da Situage"1o’s ﬁnal report
stated that he did not understand Marxist-Leninism, subversion, or national secu-
rity. The officers partially attributed the conﬂict with Dom Fernando to personal
factors—namely, his inability to get along with the authorities in Goiﬁnia. Thus,
ending the discord required a plan of able “human relations” in which the arch-
bishop could be brought back into dialogue with local oﬁ‘icials.58

Salvaging the Moral Concordat

A central theme of the Bipartite was the attempt to preserve the moral concor-
dat. Although the regime desired their political blessing, the bishops in turn sought

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to safeguard privileges traditionally considered crucial to the Church’s welfare.
Because of the political constraints and repression of the Médici years, efforts at
cooperation often fell short. But history is not about results only; intentions count
too. The attempts to salvage traditional Church-state ties thus bear investigation.

Political Restraint and Saving a Subsidy

The moral concordat provided the Church with ﬁnancial assistance for its myr-
iad of educational and social assistance works. After 1964, the state began to cut aid
to seminaries, Catholic universities, and other initiatives such as the Basic
Education Movement, but, interested in placating the bishops, the military leader-
ship continued spending on other Church projects. For example, the government
underwrote the building of the national cathedral in Brasilia (Serbin 199 5:162, 165).

In July 1971, Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo used their Bipartite ties to save state sup-
port for one of the Church’s most important schools, the Pontificio Colégio Pio
Brasileiro. The Pio was inaugurated in 1934 as a residence and spiritual center for
Brazilian seminarians studying at the Gregorian University in Rome. It prepared
Brazil’s ecclesiastical elite to occupy important posts as seminary professors and
diocesan administrators. Several dozen Pio graduates rose to the episcopate. Dom
Ivo, for instance, had lived there in the early 1950s while he was studying for his
degree and then his doctorate in theology at the Gregorian. In the 1950s and 1960s,
the Brazilian state gave the Pio hundreds of thousands of dollars (Serbin 1995:162).
Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo feared that Médici would veto the annual subsidy, even
though it had already been approved by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shortly
after the fourth meeting of the Bipartite, they sought General Muricy’s assistance.”
A few days later, Dom Ivo sent the general a letter explaining the Pio’s importance.
“As the largest Catholic nation in the world, Brazil should also maintain this insti-
tute in Rome,” Dom Ivo wrote.“

Since 1964, however, the Pio had become snarled in the same combination of
ecclesial renewal and opposition politics that involved many Church militants. As
the former rector of the highly politicized seminary at Viamao, Rio Grande do Sul,
Dom Ivo knew well the difficulty of supervising young men in an atmosphere of
antiregime student agitation and post—Vatican II deemphasis on discipline. The
local political police invaded Viamao on several occasions to interrogate seminari-
ans and to search for subversive literature (Serbin 1993b:392—93, 395, 405, 412, 417,
428-32), and the SNI collected information on the school (Fontoura interview). In
Rome, Ambassador Jobim investigated but could not substantiate allegations that
the Pio “lodged subversive elements on the way through Italy to the Soviet Union

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

and Czechoslovakia.” Nevertheless, Dom Ivo and Dom Aloisio admitted to General
Muricy that, unbeknownst to some ecclesiastical authorities, the Pio operated as a
“meeting point for elements that were criticizing the Brazilian government.”51
Moreover, the school was inviting progressive bishops as speakers (Gervasio
Queiroga interview).

Dom Ivo and Dom Aloisio emphasized a “new orientation” for the Pio. The rec-
tor, for instance, had already rejected the application of a Dominican priest who
had been denounced by the regime. Concerned about the youthﬁil excesses of their
students, the school’s directors shifted admissions toward older, more mature can-
didates who would not abuse the “liberty” of studying abroad.”

The regime worked with the Church to change the Pio’s image. Few other coun-
tries had a special residence in Rome for seminarians. Cardinals, bishops, ambas-
sadors, and other leading Brazilians traditionally paid visits to the Colégio. It was a
Brazilian showcase. During the height of the IBRADES crisis, Dom Agnelo Rossi
thus decided that the Pio should house a Center for Brazilian Studies to combat the
country’s bad reputation for incidents of torture and attacks on the Church. He was
shocked at the number of priests, sisters, and Brazilian youths in Rome “poisoned
by distorted information about our country.” Dom Agnelo called for all Brazilians
to contribute documentation to the Center.“ General Muricy solicited bibliogra-
phy and other materials from military and civilian ofﬁcials. The Sao Paulo state
government, the Empresa Brasileira de Turismo (EMBRATUR; Brazilian Federal
Tourist Agency), and the SNI sent Brazilian artisanry and government publica-
tions. In addition, Colonel Fernando Cerqueira Lima, a military attaché at the
Brazilian embassy in Rome, requested additional shipments of “books of good ide-
ological content.” After its inauguration in November 1972, Brazilians and foreign-
ers alike visited the center and purchased some of the new items.“ Brazilian priests
and seminarians, however, opposed the initiative because of Dom Agnelo’s conser-
vatism.“

The efforts of Muricy and the bishops were partially successful. The general’s
papers indicate that he pursued the matter of the subsidy with Médici, Foreign
Minister Mario Gibson Barboza, or some other high administration ofﬁcial. In
November 1971, Jesuit Father Frederico Laufer, the rector of the Pio, wrote General
Muricy to thank him for obtaining “part of the sum appropriated in the budget” for
1970-1971. “We have the sincere desire to dedicate ourselves to the good of the
Brazilian people in the way that the Church has worked for the nation since 1500.”
Nevertheless, with less government funding the Pio entered into a ﬁnancial crisis,
eventually forcing the episcopate to reconsider its decision not to accept donations

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

from the faithful. By 1975 the government had completely cut off funding. Like the
Brazilian Church as a whole, the Pio began seeking aid from the wealthy Catholic
community of Germany.“

The most signiﬁcant aspect was not the money, however, but the bishops’ expec-
tations. Despite the CNBB’s growing criticism of the regime, they still sought the
kinds of beneﬁts routinely awarded at the height of the moral concordat. As a
moral pillar of Brazilian society, the Church believed it had a right to such privileges
no matter what its theological position. The bishops viewed the Bipartite as the
channel for safeguarding such important institutional interests. The Pio moderat-
edits stance, and in return the government maintained part of its public subsidy.

Anti-Communism, Population Control, and Divorce

The Bipartite touched on other matters crucial to the Church’s religious identi-
ty and institutional interests. On some issues, the two sides easily agreed. One was
anti-Communism. In the 1970s the Church allied with the left in the struggle for
democracy, and liberation theologians and radical bishops embraced socialism as
the solution to Brazil’s socioeconomic ills. But as the case of Dom Fernando illus-
trates, even some progressives strongly opposed Communism. Indeed, at the ﬁnal
meeting of the Bipartite in August 1974, the Grupo Religioso wanted to know the
motives for the Geisel government’s decision to break with Taiwan and to reestab-
lish ties with Communist China. General Muricy explained that China’s enormous
size and membership in the U.N. Security Council made diplomatic recognition
inevitable. Brazil, however, would not accept China’s ideology. China offered Brazil
new markets, Tarcisio Padilha noted. This was “healthy pragmatism.” Though not
opposed to relations with China, Dom Avelar did not miss the irony. In a forum in
which the Grupo da Situagao had so often alleged Communist inﬁltration in the
Church, he turned the tables: How did the new policy square with the regime’s con-
cern with Communist revolutionary warfare in Brazil? The only response that
Padilha could muster was that Brazil remained vigilant against Communism."

Noting Geisel’s policy shift on China, the Grupo Religioso suggested that the
government study the possibility of reopening diplomatic relations with Cuba.
General Muricy’s papers do not offer details of the discussion. At any rate, the mil-
itary opposed such a move. Only in 1986, a year after the armed forces left power,
did Brazil reestablish ties with Cuba.

Population control and the family were other critical topics. Here the Church
used the Bipartite not to temporize its public positions, but to reinforce its role as
Brazil’s moral guardian. In the post—World War II era, papal pronouncements came

155

Glossary and Key to Abbreviations

IBRADES—Instituto Brasileiro de Desenvolvimento (Brazilian Development Institute)..,A
Jesuit study center that specialized in grassroots education. Attacked by the security
forces in 1970.

INP—Instituto Nacional de Pastoral (National Pastoral Institute)

IPES—Instituto de Pesquisas e Estudos Sociais (Institute for Research and Social Studies).
One of the organizations that conspired to overthrow President I050 Goulart in 1964.

ISEB——Instituto Superior de Estudos Brasileiros (Advanced Institute for Brazilian Studies).
A nationalistic think tank at the Ministry of Education in the mid-1950s and early
1960s. Closed by the military regime because of alleged ties to Communism.

]B—]ornal do Brasil. An important newspaper in Rio de Janeiro.

]esuits—a hi hl resti ious male reli ious order of the Catholic Church with s ecial alle-
8 Y P 8 8 P
giance to the pope and known for its intellectual and educational activities. Very
prominent in twentieth-century Brazil.

]OC—]uventude Operaria Catélica (Catholic Youth Workers). A progressive Catholic
Action movement criticized by the conservative clergy and attacked by the military
regime.

]UC—]uventude Universitaria Catélica (Catholic University Youth). A progressive Catholic
Action movement closed by the bishops and attacked by the military.

LSN—Lei de Seguranga Nacional (National Security Law)

MDB—Movimento Democratico Brasileiro (Brazilian Democratic Movement). The oppo-
sition party from 1965 to 1979.

MEB—Movimento de Educagﬁo de Base (Basic Education Movement). Employed grass-
roots education techniques among the poor. Attacked by the military regime.

MOLIPO———Movimento de Libertagao Popular (Movement for Popular Liberation). A vio-
lent revolutionary organization destroyed by the military in the early 1970s.

Moral concordat—the informal, unwritten political agreement between the Brazilian state
and the Catholic Church that functioned between 1930 and 1970.

MPL——Movimento Popular de Libertagﬁo (Popular Liberation Movement). A Christian-
Marxist revolutionary organization repressed by the military in the early 1970s.

OBAN—Operag§o Bandeirantes (Bandeirantes Operation). A repressive organization start-
ed in Sao Paulo in 1969. It was replaced by the DOI-CODI the following year but to
this day many Brazilians still refer to the unit as OBAN.

OESP—O Estado de Sdo Paulo. An important newspaper in S50 Paulo.

PCB—Partido Comunista Brasileiro (Brazilian Communist Party). In the 1960s thousands
of militants left the party, which was opposed to violent action against the military
regime, to join revolutionary movements such as the ALN.

Popular Church—a wing of the Brazilian Catholic Church that emphasized the struggle for
social justice and human rights and peaceﬁil opposition to the military regime

xvi

I The Cotton Between the Crystals

to advocate family planning but still kept the prohibitions on abortion and artiﬁcial
methods of contraception. Unexpectedly, in 1968 Paul VI braked the tendency
toward a more liberal birth-control teaching by reafﬁrming the ban on artiﬁcial
methods in his famous encyclical Humanae Vitae. As elsewhere, this document
stirred negative reactions in Brazil, which was undergoing the dramatic impact of
the sexual revolution and the introduction of the birth control pill. Castello Branco,
Costa e Silva, and Medici publicly backed the Church’s teachings, and Costa e Silva
bestowed praise on the pontiff for condemning “anti-Christian methods.” The
Geisel administration kept in step by following CNBB recommendations for the
ﬁrst World Population Conference held in Bucharest in 1974. For Candido Mendes,
who had attended part of the Bucharest conference, the position of Brazil and the
Vatican were “most difﬁcult . . . because international feminist movements have a
tremendous opposition against the ideas of both.” Nevertheless, more than ever,
Brazil and the Church stood publicly together on the population issue.“

However, the official statements cloaked what was actually an ambiguous mili-
tary policy about population growth. On the one hand, appealing for national secu-
rity, the regime joined the left, the Church, and other groups in denouncing alleged
international conspiracies to stop Brazil from populating its vast uninhabited ter-
ritories. On the other hand, technocrats and some military leaders asserted that
unbridled demographic growth actually created national insecurity because it out-
stripped job creation. In actuality the regime took a laissez-faire approach. In 1965,
for example, it permitted a group of physicians to open the Sociedade de Bem-Estar
Familiar do Brasil (BEMFAM; Brazilian Society for Family Welfare). BEMFAM
started dozens of clinics throughout the country and distributed tens of thousands
of birth-control devices. In 1971 BEMFAM obtained official nonproﬁt status,
an important advantage for any social service organization operating in Brazil.
BEMFAM received further permission to sign agreements with state governments.
Meanwhile, commercialization of the pill spread during the Médici years, and the
Geisel government angered the bishops by actually distributing it for free.59

Geisel was Brazil’s ﬁrst Protestant president to serve a full term. Nevertheless,
like his predecessors, he sought good relations with the hierarchy. The president
would accept the “disinterested collaboration” of “intermediate organizations.” He
would refuse their interference in affairs pertaining only to the government, how-
ever. He would admit no criticism or “insistent pressures” from those outside the
public sphere.” Geisel’s words both encouraged and restricted the moral concor-
dat. Thus the Grupo da Situacao concluded that the bishops might use the
Bipartite to circumvent Geisel’s constraints.“

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

As Geisel’s government got under way in 1974, the Grupo Religioso proposed
that Church and state conduct joint studies or collaborate in a number of areas: the
environment, the energy crisis, Brazil’s position with respect to Portuguese colo-
nialism, basic education, the problem of the Amerindians, land conﬂicts, and the
ﬁght against drug abuse. Population control and BEMFAM stood out prominently
among the bishops’ concerns. The military interpreted the bishops’ sudden desire
for greater cooperation as a reaction to President Geisel’s inaugural message.

They used the Bipartite to maintain the pressure against BEMFAM. At the
August 1974 meeting, Dom Ivo pressed for continued state adherence to Church
positions on population growth.” His statements echoed protests by the CNBB and
smaller groups of bishops against BEMFAM. In May, for instance, Dom Eugenio
deﬁned the population problem as religious and ethical, but also as economic,
political, and social. “What engenders misery is not the fertility of the miserable,
but social iniquity,” one of Dom Eugénio’s assistants wrote in an ofﬁcial archdioce-
san study criticizing BEMFAM’s use of Church social doctrine to justify its activi-
ties. Besides, the study noted, Brazil did not fall into the category of countries with
“uncontrolled growth,” for the 1970 census had already indicated deceleration.” A
month later, a group of sixteen progressive bishops asked the CNBB to help divert
attention away from “moralizing” on the issue and onto its socioeconomic and
political roots.“ Above all the Church wanted families to be able to look out for the
welfare of their children. Therefore, Dom Ivo asked whether the Brazilian govern-
ment could deal with the specter raised at Bucharest of worldwide social collapse if
growing populations could not be fed. Adopting the national security position,
Colonel Mario Orlando Ribeiro Sampaio of the SNI seconded Dom Ivo’s concerns.
After the meeting, the Grupo da Situacao noted that population themes provided a
platform for Church-state cooperation.”

The bishops’ opposition to the prodivorce movement in the Brazilian Congress
provided another example of Church pressure. Since the 1930s the state had
fulﬁlled the Church’s requests to keep divorce out of Brazilian law. In 1960 and
1962, annulment laws failed to pass because of Church opposition, and in 1971, the
Médici administration instructed the progovernment bloc in Congress to vote
against a similar measure. Congress ﬁnally passed legislation in 1977, but it was a
compromise, allowing a person to divorce only once. The Congress also rejected a
proposal to hold a national plebiscite on divorce. In both instances the Church’s
inﬂuence played a major role (Ribeiro and Ribeiro 1994:1o1, 112, 119-20, 126-27).
Throughout this period the hierarchy publicly opposed divorce. At the August 1974
Bipartite meeting, the bishops also pressured behind the scenes: Dom Ivo

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

expressed dismay about the twenty-one divorce bills pending before the legislature,
and General Muricy promised to relay the Church’s concerns to the government
and to request that Justice Minister Armando Falcao consult the CNBB about the
issue.”

Protecting the Catholic Monopoly

The bishops also pushed for continued recognition of Catholicism as Brazil’s
semi-official religion. The Grupo da Situacao readily agreed. In the post—Vatican II
era the Church became committed to ecumenical relations with other religions, but
no representatives of non—Catholic organizations took part at the Bipartite. After
World War II, Protestant Pentecostal as well as spiritist religions (especially the
Afro-Brazilian Umbanda) had increased in popularity. At the August 1973 meeting
of the Bipartite, Dom Aloisio referred to the “proliferation” of these religions.
General Muricy and the SNI’s Colonel Sampaio pointed out that the spiritists had
made substantial inroads into the armed forces. Tarcisio Padilha warned the bish-
ops that the Church must not be surpassed by its competitors. In addition, a small
schismatic church known as the Igreja Catélica Brasileira (Brazilian Catholic
Church) had also emerged. When Dom Ivo informed the Bipartite that the CNBB
would meet to discuss the breakaway organization’s “interference in the activities
of the Apostolic Roman Catholic Church,” General Muricy agreed with the need to
react “against that false church.”77

The disagreement over a new church building in Brasilia illustrated the Church’s
efforts to retain its religious hegemony. In the ﬁnal months of the Médici adminis-
tration, Army Minister Orlando Geisel decreed that the military would build an
ecumenical temple at which soldiers of all faiths could worship. An agnostic who
showed little sympathy for the Church, Geisel did not consult the bishops on his
decision. They immediately opposed the universal character of the temple. The
hierarchy had already convinced the government to make the new national cathe-
dral Catholic rather than ecumenical. Now, as Ernesto Geisel took the reins of
power, Dom José Newton de Almeida Baptista Pereira, the archbishop of Brasilia,
spearheaded the effort to change the plans for the new temple.” His involvement
added political overtones to the dispute, for in 1964 he had been accused of
Communism and of defending Joao Goulart in a national radio broadcast on the
day of the coup. Dom Newton complained to President Geisel that the proposed
temple should be strictly Catholic. Other prelates echoed his sentiments at the
March 1974 Bipartite meeting. Dom Aloisio, for instance, stated that the idea could
lead people into thinking the inconceivable: that diverse religions could celebrate

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

their faiths in a common ceremony. Furthermore, Dom Ivo feared that the admin-
istration of the temple would be ambiguously deﬁned and therefore proposed that
it come under the exclusive control of the Catholic Church.”

President Geisel ordered Army Minister Sylvio Frota to negotiate a solution
with the Church. In the meantime, the Bipartite also determined that Major Lee of
the CIE would contact Dom Newton. Lee was perhaps the Army’s leading expert on
the Church. He studied the different factions within the institution and familiar-
ized himself with canon law. As a member of the CIE Lee worked in the Army min-
ister’s cabinet. He joined Colonel Octavio Costa—Médici’s public relations director
and Frota’s intermediary with Dom Newton—in the difﬁcult negotiations with the
archbishop. For the two ofﬁcers, the situation was especially sensitive because they
had to ﬁnd a solution agreeable not only to General Frota but also to former min-
ister Orlando Geisel. Ultimately, the two sides struck a compromise. The Church
could use only removable religious images in the ecumenical building. However,
alongside this structure the military would construct a small chapel strictly for
Catholic services. In addition, Dom Newton and the ofﬁcers settled on a name for
the complex that implied religious neutrality as opposed to sharing. Thus what
began as a “temple” became a compound designated as the Oratorio do Soldado
(Soldier’s oratory).8° The outcome was an important symbolic victory for the
Church and indicative of its power to negotiate through the Bipartite.

The Church further exercised its inﬂuence to gain crucial access to the airwaves.
During the Médici years Dom Aloisio sought out Colonel Costa to request that the
government cede the time for its public service television spots for advertisements
of the CNBB’s annual Lenten Campanha da Fraternidade (Fraternity campaign).
The Campanha involved a religious theme as well as an important fund-raising
component. The government obliged Dom Aloisio’s requests.“

Defending Ecclesiastical Honor

The defense of Church interests included the preservation of ecclesiastical
honor, an intangible yet highly important component of the moral concordat.
Bishops were religious authorities but also public ﬁgures and leaders. The military
attacks on them after 1964 raised doubts about their public prominence, not to
mention the feelings of anger, bewilderment, and hurt that many must have expe-
rienced after years of respect and collaboration with the state and the military. The
Bipartite focused on several such cases. The most telling involved Dom Avelar.

The archbishop primate was a consummate moderate with a curious mixture of
aristocratic airs and popular appeal. A native of the northeastern state of Alagoas,

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

he came from a family of sugar plantation owners. In the 1930s and 1940s, Father
Avelar worked in prestigious jobs such as seminary professor and secretary of the
bishopric of Aracaju, Sergipe. He was only thirty-four when the Holy See named
him bishop of the interior town of Petrolina, Pernambuco, in 1946. Dom Avelar
culled numerous honors reserved for the elite, for example, membership in the
Academy of Letters of both the states of Bahia and Piaui (CNBB 1984:83—84). In the
1960s and 1970s, he had close ties to the military and even spoke at the ESG.
Despite his patrician status, Dom Avelar showed concern for social issues and had
a great following among the people. As a priest he set up an organization to aid
domestic servants and became a leader of Catholic Action, and in Petrolina
(1946-1955) and later Teresina (1955-1970) he worked among the inhabitants of the
rugged backlands. Dom Avelar was known especially for his ability in sacred ora-
tory. Before a crowd or on the radio he would begin speaking softly and then raise
his voice in a dynamic way that captivated his listeners. This was a natural talent
that the bishop shared with his brother Teotonio, a senator who left the progov-
ernment party in 1979 to give blustering speeches against the regime for the
prodemocracy movement. Dom Avelar’s aristocratic manners and traditional
rhetorical style caused progressive clerics to reject him. Yet in the Northeast, where
publicly improvised poetry and music (desaﬁos) frequently drew crowds of the
poor, the people “adored” Dom Avelar for his oratory.” “I was always concerned
with social justice and defended human rights,” Dom Avelar said in 1973. “I am nei-
ther a petriﬁed person stuck in one place nor a utopian dreamer. Therefore, those
who are most progressive do not fully understand me, nor do the conservatives
count me as one of theirs” (Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987 3:168).

On August 23, 1973, the governor of Pernambuco, Eraldo Gueiros Leite,
announced that Dom Avelar, named cardinal in May, would receive the state’s gold
medal of merit. A week later, however, Gueiros suddenly canceled the award.
Similarly, the city council of Salvador revoked plans to grant honorary citizenship
to its archbishop because of “orders from above.” Although the oflicials gave no
reason, the withdrawal of Dom Avelar’s honors clearly resulted from his public
attempts to offer the regime moral guidance. In a magazine interview, for instance,
he stated the need for justice in the governments Amazon development program.
He also supported “Eu Ouvi os Clamores do Meu Povo” (I heard the cry of my peo-
ple), the radical document on poverty issued by the northeastern bishops. The
affront to Dom Avelar brought protest from opposition politicians. Dom Avelar
himself demanded to know the federal governments role in the cancellations. High
civilian and military officials, including the Grupo da Situagao, denied responsibil-

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

ity; Army Minister Orlando Geisel and military presidential chief of staff Figueire-
do ignored the cardinal’s inquiry.“

The magnitude of his humiliation surfaced in Dom Avelar’s private letters to
General Muricy. He was especially anguished because his attempts at a balanced
view of the political situation had drawn attacks. “I am beginning to convince
myself that they want to characterize me in a way that does not correspond to my
reality,” the cardinal wrote in early September 1973, alluding to government
oﬂicials and members of the information services. “I have become, from one
moment to the next, a dangerous element.” The bishops could no longer speak out,
and if they did, they were misinterpreted, Dom Avelar further implied. General
Muricy replied that he was stupeﬁed by Governor Gueiros’s action. His behind—the—
scenes investigation had turned up no evidence of federal participation in Gueiros’s
decision, yet he promised to dig deeper into the matter. It did not end there. Dom
Avelar wrote in another letter that although he had acted with “prudence” and “dig-
nity,” “the manner in which I was treated was rude and violent. . . . If I were not an
experienced man, there would have been commotion in our religious circles.” He
complained that the government censors in Salvador blocked him from publishing
his side of the story, while the city’s commanding general avoided meeting with
him. In yet another missive at the end of September, the archbishop wrote, “I have
experienced a difﬁcult test. I think I have done well. I tried to speak for myself, for
the Church, and also for the government.” Yet the regime had still failed to explain
the offense. Although Dom Avelar’s emotional “wound” had started to close, he
feared further attacks on his honor. “I thus hope that my conduct towards the gov-
ernment is respected.”34

The Bipartite’s intervention in the affair eventually resulted in Salvador’s rever-
sal of its decision.” Ten months later Dom Avelar’s wish was granted as the city
made him an honorary citizen. Municipal and military authorities looked on as the
archbishop received the title in a formal ceremony (Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:4:3o—31).

Conclusion

Through the Bipartite, the Situagﬁo obtained a substantial moderation of the
bishops’ criticisms, while the Church avoided the potential for further repression.
In the process both sides held onto the hope—or the illusion——of preserving tradi-
tional Church-state collaboration. Did the bishops go too far in meeting the
demands of General Muricy? Did they compromise their religious mission? Did

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

they undercut grassroots work in favor ofconscientizagdo and human rights? On the
one hand, the Bipartite gave the regime a window onto the thinking and decision-
making process of the Catholic hierarchy, its most formidable opponent. Far more
than the Situacao, the Grupo Religioso revealed its intentions during the meetings.
The Church’s public posture mattered so much that it was ﬁrst discussed in private.
The Situagéio believed it was effectively modifying the bishops’ attitudes and even
controlling their behavior.

On the other hand, the military was perhaps overconﬁdent in its evaluation of
at least some of the bishops. This certainty was rooted in self—assurance or even
wishful thinking about the Church-state conﬂict. Regardless, the Situacao did not
always have a clear picture of the bishops’ ideological tendencies, and it underesti-
mated their political abilities. In part these misreadings resulted from the basic cul-
tural and institutional differences between clergyman and soldier. Dom Paulo is
the best example. The Situagao believed the archbishop was becoming more mod-
erate. Yet less than a year after the sesquicentennial he risked a major confrontation
with the military by holding a memorial mass for Alexandre Vannucchi Leme, a
student who had been tortured to death at the DOI-CODI (see chapter 10). A simi-
lar conclusion can be applied to the case of Dom Fernando. He viliﬁed the regime
but also retreated when necessary. Thus in the interests of the institution, the bish-
ops displayed an enormous capacity for what Brazilians popularly call jogo de cintu-
ra, or ﬂexibility. As a result, participation in the Bipartite bought the Church time
to shape its response to the regime while resolving its own internal conﬂicts. The
bishops exercised strategic accommodation. At times ﬂexibility meant criticizing
the attitudes of the grassroots in the presence of the Grupo da Situacao. However,
the Grupo Religioso still defended the clergy’s right to carry out its religious mis-
sion.

But the Bipartite was more than a battle of political strategies. It involved a
process in which two institutions tried to map out areas of responsibility in a long-
term regime of exception bent on modernizing the country. Dom Fernando’s com-
ments embodied a major challenge: how to temper the imperative for economic
growth with social justice. Thus both within and beyond the Bipartite, Church and
regime struggled over new deﬁnitions of patriotism in light of the competition
between national security and religious liberation. In the broader historical context
of rapid socioeconomic and political change, the Bipartite aimed to protect but also
redeﬁne and even limit the moral concordat.

The Bipartite might extinguish isolated or incipient confrontations, but once
incidents gained national and even international prominence as decisive encoun-

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The Cotton Between the Crystals

ters between the regime and its opponents, its effectiveness was limited. The con-
trast between the cases of Dom Fernando and Dom Pedro is instructive. The
Bipartite temporarily neutralized the former but had no effect on the latter. The
land question was a larger structural issue that profoundly affected Brazilian socie-
ty and generated widespread conﬂict, including Dom Pedro’s decision to side with
the posseiros. In effect, the land question was too big an issue for a secret commis-
sion to negotiate in the context of an authoritarian system. The “cotton” of the
Bipartite was only partial protection.

163

Chapter 8   The Struggle Against Human Rights Abuses

164

and Censorship

man rights violations were a prime reason for the
Bipartite. Concern about abuses stemmed from the
commission’s initial goal of alleviating conﬂict result-
ing from the repression of Catholic activists. It grew

 

into the main issue of the Grupo Religioso. This
chapter focuses on the struggle forhuman rights in Rio de Janeiro
and the commissions debates over human rights and censorship.
Most analyses of the Brazilian Church correctly point to the arch-
diocese of Sao Paulo as a leader in the struggle for human rights, but
Rio also made a signiﬁcant contribution.

Whereas the bishops took the defensive on subversion, they went
on the offensive for human rights. From the Church’s standpoint,
frictions would diminish if the government freed unjustly accused
individuals and stopped the mistreatment of prisoners. As radical
priests and outspoken bishops were the Church’s weak point, tor-
turers and executioners were the regime’s. Especially in the last two
years of the Bipartite, Candido Mendes, Dom Ivo, and the other
bishops insisted that the military explain the whereabouts of desa-
parecidos and the circumstances of fatalities. General Muricy and
the intelligence ofﬁcers defended the version of events put forth by
the regime. In this sense they showed less candor than the bishops,
who were more willing to recognize the faults within their institu-
tion. The bishops did not get the kind of concessions they them-
selves had made. This is not surprising given the strength of the
hard—liners and the repressive forces. Nevertheless, the Grupo
Religioso relentlessly challenged the Situacao on this issue.

The Bipartite’s importance for human rights lies not so much

The Struggle Against Abuses

in the release of prisoners as in its function as a voice of opposition. In contrast
with the sometimes self-contradictory positions taken on political issues, the
Church’s private voice on human rights consistently reinforced what it said pub-
licly. There could be no compromise. And when the regime muffled the Church’s
public statements, the Grupo Religioso kept pressure on the military behind the
scenes until the Church could become more vocal in the Geisel years. The political
culture facilitated this process: one sector of the elite privately pointed out the
errors of another. Not until the Geisel administration did the public voice grow
stronger and have an impact on politics, as evidenced by the key protests of Dom
Paulo and his archdiocese in 1975 and thereafter. By then the regime had begun to
use repression more selectively, not only because the security forces had effective-
ly stiﬂed opposition (Gorender 1998:232) but also because the Church had exposed
the existence of torture. The Bipartite played a key part in making torture a politi-
cal issue.

Torture was not unique or new to post-1964 Brazil. It had a long record in the
history of civilizations, including presumably advanced ones. The British employed
torture in Kenya, and the French used it in Algeria, for instance. The U.S. govern-
ment quietly trained and heavily equipped the Brazilian military and police for
combat against internal security threats. It also did nothing to stop torture and
death squads; in fact, U.S. operatives collaborated with the repressive forces and
supplied materials such as generators that Brazilian torturers used to apply electric
shocks to their victims (Huggins 1998, Langguth 1978). Torture echoed powerfully
from the Church’s distant past. As the Brasil: Nunca Mais project recognized, the
national security state’s methods strongly resembled the inquisitorial techniques of
the Middle Ages (Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1985:281—9o). Latin America’s torturers
had plenty of examples from their own societies’ long history. Torture ﬁgured
prominently in the slavocracies tolerated by the Church and the authorities for
hundreds of years. In Brazil police routinely used torture against the lower classes
long before 1964 and continued to do so after 1985.1

Top military leaders claimed that torture was not official policy and that it did
not exist or only rarely occurred. Twice Médici issued to his cabinet explicit orders
against torture: “Our people are dying and have a right to strike back with arms.
This is a war in which you kill or are killed. But to arrest someone and submit him
to torture is so cowardly and ignoble that I cannot ﬁnd the right words for con-
demning such a sordid practice. I categorically prohibit torture in my administra-
tion.”2 The security forces either never received or conveniently ignored these
orders, however, and torture became part of the regime’s systematic witch hunt

165

Glossary and Key to Abbreviations

PUC-R]—-Pontificia Universidade Catélica do Rio de Janeiro (Pontiﬁcal Catholic University
of Rio de Janeiro). One of Brazil’s most traditional institutions of higher education.

PUC-SP——Pontificia Universidade Catélica de Sao Paulo (Pontiﬁcal Catholic University of
Sao Paulo)

REB—Revz'sta Eclesicistica Brasileira

S2—internal security section of a unit of the Brazilian Army
SAR—Servigo de Assisténcia Rural (Rural Assistance Service)
SEDOC—Servz'§0 de Documentagdo

SNI—Servigo Nacional de Informagoes (National Information Service). A government
intelligence agency opened by the military regime in 1964. In each military govern-
ment, its head was one of the most powerful men in the president’s cabinet.

Te Deum—a thanksgiving service

UDN—Uni5o Democrética Nacional (National Democratic Union). A conservative political
party in the period from 1945 to 1965.

UNE—Uni§o Nacional dos Estudantes (National Union of Students)

USP—Universidade de S510 Paulo (University of Sao Paulo). Brazil’s ﬁrst university and a
center of student and revolutionary upheaval in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Vatican II—the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) brought together the world’s Catholic
bishops in a series of meetings to rethink the life and constitution of the Church. It
advocated the most sweeping reforms in the history of the Church.

xvii

The Struggle Against Abuses

against the opposition. Except forone case (discussed in the next chapter), torture
went unpunished during and after military rule.

In Brazil no institution, including the Church, had ever bothered to lift its voice
against torture. It became an issue after 1964 for a number of reasons. Greater con-
sciousness about human rights developed in the West after the atrocities of World
War II. At Vatican II, the Church ofﬁcially adopted the human rights cause. The
Médici era was decisive in building a commitment to human rights in the Brazilian
Church. Torture deeply affected the intelligentsia (including the media), the middle
class, and the clergy for the ﬁrst time in the country’s history, although Vargas’s
authoritarian Estado Novo had employed it against Communists and other sus-
pected regime enemies. In addition, torture took place in a highly polarized politi-
cal climate, and the opposition used it to criticize the regime at home and abroad.
The regime’s minimalization of torture as an exceptional “excess” only increased
moral indignation and the opposition’s ability to capitalize on it.

The Battle For Human Rights in Rio de Janeiro

In the early 1970s the Grupo Religioso became part of a growing mosaic of
Church and other domestic and foreign groups working to defend human rights in
Brazil?’ Three of the most important groups were located within blocks of each
other in Rio de ]aneiro—the CNBB headquarters; the curia of the archdiocese of
Rio de Janeiro; and the CJP-BR, the Brazilian Section of the Pontiﬁcal Peace and
Justice Commission. Because of these organizations’ international prestige, Rio de
Janeiro became a kind of human rights clearinghouse. Each organization had rep-
resentatives at the Bipartite.

The CNBB

In the 1970s, the CNBB became the national voice of the Brazilian Church, issu-
ing critical statements against human rights violations and socioeconomic inequal-
ity. Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo provided the key leadership. Their discretionary
power was enormous, for the CNBB usually operated not as a general assembly or
representative subcommittee but as a small administrative unit directed by the
president, secretary general, and a small number of aides. They received denuncia-
tions of abuses almost daily (Virgilio Rosa Netto interview). The CNBB headquar-
ters stood as one of the most important contacts in the Church’s underground net-
work of information about human rights.‘‘

The core of the CNBB’s human rights work was the so-called Grupo Nao-

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The Struggle Against Abuses

Violéncia, inspired by Dom Hélder’s preachings against violence. Because the
regime prohibited all reportage on Dom Hélder, Church militants proposed Dom
Paulo, the new archbishop of Sao Paulo, as the leader of the group. In early 1971,
Dom Paulo, Dom Waldyr, and more than a dozen other bishops and Church insid-
ers met at the archiepiscopal palace in Sao Paulo to ratify the decision. The embat-
tled Dom Hélder also attended, passing on the mantle to Dom Paulo. The group
established the Centro Informativo e N50 Violéncia and an underground human
rights bulletin. The Grupo N50-Violéncia met every year on the eve of the CNBB
general assembly and grew to include sixty bishops. Representatives of Protestant
churches also participated.5

The Curia of the Archdiocese: Dom Eugenio

Human rights work in the archdiocese of Rio de Janeiro stemmed from the dis-
crete leadership of Dom Eugenio, whose inﬂuence extended into the CNBB and the
C]P—BR. Dom Eugénids attitude angered and puzzled people in the Church and the
regime. On one hand, his diplomatic, more traditionally patriotic approach to
Church—state relations and his attempt to “remake” Brazil’s human rights image in
Europe made Dom Eugenio unpopular with progressive Catholics. When he
became cardinal-archbishop of Rio de Janeiro after the death of Dom Jaime de
Barros Camara in 1971, he fully assumed the role of “prince” of the Brazilian
Church.“ A large group of priests in Rio protested the appointment because they
believed he was too conservative.7 He further irritated progressives because he
insisted on representing the institution at civic acts with military leaders. On the
other hand, the CIE believed that Dom Eugenio acted “in an ambiguous way, . . .
supporting the government and the CNBB” at the same time.8 The cardinal some-
times showed outright hostility to security agents. In 1975, for instance, he blocked
DOPS agents at the door of his residence and prohibited them from returning to
ask questions about radical priests.9 The noncommittal stance allowed Dom
Eugenio to tap into different circles in his attempts to protect people.

During the Médici years, Dom Eugenio aided dozens of people, including
priests who were imprisoned or threatened by the repressive forces (Ponte Neto
interview; Pretto interview). The cardinal exercised the utmost care, refusing to act
if he did not have all the facts. For instance, when a member of a progressive, anti-
regime Catholic think tank was tortured, Dom Eugenio did not intervene because
he lacked clear information. When he did act, however, he was efﬁcacious.1° In
some cases he took individuals into his home or had them spend the night in the
residences of archdiocesan employees. Dom Eugenio frequently used old, unsuspi-

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The Struggle Against Abuses

cious priests to help in these missions. In some cases the cardinal himself or a
Church oﬂicial personally escorted wanted subversives from the archdiocese to
Rio’s Galeﬁo International Airport, where Dom Eugenio moved about without
interference from security men.” In addition, Dom Eugenio often received requests
for help from Dom Paulo to help free individuals from prison, despite the ideolog-
ical differences of the two bishops.”

Dom Eugenio protested to Médici about the use of torture. Médici admitted
that torture existed but blamed it on disobedience in the chain of command—a not
uncommon way for the regime’s leaders to explain abuses. Dom Eugénio under-
stood Médici’s difﬁculties, because, as he told the general, he too gave “orders that
are not complied with in my diocese.” Yet, while the cardinal sought to maintain
dialogue with Médici, at no moment did he allow it to serve as approval of the pres-
ident’s excuses about torture.” On one occasion he personally left the president a
note that spoke of the “importance of locating a group of prisoners that has disap-
peared.” The resolution of the case would “prove the government’s intentions to
respect human rights” (Gaspari 1997b).

During the Geisel presidency, Dom Eugenio extended his defense of human
rights to political refugees from Argentina, Chile, and Uruguay. Among these were
guerrillas such as the Argentine Montoneros. Dom Eugenio received the refugees in
the official episcopal residence. In early 1976, as the numbers seeking asylum rose,
the cardinal organized an underground railroad to funnel individuals into exile in
the United States and Europe. The archdiocese rented sixty-two apartments-
mainly in Rio’s middle-class Zona Sul neighborhoods of Flamengo, Botafogo, and
Copacabana—to house the refugees temporarily. At ﬁrst each exile was given an
alias, later a number. Soon after the start of the program the United Nations lent
ﬁnancial support. By the end of the decade, some six thousand persons left the con-
tinent through these efforts.“

In one incident, Dom Eugenio negotiated with a group of political reﬁigees who
had invaded the Swiss embassy seeking asylum and requesting Dom Paulo and
Dom Hélder as intermediaries. Dom Eugenio promised the refugees safety and
took them in his ofﬁcial car to Sumaré, the cardinal’s home in the hills overlooking
Rio. There they stayed for several months until Dom Eugenio personally escorted
them to Galeﬁo for a ﬂight to Switzerland (Dom Eugenio interview).

By aiding refugees Dom Eugenio knew he was violating the laws of the regime.
He had disrupted the ﬁght against subversion in the backyard of the First Army,
Brazil’s most important military group, and amid a swarm of intelligence opera-
tions run by police agencies, the SNI, and the three branches of the armed forces.

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The Struggle Against Abuses

Muricy (left),
Dona Virginia,
and Paraguayan
dictator General
Alfredo Stroessner,
August 1970.
Muricy and
Stroessner shared '
concerns about
subversion, and
Brazil provided the
Paraguayan with

military assistance.

The situation was further complicated because Brazil had refused to sign a 1967
U.N. protocol on reﬁigees. Dom Eugenio personally informed the First Army com-
mander of the refugee operation, however, and he used his enormous prestige with
the generals to cause the government to “close its eyes” to the escape of subversives
(Dom Eugenio interview). This tolerance contradicted the military’s efforts to
cooperate with neighboring countries in the hunt for subversives.

General Muricy helped orchestrate international cooperation. Starting in the
19603, the dictatorship of Paraguayan president Alfredo Stroessner collaborated
with the Brazilian authorities. Stroessner had trained with the Brazilian military in
the late 1930s under General Orlando Geisel. As Army chief of staff, Muricy visited
Stroessner in order to strengthen ties between the two countries’ armed forces.
Brazil backed Stroessner with military equipment (Muricy 1993:657—58), and

16.9

The Struggle Against Abuses

Stroessner supported Muricy’s warnings about the inﬁltration of subversives
among youths.15 One of the victims of the Paraguayan sweep against the left was
Henrique Mariani Bittencourt, detained for two weeks in 1973 for carrying subver-
sive literature. Bittencourt was the son of Clemente Mariani, the president of the
Banco da Bahia and ﬁnance minister in the Quadros government.“ In 1975, Brazil
and Paraguay joined Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, and Uruguay to form Operation
Condor, a cooperative police effort to capture subversives.”

The Brazilian regime never ofﬁcially accepted the refugees, however. The
Brazilian Policia Federal, Interpol (the international police organization), and the
Argentine embassy all knew of Dom Eugénio’s operation and tried to obtain infor-
mation from the archdiocese about wanted persons. The police even followed one
of Dom Eugénio’s assistants home because they incorrectly believed the man was
harboring refugees. Sometimes they sent lists of names to the chancery ofﬁces. But
the archdiocese refused to cooperate. For instance, when contacted about an indi-
vidual being protected, Dom Eugenio denied the information and immediately
had the person sent away so as to avoid his arrest (Ponte Neto interview).

The Brazilian Peace and justice Commission

The third leading Church group in Rio was the CJP-BR, created in 1968 as a
result of Vatican II’s focus on issues of justice and peace. In order to avoid reprisals,
the commission took the name “Pontiﬁcal——Brazilian Section” to associate itself
with the Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission in Rome and therefore the
Vatican’s prestige.” Brazil’s ﬁrst representative on the Roman body was Alceu
Amoroso Lima, succeeded in the early 1970s by Candido Mendes. Dom Eugénio
also became a member. According to Vatican criteria, the CJP—BR was to dedicate
itself exclusively to the study of social ills and other matters broadly related to
peace and justice. It quickly became involved in the defense of political prisoners.

Although Paul VI had made his ﬁrst public comments against torture in Brazil
in early 1970 (Della Cava 197o:135), Vatican approval of the CJP—BR’s activist
approach came only in 1971. In March and April of that year, Rio hosted the Fourth
Latin American Justice and Peace Conference and the First Brazilian Peace and
Justice Seminar. In line with the academic orientation desired by Rome, leading
center-left intellectuals such as Hélio Jaguaribe and Paul Singer joined with
Candido Mendes, prominent clergymen, and others to study social and political
issues. Rural workers, proletarians, and other grassroots representatives also spoke
of their experiences (CJP-BR 1971). Outside the meeting hall, however, a more dra-
matic testimony of Brazilians’ suffering convinced the Vatican’s envoy of the need

170

The Struggle Against Abuses

for an energetic defense of human rights.As people called CJP-BR member Marina
Bandeira outside the room to seek help for their imprisoned relatives, she invited
Dom Joseph Grémillion, the Roman commission’s secretary general, to hear their
stories of the repression (Marina Bandeira interview). This contact led Dom
Grémillion to authorize the C]P—BR to offer assistance to the victims and their fam-
ilies. He further approved the Brazilians’ proposal to establish additional, regional
C]Ps in order to cover more effectively the country’s immense territory (CNBB
198318-19).

The last day of the meeting, a kind of expanded version of the Bipartite took
place at which the government worked to counter negative images of Brazil. Dom
Grémillion, Dom Mozzoni, Dom Eugénio, Dom Aloisio, and Dom Ivo attended a
luncheon with General Muricy, ofﬁcers from the Situacao, Guanabara governor
Antonio de Padua Chagas Freitas, and two of Médici’s cabinet members, Minister
of Planning Joao Paulo dos Reis Veloso and Minister of Mines and Energy Antonio
Dias Leite. They discussed Brazil’s social and economic problems, national securi-
ty, Church-state relations, and the publicity given torture. General Muricy believed
that the meeting gave Dom Grémillion a positive impression of the military regime,
for the bishop expressed a desire to continue Church-military dialogue and pledged
to inform Pope Paul VI about the growth of “the social conscience of the Brazilian
military man.”19

Nevertheless, the CJP-BR worked intensively to defend human rights. It received
and evaluated denunciations of abuses from across Brazil. In all, it accumulated
ﬁles on some two thousand individuals (Bandeira 1994276). CJP-BR secretary gen-
eral Candido Mendes took a number of these allegations to the Bipartite. In other
instances, the CJP-BR worked with the bishops to locate political prisonersand in
some cases help them leave Brazil, and it provided families with legal assistance.
Led by attorney Heleno Fragoso, a national network of twenty-ﬁve lawyers handled
the CJP-BR’s cases. The CJP-BR’s work was not only religious but political. It want-
ed to denounce human rights violations to the rest of the Church and to demon-
strate that the victims were not forgotten. This approach eventually served as a
model for similar commissions in other countries.”

The CJP-BR helped stimulate the creation of the regional commissions.
Members of these groups belonged to the CJP-BR, which coordinated activities at
the national level and conciliated differences of approach. The most prominent was
the Sao Paulo Commission (CJP-SP), founded by Dom Paulo. Because it operated in
the city with the heaviest repression, the CJP-SP came to overshadow the work of
the others, including the CJP-BR. The CJP-SP’s staff of top lawyers aided the fami-

171

The Struggle Against Abuses

lies of hundreds of prisoners, while the cardinal himself frequently visited the jails
and demanded to see prisoners. Dom Paulo emphasized public denunciation of
human rights violations, and in the mid— to late 1970s, the CJP-SP led the national
campaign against repression and for redemocratization.” In contrast, the CJP-BR
took a low-proﬁle approach inspired by Dom Eugénio’s diplomacy and Candido
Mendes’s emphasis on dialogue. The two commissions clearly disagreed over style
and occasionally engaged in power struggles, but they cooperated in the defense of
human rights.”

Candido Mendes’s key role in defending human rights extended beyond the ter-
mination of the Bipartite in August 1974. As the Muricy link declined in impor-
tance, the secretary general of the CJP-BR carried complaints to General Golbery,
who had returned to the government as the head of Geisel’s civilian presidential
staff. Candido Mendes had opened this channel by arranging for a long private
meeting between Golbery and Dom Paulo shortly before Geisel’s inauguration.”
The meeting temporarily raised hopes of improved Church-state relations and led
to further contact between Golbery and the episcopal leadership. In mid-1974, for
instance, Candido Mendes went with Dom Paulo and others to Brasilia to protest
against human rights violations by presenting Golbery with a list of twenty—two
recent desaparecidos. One of the missing was Paulo Stuart Wright, a state repre-
sentative removed from office by the military in the 1960s and later executed and
“disappeared” by the DOI-CODI antisubversive unit in S50 Paulo because of his
membership in Agao Popular Marxista-Leninista (Marxist-Leninist Popular
Action), a revolutionary organization with roots in Catholic Action. The Victim was
the brother of Protestant minister Jaime Wright, a close collaborator of Dom Paulo
in the human rights struggle and a suspected subversive.“ According to Jaime
Wright, Golbery was moved by the documentation presented by Dom Paulo
(Skidmore 1988:169, and n. 28). The general promised to locate thirteen individu-
als missing in S50 Paulo. When a CJP-BR delegation returned a month later, how-
ever, Golbery had not found a single person. He admitted that the intermediate lev-
els of the Army, where abuses were occurring, were out of control. The general stat-
ed to Candido Mendes that in order to stop the repression he would cut the mili-
tary budget and therefore reduce the amount of ﬁinds going to the repressive sec-
tors.25 The pressure from the Church led Golbery, an architect of the abertura, to
try to inﬂuence Geisel to end torture by the armed forces.”

172

The Struggle Against Abuses

The Bipartite and Human Rights

Because campaigns for human rights rallied the opposition and sullied Brazil’s
international image, the government classiﬁed them as a tactic of revolutionary
warfare. The religious champions of human rights stood with the left and therefore
the international Communist movement. Ipso facto, the Church was subversive.
Through the Bipartite, the Grupo da Situacio tried to convince the bishops to tone
down their human rights message. On the other side, the Grupo Religioso demand-
ed that the Situagzio explain and resolve cases of human rights violations. This posi-
tion reﬂected the CNBB’s desire for immediate accountability on human rights as
violence and Church skepticism about the regime increased.

The Military Critique of Human Rights

The Situacéio upheld its position by attacking the bishops’ statements on
human rights. An outstanding example was General Adolpho Joao de Paula Couto’s
analysis of the CNBB’s 1973 document commemorating the twenty-ﬁfth anniver-
sary of the U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Schooled in national secu-
rity doctrine, Paula Couto feared the episcopal document would inspire the oppo-
sition and create further Church—state tension. After consulting the conservative
Dom Vicente Scherer, who was disgruntled with the CNBB,” the general conclud-
ed that a small group of progressives had misled the uninformed majority of the
CNBB’s General Assembly into adopting the “Communist technique” for defending
human rights. The bishops misunderstood the government’s antisubversive meth-
ods. “The degree of repression has to be proportional to the nature of the crimes,”
Paula Couto wrote. “If these are violent, such as those practiced by terrorists, mild
repression does not make sense.” The prelates’ critique of capitalism encouraged
the subversion of liberal democracy, staunchly defended by the Church. The
CNBB’s support for unions, theological training courses, measures for the poor,
and lay activism all encouraged “class struggle” and threatened to return Brazil to
the political instability of the pre-1964 period. The human rights document rein-
forced the Church’s leftward shift by protecting liberation theologians’ right to

“ express “new ideas.” Abandoning its religious mission, the CNBB verged on becom-

ing a political movement that both opposed and competed with the government.”

Paula Couto recommended that the regime neutralize the “monstrous” docu-
ment by persuading moderate bishops to reconsider their support for progressives.
If unsuccessful, the regime should then “put the Church on the defensive” by pub-
lishing critiques of CNBB pronouncements and by pressuring the Vatican to dis-

173

The Struggle Against Abuses

avow the bishops’ human rights declaration.” In the end the government opted for
banning the document from the media, but the Church skirted the prohibition by
circulating more than one million copies of a pamphlet on the U.N. Declaration in
parishes and base communities (CEBS) (Della Cava and Montero 1991:4o—41).

In May 1973, the Grupo da Situacao harshly criticized another key document,
the northeastern bishops’ “I Heard the Cry of My People.” Its distribution blocked,
this manifesto denounced the extreme poverty of the Northeast, the government’s
failure to decrease social inequality, and the manipulative and abusive tactics of the
regime (Camara et al. 1973). The members of the Situagao described the statement
as “tendentious” and “aggressive” and condemned its use of such terms as “ofﬁcial
terrorism.” The Situagads written report on the pronouncement concluded that
the radical bishops had penned the document to rally the Brazilian Catholic left
and international opinion around Dom Hélder in their antigovernment struggle.
At the next meeting General Muricy pointed out that the document had received
press coverage in Cuba, Chile, and Europe.3°

The Situacﬁo worked to blunt other efforts of the Grupo Religioso. For instance
it denied a request by Candido Mendes to admit a bishop to the Ministry of
Justice’s National Council for the Rights of Man. With U.S. support the council
actually obstructed the investigation of human rights violations. General Muricy
instead recommended that the Church enroll priests in the ESG and take part in
ADESG seminars on national problems.“ The Situacao later opposed efforts by
Dom Candido Padim to create a “tribunal” of bishops to judge acts of the Brazilian
government. The Situacao believed the panel would model itself on the Vietnam
war crimes tribunal started by British philosopher and paciﬁst Bertrand Russell.”
In fact, a second Russell tribunal convened in 1974. It criticized human rights vio-
lations in Brazil.”

In another example, General Muricy expressed fear that the work of the
Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission in Rome could generate friction between
Church and state. Rather than taking positions, it should concentrate on “concilia-
tion.” In his eyes it had made progress by establishing a protocol that required local
denunciations in Brazil to be channeled through-——and substantiated by—the
CNBB before being sent to Rome. Candido Mendes hinted that informal contacts
between the Grupo da Situacao and Dom Grémillion had contributed to the cre-
ation of this mechanism. (Dom Eugenio pushed the measure in Rome.) It was
already having an effect. A parish priest had written to Rome about “irregularities”
on sugar plantations in Pernambuco, but Maurice Cardinal Roy, the president of
the papal commission, referred the matter to the CNBB for evaluation.“

174

The Struggle Against Abuses

Church Demands for an Accounting 0fAtrocitz'es

The most serious disputes involved speciﬁc complaints of abuse raised by the
Grupo Religioso. Cross-referencing General Muricy’s papers with data from the
Brasil: Nunca Mais project and other sources, table 4 describes the circumstances
of the cases discussed at the Bipartite. Most of the examples took place after 1972,
when the Bipartite had made a deﬁnite shift away from ideological debate to resolv-
ing concrete conﬂicts. As repression deepened and hopes of collaboration faded,
the emphasis on human rights became greater. Although Candido Mendes and the
bishops frequently sought to aid clergymen and lay workers, they also defended the
rights of members of the secular opposition. For instance, Dom Ivo brought up the
case of Joaquim Pires Cerveira, a former Army major turned revolutionary.
Mentioning him raised the specter of the tirelessly hunted Captain Carlos Lamarca,
considered a traitor for turning against the regime. Cerveira was later conﬁrmed
dead, though his body was not recovered. The bishops pressed the Situacao most
in the case of Alexandre Vannucchi Leme, a member of the ALN and a popular stu-
dent leader (his case is discussed in chapter 10). The Grupo Religioso broadened
the concept of human rights by including concerns about victims’ relatives and the
situation of ordinary people caught up in typical conﬂicts of the day, such as peas-
ants battling land development ﬁrms.

One of the most prominent cases of the Bipartite centered on the center—left
political leader Rubens Paiva, purged from Congress after the coup. In 1971 he was
captured by the DOI—CODI and tortured. After Paiva’s disappearance, the regime
claimed he had been kidnapped from the Army security forces, but few believed the
outrageous assertion. When Candido Mendes relayed Dom Grémillion’s concern
about Paiva, General Muricy stated that nothing could be done because the case
was in the hands of the courts. In its conﬁdential Bipartite report, the Situacao
noted that the matter lay outside the Church’s area of competence.” Paiva, in fact,
had been murdered in the Casa de Petropolis, an Army death center near Rio de
Janeiro. His body was cut into pieces and disposed of in different places (Expedito
Filho 1992:29).

In mid-1974 the two groups locked horns over the Movimento Popular de
Libertacao (MPL; Popular Liberation Movement), a Christian-Marxist group
founded by Brazilian exiles. Like dozens of other revolutionary organizations, in
the late 1960s the MPL fought to overthrow the regime. By the early 1970s, howev-
er, it lost its original impetus and may even have dissolved. Nevertheless, the mili-
tary believed it still active, and in January 1974, the security forces carried out a

175



The Struggle Against Abuses

Table 4. Human Rights Cases Examined by the bipartite

Date Case
Discussed Victim(s) Activities Comments
July 1, 1971 Employees of sugar None mentioned. Candido Mendes asked
plantations General Muricy to help
solve problem. 1
July 1, 1971 Rubens Paiva Former congressman Candido Mendes informed
"disappeared" by security Situacao of Dom
forces. Grémillion's concern about
the case.
July 1, 1971 Fr. Fernando Bastos Director, IBRADES. Quarters violated during
de Avila invasion of IBRADES. Later
dropped from military investi-
gaﬁon.
Jan. 24, 1972 Geomar Ribeiro da Silva, Soldiers at military Killed by torturers during

May 30, July 25,
Aug. 29, 1973

July 25, 1973

Aug. 29, 1973

Sept. 26, 1973

Sept. 26, 1973

Nov. 5, 1973

Nov. 5, 1973

Juarez Moncao Virote,
Roberto Vicente da Silva,
Wanderley de Oliveira

Alexandre Vannucchi
Leme

Dom Pedro Casaldaliga,
clergymen, lay pastoral
agents, and numerous
peasants and Amerindians

Antonio Vieira dos Santos,
Benedito Pereira da Silva

Numerous peasants in
Maranhao

Numerous

Fr. Virgilio Leite Uchéa

Unnamed prisoners held
in Northeast

barracks in Barra
Mansa.

Student leader at USP,
member of the ALN.

Accused of subversion for
involvement in Church
activities and land conflicts.

Worked for Operacao
Esperanca, a Church
social program in Recife.

Difficulties with land
development companies.

None mentioned.

CNBB aide and human
rights activist, cleared of
charges along with thirty-
one other clerics for
protesting death of student
Edson Luis in 1968.

None given.

internal investigation
ostensibly aimed against
mariiuana trafficking in
barracks. Case denounced
by Dom Waldyr and Dom
lvo (see chapter 9).

Died after torture by security
forces (see chapter 10).

Dom lvo denounced human
rights violations.

Arrested and held
incommunicado for several
months. Located through
Bipartite and released along
with other pastoral workers
being held prisoner.

Dom lvo brought problem
before Situacao.

Dom Aloisio proposes
pastoral care for jailed
subversives. General Muricy
promises to study request.

Dom lvo informed that
DOPS/GB blocked issuance
of priest's passport.

General Muricy confirmed
that individuals were in
prison but in good health.

( Table 4 continued)

The Struggle Against Abuses

Date Case

Discussed Victim(s) Activities Comments

Nov. 5, W73 All prisoners None given. Candido Mendes cited focus
on human rights as
fundamental for improving
Bipartite.

March 24, 1974 Cristina Schroeter Former nun. Arrested during sweep

March 24,
May 29, l974

March 24, 1974

March 24, 1974

March 24, W74

March 24, 1974

May 29, 1974

Simeao

Waldemar Rossi

Maria Nilde Mascelani

Relatives seeking
information about prisoners

through the CNBB

Joaquim Pires Cerveira

Joao Batista Pereda,
a.k.a. Joao Batista Rita

Fernando Augusto de
Santa Cruz Oliveira,
Eduardo Collier Filho

Labor leader, member
of CJP-SP.

Pastoral agent and
teacher removed from
public job.

None mentioned.

Former Brazilian Army
major turned guerrilla for
the Frente de Libertacao
Nacional (National
Liberation Front), linked

to ALN and other groups.

None given.

None given at Bipartite.
Both belonged to Acao
Popular Marxista—
Leninista, originally a
Catholic group.

against MPL and
interrogated in Petrépolis.

Badly treated after transfer
to DOPS/ SP.

Arrested in $60 Paulo for
alleged involvement with
MPL. Eventually released.

Arrested in Scio Paulo during
sweep against MPL. Ac-
cused of authoring sub-
versive literature. Tortured.

Ultimately absolved and
freed.

Candido Mendes obtained
consent from General
Muricy to tell families that
relatives were jailed.

Exiled, then captured in
Argentina by Brazilian
police and jailed in Rio.
Dom lvo pointed out

that case had negative
repercussion in Argentina.
Witnesses stated that
Cerveira was tortured.
Desaparecido, later
confirmed dead.

Along with Cerveira,
captured in Argentina and
brought to Brazil.
Desaparecido.

Candido Mendes inquired
about their whereabouts.
Arrested by DOjl-CODI in
Rio in Feb. l974. Regime
claimed Oliveira was still
clandestine. Both
desaparecidos.

(table continues)

177

The Struggle Against Abuses

(Table 4 continued)

Date Case
Discussed

Victim(s)

Activities

Comments

May 29, 1974

Aug. 26, 1974

Aug. 26, 1974

Aug. 26, 1974

Aug. 26, 1974

Numerous

Father Francois Jentel

Twenty-two unnamed
cases

Sérgio Rubens de
Arauio Torres

Unspecified cases

Theodomiro Romeiro
dos Santos

Dom Hélder Camara

French missionary,
defended peasants in
land conflict with large
company in 350 Félix
do Araguaia.

None given.

None given. Member
of MR-8 (Movimento
Revolucionério 8 de

Outubro).

None given.

None given.

Human ﬁghts leader.

Tried and convicted for
violating the National
Security Law. Absolved after
retrial. Left Brazil alter
Candido Mendes negotiated
with General Golbery. After
return, expelled from Brazil
in 1975 (see chapter 6 for
details).

Candido Mendes stated that
Dom Eugénio and Dom
Paulo had encountered
"good receptivity" with
respect to "pending cases,"
of which twenty-tvvo
remained. Reference to
earlier meeting with

Golbery.
Candido Mendes asked

about whereabouts of Torres,
feared captured by agents in
Sao Paulo in a sweep
against MR-8. Torres had
participated in 1969 kidnap-
ping of US. ambassador.
Torres was freed, but other
MR-8 members were
detained.

Dom lvo complained about
"certain mysteries" involving
the "strange form" of impris-
onment and disappearance
of individuals in Sao Paulo.

Dom Avelar requested that
life sentence of the
seventeen-year-old prisoner,
originally sentenced to death
for shooting a policeman, be
reduced.

Defended by fellow bishgw.

Sources: FGV/CPDOC/ACM; Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1988; Comissao de Familiares 1996; Dom Waldyr interview.

178

The Struggle Against Abuses

sweep against it. In Rio, Sao Paulo, and elsewhere they arrested and tortured mem-
bers of the Workers’ Pastoral and other Catholic groups linked to the MPL.” The
attacks were clearly aimed at undermining the Church’s grassroots political activi-
ty and its defense of human rights. At least twenty Church workers were involved.
Both Dom Lucas and Dom Paulo issued letters to the clergy denouncing the arrests.
Along with Church lawyers, the clergymen managed to locate and obtain the
release of most of the prisoners.37 The case ultimately proved yet another example
of military stonewalling.

At the March 1974 Bipartite meeting, the Grupo Religioso vigorously protested
the arrests, showing particular concern for the safety of Waldemar Rossi, a leader
of the Workers’ Pastoral and a founding member of the CJP-SP. Rossi’s case was
handled by Sérgio Paranhos Fleury, the infamous police detective who killed Carlos
Marighella and linked the Dominicans to subversion in 1969. Fleury was one of the
regime’s most brutal torturers and ran a death squad in Sao Paulo. Candido
Mendes believed Fleury’s assignment to Rossi was more than coincidence, and
Dom Lucas feared that Rossi’s declarations to the police “could have been obtained
under [the] climate of fear and compulsion.” The Situacao denied the charges. In
May 1974, Candido Mendes and the bishops again prodded the Situagao for infor-
mation on Rossi and other imprisoned MPL suspects.”

Rossi was ultimately released, but others caught in the dragnet disappeared. At
the May 1974 encounter, Candido Mendes sought to learn the whereabouts of
Fernando Augusto de Santa Cruz Oliveira and Eduardo Collier Filho, militants for
Acao Popular Marxista—Leninista. Neither had been seen since their arrest in
February 1974. It was Collier Filho’s second brush with the regime, for, as a student
in Salvador, he had been jailed in 1969 for subversive activities. Candido Mendes
handed General Muricy a copy of a petition made by the victims’ families to
General Golbery. In a typical response, Muricy stated that he had requested infor-
mation on the missing men from police and security organizations and that no
record existed of their imprisonment. He asserted that Oliveira and Collier Filho
likely had gone into hiding after hearing of the operation against the MPL. Both
were never found.”

The military’s intransigence on human rights meant that most cases were not
resolved. Even the Church’s public campaign for human rights in Sao Paulo freed
few prisoners, though it probably prevented abuses (Pope 1985:437). Through the
Bipartite, however, the Grupo Religioso located two pastoral workers who had dis-
appeared from Recife in July 1973. The relatives and colleagues of Antonio Vieira
dos Santos and Benedito José Pereira searched for them without success at the local

179

The Struggle Against Abuses

police, the military police, the public hospitals, and the morgue. Dom Hélder con-
tacted a local judge, who reported several days later that the federal police had no
information. After Dom Hélder notiﬁed the CNBB in Rio, the Grupo Religioso
twice raised the matter at the Bipartite. At ﬁrst, the Situacao had no knowledge of
the matter, but later General Muricy, whose past in Recife gave him certain author-
ity there, revealed that the men were being held in the city’s Army barracks. Dom
Hélder used Muricy’s response to pressure the local commandant, General Walter
Menezes Paes, to provide more details about the men’s situation.“ They were later
released, as were other pastoral workers being held at the same installation (Piletti
and Praxedes 1997:397—98). Muricy had achieved no small task, given Brazil’s vast
size, the insubordination among the numerous security units, the shifting of pris-
oners and their identities, and the central government’s own lack of immediate
access to prisoners (Barboza 1992:168, 174).

Censorship: The Attempt to Stop the ”Voice of the Voice|ess"

The Medici administration increased control over the media as part of national
security policy and propaganda efforts in favor of the economic miracle. On one
level the state invested massively in telecommunications infrastructure and helped
stimulate the growth of the media, in particular television. Powerful media inter-
ests supported the regime. On another level the state fought against subversion
with a number of tactics: the planting of false news; ﬁnancial pressure on uncoop-
erative publishers; the harassment and arrest of journalists; invasions, bombings,
and other forms of violence against both mainstream and opposition newspapers.
The tool most widely used was censorship. The authorities issued hundreds of writ-
ten and oral orders to cut material from Brazil’s papers and news programs. The
theater, cinema, plastic arts, music, and literature were also affected. Censors
seized entire editions of newspapers and closed radio stations. Faced with govern-
ment orders, practically all newspapers agreed to some form of self—censorship. In
extreme cases, the military and later federal police officers occupied the newsrooms
and printing shops of papers. Among the most frequently censored topics were the
security forces, the guerrilla war, intramilitary politics, peaceful dissent against the
regime, human rights abuses, Church-state relations, and individual opposition
leaders such as Dom Hélder.“

Fighting censorship was new for Catholicism. As a combatant of modernity, the
Church had a centuries—long history of opposing heresies and ideas that threatened
the intellectual monopoly of the clergy. In the nineteenth century, Pope Pius IX’s

180

The Struggle Against Abuses

famous Syllabus pointed out the errors of the modern world, among them freedom
of thought and expression. Not until after World War II did the Church declare in
favor of freedom of the press and the importance of public opinion as a guarantor
of democracy. And only in 1953 did Pope Pius XII renounce papal or state censor-
ship of the press. Even then the Church still tried to exert moral control over the
emerging forms of mass media. In 1971 Paul VI’s pastoral instruction Communio et
Progressio marked a sea change in Catholic thinking on the media. For the ﬁrst time
the Church saw modern communications as a force to be understood—and, more
important, used—in the process of evangelization. In Brazil this realization stimu-
lated the expansion and professionalization of the Church’s media efforts. Thus in
1971 the CNBB added a communications department as one of its major pastoral
activities. Furthermore, because it coincided with the worst years of the repression,
the new attitude fostered the proliferation of grassroots publications and informal
news networks (Della Cava and Montero 1991, esp. 136-38).

The Brazilian Church was a major target of censorship. The regime closed a
number of radio stations, blocked the publication and distribution of episcopal
documents, and used the Bipartite to pressure the bishops to avoid, tone down, or
retract their statements. The anti—Church campaign become most intense as the
clergy assumed its role as the “voice of the voiceless.” A prime example was the
weekly archdiocesan newspaper 0 S570 Paulo, subject to prior censorship from 1971
to 1978. Under the aegis of Dom Paulo, the paper printed political commentaries
and news of the Church’s activities. Every week an aide from the Second Army com-
mand was one of the ﬁrst individuals to buy a copy (Dom Amaury interview). The
censors ﬁrst telephoned the editors with orders prohibiting the mention of numer-
ous topics (850 Felix and JOC, for example). Later, acting on orders from Justice
Minister Buzaid, the Federal Police stationed an ofﬁcer in the printing plant. The
agency blocked dozens of articles from the pages of O Sdo Paulo. These actions
impacted the highest levels of the Church, for the cuts included official CNBB com-
muniqués. Dom Aloisio and Dom Ivo protested to Buzaid, and Dom Aloisio threat-
ened to report incidents directly to the foreign press.“ In 1977 O Scio Paulo unsuc-
cessfully sued to strike down censorship as unconstitutional.

The Grupo Religioso confronted the Situacao over control of the news. During
the May 1973 Bipartite debate over the episcopal document “I Heard the Cry of My
People,” Major Lee attacked Dom Lucas for not heeding his warnings about 0 S670
Paulo. The paper insisted on “vehement criticisms of the government” and was the
only one to disobey the ban on “I Heard the Cry.” The paper could no longer con-
tinue in this manner, the major stated. Dom Lucas headed communications for the

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The Struggle Against Abuses

archdiocese of S50 Paulo as well as the CNBB and therefore spoke for the entire
episcopate on matters of the press. He rejected Lee’s “ultimatum” and preferred to
see 0 S670 Paulo “closed rather than gagged.”43 ,

At the July 1973 Bipartite, Dom Ivo tendered examples of censors’ written orders
as speciﬁc proof of prohibitions against reporting on bishops and the CNBB.
General Muricy stated that he agreed with some of the censors’ decisions, although
he professed ignorance about the motives for silencing the CNBB. The general
countered the bishops’ complaints by afﬁrming that the government censored
ﬁlms, plays, and pornographic publications that threatened the Church. “Anything
that disorganizes the family should be censored,” he said.“ At a subsequent meet-
ing Muricy distributed copies of guidelines for movie censors as further evidence of
the regime’s “respect for moral norms and the Church.” These statements reﬂected
Muricy’s religious convictions but also the way in which the conservative military
used traditional morality as a way to shape the Church—state conﬂict.45 They weak-
ened the bishops’ arguments against censorship because some such as Dorn
Eugenio indeed did believe that immoral materials should be banned (Soares,
D’Araujo, and Castro 1995260). The implication was that if the Church wanted the
state’s help against depravity, it should also accept the campaign against subver-
sion.

The incisive Dom Ivo did not fall prey to such argumentation. In August 1973 he
complained again about censorship of the CNBB. General Muricy explained that
the “federal authorities” in Brasilia denied the existence of “any order or recom-
mendation” to proscribe its statements. The general promised to contact General
Antonio Bandeira, the hard—line chief of the federal police, to halt the practice. But
Muricy repeated his warning against “tendentious articles.” Dom Ivo threatened
that if the censorship of the CNBB did not stop, he would divulge the name of the
officer in Rio directly responsible and cause problems for him (“ver a caveira” desse
cidadcio .45

Debate over censorship erupted again in September 1973. General Muricy criti-
cized O Sdo Paulo for its unfavorable commentary on the 1974 federal budget.
“Security ﬁrst, then man,” the headline read. “The Army will receive more money
than the Ministry of Education,” the text stated. “We are overvaluing military
spending to the detriment of social outlays.”47 General Muricy argued that funds
for the military went not only for arms, but for developing Brazil economically. The
O Séio Paulo piece should be reconsidered, he added. Dom Lucas revealed that he
had disapproved of the article and had told the author so. Dom Lucas followed up
this timid response, however, with a protest against the restrictions on 0 S630 Paulo

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The Struggle Against Abuses

as well as on the commercial 0 Estado de Sdo Paulo, prohibited from printing con-
troversial items on the Church. He asked General Muricy to intercede with General
Bandeira on behalf of the Church or to arrange a meeting.“

Major Lee defended the regime. He told the bishops that they should criticize
the harsher censorship of the Soviet Union, which permitted no negative news
about that country; in Brazil the censors had actually permitted the publication of
criticisms such as those leveled by O Sdo Paulo. Lee further reminded the Grupo
Religioso that political censorship at times beneﬁted the Church. He cited the
example of a Recife Catholic who wrote a letter to the press reproaching the local
clergy for refusing to bury the man’s dead father. The censors kept the letter out of
the papers to “preserve the image of the Church.” Dom Lucas and Dom Fernando
Gomes disagreed and afﬁrmed that the letter should have appeared so that Dom
Hélder could have acted on the matter. Lee noted that the archbishop already had
a copy.49

The military’s heavy-handed approach against 0 Scio Paulo extended to the arch-
diocese’s Radio 9 de Julho, named in commemoration of Sao Paulo state’s unsuc-
cessful 1932 rebellion against the central government. In 1973 the bureaucracy in
Brasilia had practically approved a standard renewal of the station’s license for ten
years (Dom Amaury interview). On October 3, 1973, the day before Dom Paulo’s
third anniversary as archbishop, President Médici ordered the station closed, how-
ever. Broadcasting since 1955, the Radio 9 de Iulho had the second-most-powerﬁil
transmitter of Brazil’s Catholic radio stations. Its signiﬁcance was magniﬁed by the
fact that most of the other 117 stations had very weak signals and therefore little
geographical coverage. The Church expected Radio 9 de ]ulho’s international short-
wave rights to be cut under the regime’s new rules, but the cancellation of the
domestic frequency came as a complete surprise. Médici’s order offered no expla-
nation. Colonel Hygino Caetano Corsetti, the Minister of Communications, ﬁrst
cited “technical” reasons and then made the absurd accusation that the station,
approved by government regulations, had been transmitting “clandestinely.” A
clearer answer came from congressman Clovis Stenzel, a nemesis of the Church. He
cited “political motives” caused by the station’s broadcast of criticisms against the
government instead of shows for “the salvation of souls.”5° Protests from loyal lis-
teners, including ads published in 0 S570 Paulo, were useless. Dom Paulo had to sell
the station’s equipment in order to pay severance beneﬁts to the employees who
had lost their jobs (Dom Amaury interview). This incident further harmed rela-
tions between the government and the Vatican.“

At the Bipartite meeting on November 5, 1973, the station’s last day of opera-

183

The Struggle Against Abuses

tion, Dom Lucas protested. Dom Aloisio added that rumors circulated about a
potential closing of his archdiocesan station in Fortaleza. Dom Ivo and Dom Lucas
both reminded the Situacao that Catholic broadcasters helped foster Brazil’s
national integration.” Later, in a letter to the Sao Paulo faithful, Dom Lucas
scathingly attacked the regime’s reasoning. He recalled that Radio 9 de Julho had
aired a number of government programs, including free advertising for the armed
forces’ recruitment campaign, propaganda spots written by Médici’s public rela-
tions ofﬁce, and the officially produced “Voice of Brazil.”53

The Church insisted but got no official accounting of the closing. The regime
had clearly aimed to punish the archdiocese for Dom Paulo’s outspokenness. Yet
the Grupo da Situacﬁo was more ﬂexible and actually hoped to turn the episode
into further advantage for the government. Meeting privately the morning of their
May 1974 encounter with bishops, the Situacﬁo learned from General Muricy that
he was trying to obtain permission for the archdiocese to open another radio sta-
tion. The other members of the Situacﬁo agreed, but with the proviso that the sta-
tion’s power be limited. They reasoned that such a solution could tip the upcoming
CNBB elections in favor of “more conservative” candidates.“ If achieved, this out-
come could cause the bishops’ conference to return to the policy of acquiescence of
the period from 1964 to 1968. Progressives such as Dom Ivo would lose their plat-
form for denouncing the regime, thus muting the “voice of the voiceless.”

Muricy, however, was unsuccessful. The archdiocese of Sao Paulo remained
without a radio station throughout the remainder of the dictatorship. Three
months later, the Bipartite held its last meeting. With the worst of the repression
over, the opposition began to gain strength. Ultimately, in 1978 the government lift-
ed censorship, giving rise to a plethora of publications by the opposition and newly
restored freedom for O Sdo Paula and other newspapers.

Conclusion

The Bipartite’s struggle over human rights and censorship complemented the
larger public struggles between Church and state. While fear and antisubversive
warfare plagued Brazil from 1970 to 1974, the Church increasingly raised its voice
against abuses. Because repression and censorship often muffled that voice, it
remained for the Grupo Religioso to stand up to the military behind the scenes by
demanding information about political prisoners and victims of torture. With the
hard-liners in power, the Grupo da Situagﬁo did not yield. But the Grupo Religioso
kept up the pressure on the regime. The bishops revealed the generals’ policy of

184

The Struggle Against Abuses

deceit on human rights. One of the most telling phrases of the Situag§o’s post-
meeting reports can be found in its very last entry after the ﬁnal Bipartite
encounter on August 26, 1974: “It has become evident that the intention of the
Grupo Religioso, in this case led by Prof. Candido Mendes, is to persist in the
search for the whereabouts of elements noted as ‘pending cases,’ that is, persons
that they considered to be desaparecidos or fugitives.”55 As one of Candido
Mendes’s collaborators remembered years later, the bishops’ participation at the
Bipartite prevented the military from aﬂirming that it had no knowledge of human
rights violations (Bandeira 1994:77). As Candido Mendes himself recalled, the cir-
culation of information about abuses caused an increased “awareness” about
human rights. The accumulation of denunciations by the Grupo Religioso and
other Church groups helped demonstrate that violence had reached its “saturation
point,” causing Geisel to react against it.“ Divisive for the military, the autonomy
of the security forces helped provoke Geisel to start political liberalization. The
Grupo Religioso both conﬁrmed and reinforced the Church’s commitment to
human rights, which would become a cornerstone of the return to civilian rule over
the next ten years.

As the military correctly perceived, human rights were a profoundly political
question. Both sides were biased. The Church, however, faced limits to the fre-
quency and manner of its protests. Again and again the Situacao tried to dampen
criticisms of all forms, whether symbols, voices, or the printed word. The Church
selected its cases well, capitalizing on the security forces’ blundered choices of vic-
tims and implausible explanations of jailings, disappearances, and deaths. General
Muricy demonstrated some attempts at goodwill. But just as the Church was con-
strained, so was the general. If his commission gave concessions or appeared to be
too friendly to the Church, the hard line could easily justify its abolition.

185

Timeline of Important Events

March 31—April 1, 1964. Led by General Muricy, Army troops invade Rio de
Janeiro to depose President Joﬁo Goulart.

April 15, 1964. Castello Branco becomes president.

March 1966. General Muricy and Dom Hélder end their thirty-year friend-
ship.

March 15, 1967. Costa e Silva becomes president.

November 1967. Dom Waldyr enters into conﬂict with 1st AIB after soldiers
enter his home and detain priests and others.

1968. Medellin document.

March 1968. Student Edson Luis shot by a policeman in Rio de Janeiro.
Protests in major cities.

December 13, 1968. Military hard-liners force President Costa e Silva to
issue AI-5.

May 1969. Right-wing terrorists murder Father Henrique Pereira Neto, an
assistant to Dom Hélder Camara.

July 1969. Operacao Bandeirantes created in S50 Paulo to hunt down sub-
versives.

August 1969. Costa e Silva suffers a stroke and is replaced by a military
junta.

September 4, 1969. Kidnapping of U.S. ambassador by revolutionaries.

October 30, 1969. Médici is sworn in as Costa e Silva’s replacement.

November 4, 1969. Death of ALN leader Carlos Marighella and imprison-
ment of Dominicans.

August—October 1970. Security forces attack JOC, invade IBRADES, and
detain Dom Aloisio, the CNBB secretary general.

November 3, 1970. First Bipartite meeting. Candido Mendes proposes
“decompression”‘in Church-state relations and outlines possibilities
for collaboration.

Chapter 9 Death in Barra Mansa

186

The Admission and Punishment of Torture

e Bipartite and other channels of secret dialogue played
a signiﬁcant role in denouncing one of the most horriﬁc
incidents of the regime and, indeed, in the entire history
of the Brazilian armed forces—the death by torture of

 

four soldiers in the barracks at Barra Mansa. Ostensibly
probing into illegal drug usage, in January 1972, intelligence ofﬁcers
at the First Armored Infantry Battalion (1st AIB) detained privates
Geomar Ribeiro da Silva, Juarez Mongao Virote, Roberto Vicente da
Silva, and Wanderley de Oliveira. All four died from a variety of tor-
ments. The killers punched their nineteen-year-old victims with
gloved hands, whipped them with belts and wires, pierced their
ﬁngernails, burned their ﬁngers, beat them with an iron pipe and a
palmatéria (a large, perforated spatula once used to punish slaves
and students), applied electric shocks, and used a vise to crush the
soldiers’ feet and the heads of Vicente and Geomar. To cover up the
crime they staged an escape scene, claiming that Wanderley and
Moncao had deserted after killing the other two men. In reality, the
criminals had decapitated Wanderley’s body and thrown it into a
dam; they dumped and burned Monc§o’s body miles away in the
state of S50 Paulo. Eleven other soldiers were also tortured} A vigor-
ous Army investigation of the atrocities led to the court-martial of
eight soldiers, the conviction of two police ofﬁcers, and the forced
retirement of the battalion commander.

This chapter examines the history of abuses in the Barra Mansa
battalion and the denunciations of the local bishop, Dom Waldyr
Calheiros de Novaes. Violence and torture within the armed forces
were not unique to this period (see Smallman 1997). Because torture

Geomar Ribeiro da Silva was crushed to death by For weeks a military cover-up prevented Pedro
his superiors. Paulo Virote from learning about the death of
his son fuarez Mongdo Virote (pictured here).

First accused of using mari-
juana, Private Roberto
Vicente da Silva was later
buried with ﬁill military
honors. He lived long
enough to tell Dom Waldyr
and Colonel Sampaio of the
horrors of torture in the
barracks. Like the other vic-
tims, he was poor; his
mother, Maria Aparecida
defesus Silva, washed

clothes for a living.

187

Death in Barra Mansa

by the security forces was so widespread during the Médici years, however, this
incident provides special insight on how the security forces’ torture of subversives
began to undermine the military institution. The presentation of Dom Waldyr’s
accusations at the Bipartite prevented a cover-up of the deaths and helped force
the military to investigate, reveal, and punish the practice of torture—the only time
it did so during the twenty-one years of its rule. The chapter will close with a dis-
cussion of the signiﬁcance of the Barra Mansa episode——an episode that is
unknown to most Brazilians and largely absent from the historiography of the
regime?

Torture in the Barracks

The 1st AIB was located near Volta Redonda, the site of the large National Steel
Company about 130 kilometers from Rio de Janeiro. Like military units across
Brazil at this time, the 1st AIB hunted Communists and other alleged subversives.
This mission, the economic importance of the Barra Mansa—Volta Redonda region,
and the area’s relatively small population gave the battalion prestige and immense
power in local affairs. In 1969, for example, Barra Mansa councilmen visited the
barracks and lunched with the commander?’ Local residents were invited to parties
at the installation, and the military assumed a kind of police power—mediating
local quarrels, collecting promissory notes, and disconnecting electricity on delin-
quent accounts (Pedro Virote interview). On one occasion, the battalion assumed
the unusual responsibility of jailing an individual accused of drug trafﬁcking/4 As
one person recalled, the Army was “the law” in Barra Mansa and Volta Redonda
(Geralsélia interview). In addition, involvement of soldiers in contraband came to
light during the torture investigation (Sampaio interview). Their activities formed
part of a larger pattern in which repressive units used their national security man-
date to engage in highly proﬁtable illegal activities. In Rio de Janeiro, for instance,
the First Army uncovered a massive operation of contraband and robbery involv-
ing DOI-CODI members, military police, maritime police, customs officials, and
ciVilians.5

By 1972, Church—Army tensions and suspicions of torture were old themes at the
1st AIB. Dom Waldyr ﬁrst entered into conﬂict with its officers in 1967 after soldiers
entered his home and detained priests and members of a Church group on charges
of subversion. The investigation was headed by Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone
Pernasetti Teixeira. Dom Waldyr criticized the commander for concentrating on
subversion while the regime’s policies kept Volta Redonda salaries and working

188

Death in Barre: Mcmsa

The author standing at the entrance to the 1st AIB, where “discipline” became torture.

conditions inadequate. In early 1969 Dom Waldyr declared himself a prisoner at
the 1st AIB in protest against the jailing of two teachers. Later he and sixteen priests
denounced the practice of torture at the battalion. The Army launched an investi-
gation, but military judge Helmo de Azevedo Sussekind, a civilian, dismissed the
case for lack of evidence. In retaliation against Dom Waldyr, the Army started the
ﬁrst of several inquests designed to intimidate him and his clergy. On one occasion
Dom Waldyr was interrogated for twenty-ﬁve hours. Judge Sussekind denied a
request from the military’s own prosecutor to dismiss the ﬁrst of these inquests and
praised the 1st AIB’s restraint in avoiding a Brazilian “Belfast.” In November 1970
the 1st AIB struck again, arresting some thirty Jocistas, including two priests, in
connection with the assault on ]OC and IBRADES in Rio de Janeiro. Dom Waldyr

189

Death in Barra Mansa

ofﬁcially reported the torture of several of these individuals to nuncio Dom
Mozzoni in Rio de Janeiro. Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone denied the accusations.“
These clashes galvanized national episcopal support for Dom Waldyr and raised
the political stakes in Volta Redonda, but they also made Dom Waldyr one of the
bishops most hated by the military, alongside Dom Hélder and Dom Paulo. In 1976
the kidnappers and torturers of Nova Iguacu Bishop Dom Adriano Hypolito
informed him that their next victim would be Dom Waldyr. Dom Waldyr subse-
quently received frequent threats from right-wing terrorists.7 ,

In December 1971, the 1st AIB’s intelligence and internal security section, the S2,
began an inquiry into the battalion’s own barracks. According to the Army’s pub-
lic statement on the Barra Mansa deaths, the 82 suspected a group of draftees of
using and trafficking in marijuana?’ The sentence against the torturers, all mem-
bers of the S2, did not question the unit’s motives,9 probably because the investi-
gating ofﬁcer’s instructions led him to focus exclusively on the accusations of tor-
ture, not on the activities of the victims (Sampaio interview). At least two of the
victims had conﬁded to their families that unusual activities were occurring in the
barracks. For instance, Private Geomar told his parents that he had witnessed col-
leagues kill a man while on patrol early one morning in Volta Redonda. The driver
of the patrol truck, Geomar recounted the scene in which the other soldiers
dragged the victim into the vehicle and beat him. They attacked this man, a slum-
dweller, because he was painting an advertisement for a local store—apparently
mistaken for a subversive political slogan—on a hillside. Others in the barracks
warned Geomar, who had a reputation for being a big man but “soft” of heart, to
stop acting “cowardly” and to forget the incident.” Geomar also knew about con-
traband drugs, arms, and whiskey (Geralsélia and Evangelina interviews). At about
this time, the 1st AIB once again undertook the unusual responsibility of housing a
civilian criminal suspect, Expedito Botelho, identiﬁed as a “traﬂicker in marijua-
na.” The local judge requested the transfer ostensibly because Botelho had been
mistreated by the police, but this reason is difficult to believe given the already bad
reputation for violence at the 1st AIB and the subsequent wave of torture. At the
end of December 1971, the S2 began arresting and beating soldiers in the alleged
marijuana investigation.“ Geomar was detained on New Year’s Eve 1971, kept
incommunicado, and forced to write notes to his mother stating that he was in no
danger. She saw him only brieﬂy on January 1, 1972, and already noticed marks on
his arms (Evangelina interview). When she took food for her son, the soldiers stole
it and ate it as she watched. Geomar’s twenty-one-year-old sister Geralsélia visited
the barracks daily in an attempt to see him, but only once did she have success, on

190

Death in Barre: Mansa

January 2 (Geralsélia interview). Geomar vowed that he had not smoked marijua-
na and would refuse to confess to a crime he had not committed.”

Eleven days later, Geomar’s family was suddenly called to the barracks to claim
their sons body. Although signs of torture covered his body-bruises, broken
teeth, burned ﬁngers, damaged ﬁngernails, exposed bones, detached skin, cigarette
burns on the face, parts of the body smashed by the vise, the feet and head crushed
by the Vise—the coroner’s report listed heart, liver, and kidney problems as the
cause of death. Geomar’s father asked for another report, but the battalion com-
mander refused.”

A climate of fear and anger overtook Volta Redonda as news of Geomar’s death
quickly spread. When Dom Waldyr visited Geomar’s family, the father reported
that soldiers had threatened him with the loss of his job at the National Steel
Company if he spoke to the bishop. The next day they returned to intimidate the
family again. Other families began to fear the same deadly outcome for their
detained sons (Dom Waldyr interview). The incident shocked the families even
more because in the small—town milieu of Volta Redonda, soldiers’ families were
practically neighbors. For example, S2 leader Captain Délgio Miranda Niebus lived
near Private Mong§o’s family, and the two men frequently drove together to the
barracks. Moncao had proudly entered the service, and his mother doted on his
sharp-looking uniform (Eﬁgénia Virote interview). Vicente’s mother washed cloth-
ing for the Niebus family, and his sister worked there as a nanny (Maria Aparecida
interview). The murders broke local trust in the military as an institution.
Geomar’s father tore the Brazilian ﬂag from Geomar’s casket and threw it into a
gully, and later Monc'ao’s uncle, a Methodist pastor, had the national anthem omit-
ted from his nephew’s funeral. In the packed church Dom Waldyr refused to stand
alongside military ofﬁcers (Eﬁgénia Virote interview).

On January 14, 1972, the day of Geomar’s burial, Private Vicente’s family was
informed that he had been transferred to the Central Army Hospital in Rio de
Janeiro. This news came only two days after they had learned of his conﬁnement at
the 1st AIB. With difﬁculty Vicente’s relatives gained access to his room. Dom
Waldyr also visited him. Vicente’s head and much of his body were wrapped in
gauze. He had lost much of his skin because of burnings and electric shocks.“ As
the military inquest later revealed, the S2 torturers had also put Vicente’s head in
the vise.15 Before he died on January 24, 1972, Vicente revealed details of the atroc-
ities (Geralsélia interview). In military eyes, Vicente was no longer a suspected mar-
ijuana smoker but now a victim of violence. He was buried with full military hon-
ors, including a twenty-one-gun salute and the covering of his body with the

191

Death in Barra Mansa

Brazilian ﬂag. Meanwhile, the two other victims, Mongao and Wanderley, were
considered deserters by the Army. As part of the cover-up, the 1st AIB broadcast
radio reports and published announcements calling for the return of the two sol-
diers.

Dom Wa|dyr’s Denunciations

There was little hope of justice for the victim’s families. They were all of humble
origin. Vicente’s, for example, lived in a poor area on the outskirts of Volta
Redonda. He and his family were also black—a huge disadvantage in Brazil. The cli-
mate of repression and military chauvinism made it unlikely that the working-class
relatives of mere draftees would see their legal rights respected.

Dom Waldyr anguished over whether to take on the military again. He went to
a chapel and prayed. He thought about the Church’s offer of a promotion to arch-
bishop of Teresina, Piaui. The military wanted him out of Barra Mansa. If he
accepted, he would rid both the Church and the military of a prickly situation. But
he knew that departing would eliminate the chance of justice for the soldiers’ fam-
ilies.15

Dom Waldyr was determined not to let yet another violation of human rights in
the Barra Mansa barracks be forgotten. He now had enough evidence to make a
strong case: two brutalized soldiers and indignant members of the community. On
January 16, 1972, Dom Waldyr visited the 1st AIB commander, Colonel Arioswaldo
Tavares Gomes da Silva. During the Costa e Silva administration Colonel Arios-
waldo had close ties to the presidency because of his friendship with ﬁrst lady Dona
Iolanda (Sampaio interview). He was on vacation during the atrocities in his bar-
racks, having turned over command to Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone. Rosary in
hand, Colonel Arioswaldo insisted desperately on the theory of men ﬂeeing after
attacking their fellow soldiers, but he accepted Dom Waldyr’s version after the
bishop discredited the commander’s story and accused him of lying." During this
meeting Colonel Arioswaldo informed Dom Waldyr that the Army had officially set
up an investigation into the incident.” However, this inquest was led by Lieutenant
Colonel Gladstone, the bishop’s old nemesis and a participant in the killings.

To foil the cover-up, Dom Waldyr tried other avenues of protest. Deeply
angered, Geomar’s sister Geralsélia was determined to obtain justice. Dom Waldyr
took her to a private meeting with Dom Mozzoni at the nunciature in Rio and also
put her in touch with Sobral Pinto, the devout human rights lawyer.” The cautious
Dom Mozzoni contacted the government. He feared pushing the military too hard

192

Death in Barra Mansa

Dom Waldyr
Calheiros de
Novaes and others
in his diocese expe-
rienced constant
harassment by the
1st AIB. He put an
end to the abuses
by denouncing to
the Bipartite the
deaths of the four
Barra Mansa pri-
Vates.

and tried to dissuade Dom Waldyr from pressing ahead with the case (Dom Waldyr
interview). The nuncio believed the bishop could be “used” for political purposes.
Moreover, Dom Mozzoni had learned that the case would probably go to the gov-
ernment’s National Council for the Rights of Man, which he believed to be the cor-
rect venue.” This commission was a sham, however (see chapter 8). Nevertheless,
Dom Waldyr’s contact with the nuncio opened a channel of protest to the highest
levels of the government and created pressure for a more serious investigation of
the crimes.

With evidence against the S2 mounting, on January 21, 1972, General Walter
Pires de Carvalho e Albuquerque closed down Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone’s
cover-up investigation and ordered a new inquest under Colonel Mario Orlando

193

Death in Barra Mansa

Ribeiro Sampaio. Commander of the Armored Infantry Division, General Pires
headed General Muricy’s staff during the coup and became Army Minister during
the Figueiredo administration. Pires’s superior, First Army head General Silvio
Frota, also followed the case assiduously, telephoning Sampaio nightly.“ A hard-
liner, Frota was Army Minister under Geisel until forced out in 1977. Sampaio later
became a member of the Bipartite (see chapter 5). At the request of General
Golbery, he had helped found the SNI in 1964 and spent a large part of his career
in intelligence, becoming head of the CIE as a general in the early 1980s. He ulti-
mately obtained four-star status. In 1972, he commanded the mechanized cavalry
regiment headquartered in Rio de Janeiro. As one of his ﬁrst actions Sampaio visit-
ed Private Vicente the day before he died and saw unmistakable signs of torture
(Sampaio interview).

At this point, however, the Barra Mansa deaths were still an internal Army mat-
ter, known to only a few members of the leadership. The possibility of a cover-up
still existed. Dom Waldyr kept pressing for an explanation. Dissatisﬁed with the
nuncio’s response, on January 24, 1972, he took Geomar’s sister and a written
report of the incident to the CNBB. The bishop and Geralsélia spoke with Dom Ivo.
The Bipartite was to meet later that day, and Dom Ivo invited Dom Waldyr to give
a report about Barra Mansa to the commission. Dom Waldyr declined. He feared
that his acrimonious relationship with 1st AIB ofﬁcers would compromise his testi-
mony. Instead of Dom Waldyr, Dom Ivo gave the report. His presentation had the
added advantage of coming from a leader of the CNBB and a member of the Grupo
Religioso. General Muricy doubted the denunciation, especially because it had
originated with the mistrusted Dom Waldyr. But Dom Ivo challenged Muricy to
prove Dom Waldyr wrong (Dom Waldyr interview)” At this point Colonel
Sampaio’s investigation was still in the dark; on January 30, for instance, Private
Monc§o’s father still did not know the whereabouts of his supposedly deserter son
and traveled to Rio de Janeiro to see if he might ﬁnd him at the morgue.”

On February 1, 1972, General Muricy traveled to Brasilia to meet with President
Médici. The press reported that they discussed the mundane matter of reorganiz-
ing the ADESG.24 The real purpose was to discuss the crisis emerging in Barra
Mansa. Within days Dom Mozzoni met with Medici (Dom Waldyr interview). On
February 4, the nuncio then wrote Dom Waldyr that “severe measures” were now
being taken.25 Back in Rio, Muricy reversed his earlier skepticism and admitted to
Dom Ivo that the atrocities at Barra Mansa were indeed true. For the ﬁrst time in
its history the Army would publish a note critical of itself, Muricy added (Dom
Waldyr interview).

194

Death in Barra Mansa

On February 6, 1972, Brazil’s major newspapers printed on their inside pages a
press release from the Army Public Relations Center. In it the Army admitted that

the (unnamed) ofﬁcers looking into drug trafﬁcking in the Barra Mansa barracks
had

acted in a reprehensible manner, causing the death of the soldiers. . . . Completely con-
trary to the laws and determinations in force in the Army, such procedure is totally
repudiated by the institution and repulses its members. Maximum rigor has been
determined for the investigation, for facts of this nature, resulting from individual per-
version, will never receive the complaisance of the Army.”

The Army had made an extraordinary admission of the existence of torture and
abuse in its ranks precisely at the moment that it sought to deny the avalanche of
accusations, at home and abroad, of human rights violations against the left.
Through the Bipartite Dom Waldyr had forced the regime’s hand, practically elim-
inated any further possibility of a cover-up, and elevated the incident from a local,
internal military affair to one scrutinized by the top Army leadership and the press.
In a letter to Minister Orlando Geisel he praised the generals for removing any hint
of Army complicity in the deaths.”

The Army Investigates

Colonel Sampaio’s investigation became one of the longest and most difﬁcult
inquests in nearly two centuries of Brazilian military justice. An inquest normally
took less than a month, but in this instance he requested two postponements. He
ﬁled a ﬁnal report after 108 days of investigation. During the early stages of the
inquest the suspected S2 torturers tried to intimidate Sampaio, his assistants, and
1st AIB soldiers called as witnesses. He received telephone threats against his fami-
ly. To avoid these pressures, the colonel took the witnesses to his own barracks in
Rio, where he guaranteed their safety until the arrest of the accused ofﬁcers. The
colonel received the assistance of military prosecutor José Manes Leitﬁo, known for
his prosecution of suspected subversives. Sampaio kept the 1st AIB men and his
own troops abreast of the case, and he used it to illustrate the wrongness of torture.
The bodies of Privates Wanderley and Mongao were soon discovered, providing
crucial evidence against the S2. Colonel Sampaio listened to the aggrieved father of
Wanderley note the irony of having given a son to serve his country and receiving
a mutilated corpse in return (Sampaio interview).28 Although as brutal as any other
intelligence unit (with ﬁfteen victims and four dead in only nineteen days), the S2
torturers lacked the professionalism of the Rio de Janeiro and S50 Paulo security

195

Timeline of Important Events

January 1972. Murder by torture of four soldiers at 1st AIB in Barra Mansa.

August 1972. Bipartite resolves Church-state crisis over commemoration of independence
sesquicentennial.

1972-1973. Military and police repression in Sao Félix do Araguaia. Arrest of Dorn Pedro
Casaldaliga and pastoral agents.

1973. CNBB commemorates twenty-ﬁve years since U.N. Universal Declaration of Human
Rights.

January 1973. Barra Mansa torturers found guilty.

March 16-17, 1973. Alexandre Vannucchi Leme tortured to death in the Sao Paulo DOI-
CODI.

March 30, 1973. Three thousand people attend a memorial mass for Alexandre Vannucchi
Leme at the cathedral in downtown Sao Paulo.

May—August 1973. Bishops protest death of Alexandre Vannucchi Leme at Bipartite.
August 1973. Dom Fernando Gomes tells Bipartite that civilians are not yet ready to rule.
October 1973. Médici orders closing of Radio 9 de Julho.

March 15, 1974. Ernesto Geisel takes office and begins distensﬁo.

August 26, 1974. Last Bipartite meeting.

October 1975. Death of Vladimir Herzog.

1976. Murder of Father Burnier and kidnapping of Dom Adriano Hypolito.

March 15, 1979. Figueiredo becomes president.

March 15, 1985. Brazil returns to civilian rule after twenty—one years of military dictator-
ship.

Death in Barra Mansa

agents, who left fewer marks on their victims, kept them alive longer, and more
efﬁciently “disappeared” the dead. Sampaio quickly arrested the primary suspects:
S2 head Niebus, reserve Lieutenant Paulo Reynaud Miranda da Silva, and
Sergeants Ivan Etel de Oliveira, Rubens Martins de Souza, and Sideni Guedes.
Corporals José Augusto Cruz and Celso Gomes de Freitas Filho soon joined them.
Colonel Sampaio also found evidence of trafficking in contraband at the 1st AIB
(Sampaio interview).29 Sampaio completed the inquest on May 8, 1972.

Horriﬁed by the violence, General Frota and other members of the military hier-
archy supported the subsequent court-martial proceedings. Judge Sussekind and
four colonels formed a “special council” or jury to hear the evidence against the
fourteen men charged in the case. Initially the jury lottery had resulted in the selec-
tion of three Army physicians, but they refused to take part because they found the
crimes too gruesome (Sussekind interview).3° The proceedings were cloaked in
secrecy because of censorship, military justice regulations, and the insistence of the
defense lawyers. Overriding the judge and approving a motion by Niebus’s attor-
ney, the four colonels also voted to hold the actual trial in secret. The motion came
from Augusto Sussekind de Moraes Régo, the judge’s cousin and a defender of
political prisoners.”

Two dozen people testiﬁed in the pretrial proceedings, including survivors of
the torture and eyewitnesses to the abuses against the dead men. Testimony
revealed that Captain Niebus had ordered the battalion carpenter to make two
palmatérias. In order to escape further torture the imprisoned soldiers confessed to
drug usage and named fellow draftees. The battalion medic did not treat any of the
victims, in part because Niebus barred him from doing so. The S2 threatened other
1st AIB members who had seen the victims or wanted to help them. Niebus and
Lieutenant Miranda accused each other of cutting up Private Wanderley’s body;
each claimed he had merely held up a lamp to illuminate the task. Niebus attempt-
ed an insanity defense but was found ﬁt by examiners to face judgment. On July 10,
1972, Sussekind, the colonels, and the lawyers examined the Barra Mansa barracks.
In the torture chamber known as the “archive” they viewed the palmatéria, metal
pipes, the battery for giving shocks, and other instruments.”

At the trial, attorney Moraes Régo argued that Captain Niebus and his men
were engaged in a “Holy War” in which they were simply following the orders of
their superiors. “These men were trained for war. They are not common men. Their
specialty is to confront revolutionary warfare,” Moraes Régo stated. Referring to
the allegations of drug trafficking, Moraes Régo pointed out that Chinese leader
Mao Tse Tung had ended drug usage by ordering that accused users be summarily

196

Death in Barra Mansa

Colonel Mario Riheiro Orlando Sampaio (center) reviewing his soldiers. Despite threats to his

family, Sampaio investigated the Barra Mansa torturers. He later joined the Bipartite.

decapitated in public. The lawyer then likened Niebus to Lieutenant William L.
Calley, the U.S. ofﬁcer found responsible for an Army unit’s massacre of unarmed
civilians at the Vietnamese village of My Lai in 1971. Moraes Régo concluded about
the S2 men that “either they are all responsible, or no one is.” The defense lawyers
further argued that the deaths were unintentional.”

The overwhelming evidence led to the defendants’ conviction on January 22,
1973. To the noisy applause of victims’ relatives allowed into the courtroom on the
ﬁnal day, Niebus received a sentence of eighty-four years for homicide and lost his
ofﬁcer’s commission. Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone, who had ordered Niebus and
Miranda to mutilate and hide the bodies of Wanderley and Mongao, was also con-
victed along with six other ofﬁcers and two civilian policemen. Lieutenant Miranda
received seventy-seven years, Sergeants Souza and Oliveira and Corporal Cruz
sixty-two years, and Sergeant Guedes and Corporal Freitas Filho ﬁfty-eight years.
The council further recommended further prosecution of Gladstone, a medic, a
nurse, Colonel Arioswaldo, and another officer for additional crimes. In particular,
the court found “vehement indications” that Arioswaldo had learned of the crimes
from Niebus and had “deliberately” avoided taking any action.34 The sentences

197

Death in Barra Mansa

were among the highest in Brazilian military history, though they were reduced on
appeal. Niebus and others served prison terms, and Arioswaldo was forced to retire
early.

The exemplary convictions countered the regime’s poor image on human rights.
According to Judge Sussekind, the crimes were “unique” in the history of Brazilian
military justice and caused “negative repercussions” for the Army and a “demo-
cratic society.” Thus they had received the “unanimous” abhorrence of the Army’s
highest commanders.” Despite the secrecy of the proceedings, the regime allowed
the press to publish news of the convictions and, as a result, reaped favorable edi-
torial comments. The O Estado de S630 Paula and the form] do Brasil, for instance,
echoed Sussekind, stating that the judgment demonstrated Army opposition to
torture and vigorous punishment of those who practiced it.“

Conduﬁon

Notwithstanding the brave work of Colonel Sampaio and the court, the Barra
Mansa episode was an isolated, narrowly investigated, almost surreal exception to
the rule of impunity during the Médici years. The prosecution was indeed vigorous,
but it was the only trial and conviction of torturers between 1964 and the announce-
ment of the 1979 amnesty (which blocked prosecution of human rights viola-
tions).37 The Army drew no connection whatsoever with the earlier denunciations
of torture made by Dom Waldyr. Moreover, at least one and probably several of the
convicted men had participated in previous abuses at Barra Mansa.” Nobody
asked how, when, or why the “archive” was built and on whose orders. Nobody
examined the origins and consequences of torture in the Army. Nobody appeared
interested in weaving the lessons of the incident into military ethics and history.”

In addition, the Army did not investigate the numerous other allegations of tor-
ture made by the Church and human rights activists around Brazil. The Army did
not question the original assumption of drug trafﬁcking as the motive for the tor-
ture, even though at least two of the families believed their sons had died because
they knew too much about illicit activities in the barracks. Aside from the insistent
Geralsélia, no relatives of the dead or tortured men were called to testify or take
part in the investigation. They received partial justice. Only two families collected
their sons’ pensions, and only one obtained a paltry compensation judgment a
decade later (Melo 1997b).

While the defenses appeal to national security failed as an excuse for the crimes,
it was clear that the S2’s role in this area had given it immense power—to the point

198

Death in Barra Mansa

where its members bordered on insubordination.“ As the trial ended, Lieutenant
Miranda publicly threatened revenge against Geralsélia for her testimony
(Geralsélia interview). With reduced sentences, after a few years in jail the tortur-
ers went free, and the additional allegations against Colonel Arioswaldo and others
were dropped. Niebus, in fact, started a job at the Rio de janeiro public telephone
company in 1981. Documentation from the DOPS archives reveals that the phone
company, the Ministry of Communications, and the Ministry of Mines and Energy
had knowledge of his conviction.“ The regime’s security forces protected their tor-
turer colleagues.

In the ﬁnal analysis, the military punished Niebus and the others because the
torture practiced against the regime’s enemies had now turned its ugly face against
the Army itself, with the incident providing irrefutable, horrible evidence that
could not be ignored by the hierarchy. The Army was ofﬁcially against torture.
When it came to violations of human rights against its political enemies, however,
it simply looked the other way.“ (In 1975 the Army covered up the infamous death
by torture of journalist Vladimir Herzog, but in 1995 former President Geisel
afﬁrmed that it was “murder” [Couto 1998:181—82].) On the same page as the Barra
Mansa convictions O Estado de S670 Paulo published the news of the “suicide” by
hanging of revolutionary Anatalia de Souza Alves de Melo, who in reality had been
found burned to death in her cell at the Recife DOPS.“ There was no investigation.

Dom Waldyr’s denunciations through the Bipartite were crucial in bringing the
Barra Mansa incident into the public light and avoiding a cover-up. As Judge
Sussekind observed in retrospect, the Barra Mansa case did not have the “political”
overtones of the inquests involving accusations of subversion (Sussekind inter-
view). The military investigated in a vigorous but highly legalistic and restricted
way, losing the chance to extend the investigation to other intelligence units and to
shut down the torture machine. The left ignored the incident because no one from
its ranks was involved, and it failed to understand the potential for converting the
case into a banner for human rights.“ The Church alone realized the signiﬁcance of
the deaths of four youths who were mere draftees but also symbols of the powerless
masses most often forgotten in the political struggles of Brazilian history.

For the Army, which held immense power at this juncture, winning the war
against both the left and the Church was paramount. The death of yet another
youth debated at the Bipartite revealed the extremes to which the military was will-
ing to go.

199

Chapter 10 Anatomy of a Death

200

 

The Case of Alexandre Vcmnucchi Leme

mid—1973 the Church carried out a months-long protest against
the killing of Alexandre Vannucchi Leme, a twenty-two-year-old
University of Sao Paulo (USP) student who died in jail hours after
his arrest and torture by security agents. One of the most shock-
ing episodes of the Médici years, Leme’s death on March 17, 1973,
led students and Roman Catholic clergymen to defy riot troops and
gather three thousand people to hear Dom Paulo criticize the gov-
ernment at a memorial service. When public and legal protest failed
to force the regime to investigate, the Grupo Religioso pressed the
matter at three consecutive meetings of the Bipartite.

This case is generally forgotten in discussions of military Brazil}
Most writings on the military dictatorship pinpoint a similar
momentous religious protest against the murder by torture of jour-
nalist Vladimir Herzog in 1975 as the opposition’s great awakening in
the ﬁght for human rights and democracy. In the words of fellow
journalist and torture victim Paulo Markun, “The death of Vladimir
Herzog changed Brazil. It provoked the ﬁrst great popular reaction
against torture, arbitrary imprisonment, [and] disrespect for human
rights.” This incident occurred after President Geisel had already
moved to liberalize the regime and restrict the repressive forces. The
Herzog case marked the virtual end of killings in the cells of the secu-
rity forces. Leme’s death came in the midst of the worst repression. It
sparked the ﬁrst large—scale antiregime demonstration of the 1970s
and set a precedent for the Herzog protest. The routine detention of
a student activist escalated into a serious political problem for the
regime and became the most important human rights case debated

Anatomy of a Death

Geology student and ALN militant Alexandre
Vannucchi Leme was tortured to death at the
Sdo Paulo DOI-CODI. Three thousand people
attended a memorial service for Leme, which
launched the Church’s public campaign for
human rights.

at the Bipartite. It marked a turning point of the Médici period as the opposition
began to reassert itself under Church leadership.

This chapter will examine three facets of the episode. The ﬁrst section seeks to
resolve controversial questions about Leme’s political activities and the circum-
stances of his death. While most people at USP and in the Church viewed Leme pri-
marily as a student and doubted the regime’s version of events, the security forces
had nevertheless accurately identiﬁed him as an important ALN militant. When he
died unexpectedly, they resorted to a dual cover-up of their botched torture. The
second section analyzes reactions to the incident and its role in building the oppo-
sition. Protest caused the police and the military to justify their actions and pre-
serve the regime’s image by falsely magnifying Leme’s crimes to present him as a
dangerous terrorist. On the other hand, clerics and students sought to clarify the
death and raised Leme up as a symbol of heroic resistance. The Church walked a
tightrope between the desire for justice and the need to avoid further violence. It
faced high risks in taking up the Leme cause—reprisal by the military for becom-
ing too close to the revolutionary left, the principal enemy of the regime, for
instance. Yet it also gained political strength by ﬁrmly defending human rights. The
third section delves into the debate over the case at the Bipartite, providing a
detailed example of how Church and regime attempted dialogue to resolve their
deepest differences.

201

Anatomy of a Death

From Arrest to Cover-Up: Setting the Record Straight

Leme’s death shook the University of Sao Paulo campus and the Sao Paulo
Church. Considered a model student, he had scored highest on the USP geology
entrance exam. As a popular campus leader, he defended the university system
against government interference and opposed efforts to end free tuition. He helped
organize political street theater and spoke out on national issues, criticizing the
drain on Brazil’s resources through the export of mineral wealth and the construc-
tion of the Transamazon Highway, a symbol of Médici’s economic miracle. Leme
came from a leading Catholic family from the nearby traditional town of Sorocaba.
Three of his aunts were nuns; his uncle Aldo Vannucchi was a prominent priest in
Sorocaba. Father Vannucchi had frequent contact with the clergy of the archdiocese
of S50 Paulo, Brazil’s largest, and knew Dom Paulo. Leme expressed enthusiasm for
Dom Hélder and other progressive bishops?

The government saw Leme as a “terrorist” of the armed branch of the ALN,
active mainly in Sao Paulo. Students and other youths made up most of the recruits
of the ALN, a nationalist offshoot of the Brazilian Communist Party and the major
urban guerrilla threat. The police accused Leme of armed robbery, thefts, and help-
ing to plan the execution of Manoel Henrique de Oliveira, a Portuguese restaura-
teur targeted by the ALN for informing on three militants who were subsequently
killed.4

Similar disagreement existed over Leme’s death. The authorities said a truck hit
Leme as he was ﬂeeing his captors at a busy intersection. The Church asserted he
was murdered by torture. Students, lawyers for the family, and clergymen pointed
out faults in the police version and obtained decisive evidence of death by torture.
How they did so is told below. Suffice it to say here that the police version immedi-
ately raised suspicions. It was not the first time nor the last that they used stories of
accidents, suicide, or gunﬁghts to explain the death of political prisoners. The best
example was Herzog’s clumsily forged hanging after a few hours in jail.
Furthermore, the police had prevented examination of Leme’s body for signs of
abuse by quickly burying it in a pauper’s cemetery and covering it with lime to
speed its decomposition (Comissao de Familiares 1996:174). The security forces
used this cemetery, located on the outskirts in Perus, to hide the bodies of other
political prisoners.5 After days of frantic searching for his son at police stations, the
army, and the morgue, José de Oliveira Leme learned of Alexandre’s interment
from detective Fleury, the notorious torturer (Jose Leme interview).5 Egle Maria

202

Anatomy of a Death

Vannucchi Leme, Alexandre’s mother, went to Perus, where a grounds keeper
showed her the plot.

The police evidence provides some clues about unexplained aspects of Leme’s
death. As in many cases, the investigators relied heavily on depositions taken under
torture and in the absence of legal counsel. Mainly USP students and friends of
Leme, these witnesses later retracted their statements before a military tribunal,
where lawyers were present. Police lies and abuse do not preclude all of their evi-
dence, however (Gorender 1998:261). A major question involves Leme’s participa-
tion in the ALN. According to the police, Leme was the ALN’s “brain” at USP. He
politicalized students, distributed newspapers, and recruited sympathizers. Leme
hailed Church denunciations of regime abuses and allegedly contacted “priests
ready for engagement in the ALN.”7

Leme was indeed an ALN political coordinator. As the police claimed, he had
close contact with Ronaldo Queiroz, a geology student who went into the ALN
guerrilla underground. Mainly from the interior, most geology students were from
a lower social station than other USP students. They were willing to dirty them-
selves on ﬁeld trips and to live in rugged conditions. They also tended to be more
politically outspoken because of their study of problems related to the exploitation
of Brazil’s natural resources. Queiroz praised Leme’s political skills, and Leme even-
tually took over Queiroz’s spot on the USP student council.8

In mid—1972 Leme had a key meeting with a top leader of the armed wing, Carlos
Eugenio Sarmento Coelho da Paz, a tough, Army-trained gunman who eluded the
security forces. Leme and Paz discussed ALN political strategy as they sat in a get-
away car. Leme was a crucial tie to the outside world for the increasingly isolated
revolutionaries. After the ALN’s devastating defeats, Paz looked to him to raise
badly needed student recruits, and membership rose. Leme reported to Paz that
disgust with the regime was growing on campus and in the Church. Marighella had
included the Church in his plan to unite a variety of social groups in the ﬁght for
national liberation against the military and U.S. imperialism. With its nationwide
presence the Church could provide an excellent support network. After the
Dominican debacle, the ALN counted on Leme to renew ties to Catholic progres-
sives.9

Leme perceived the need to break the increasing isolation of the student move-
ment and the decimated resistance by forging links with other movements, com-
munities, and the Church. As part of this plan, he and others distributed anti-
regime pamphlets at churches in poor neighborhoods (Adriano Diogo and Arlete

203

Anatomy of a Death

Diogo interviews). Although Leme supported the ALN through legal activities, he
endorsed armed struggle and saw it as consistent with his deep beliefs about
Christian liberation (Arlete Diogo interview). His death dealt a serious blow to the
organization (Carlos Eugenio Paz interview). A ﬂyer of the revolutionary
Movimento de Libertacﬁo Popular (MOLIPO; Movement for Popular Liberation)
eulogized Leme as a “popular combatant.”1° P

Except for one brief and vague statement by a tortured student, however, the
police had no proof linking Leme to violence. First, their report did not mention
him in a description of robberies and thefts allegedly carried out by Queiroz and
others.” Second, the lead DEOPS-SP interrogator in the case, detective Edsel
Magnotti, cited documents found on Oliveira’s ALN assassins linking Leme to the
crime, but these documents are nowhere to be found in the DEOPS-SP papers or in
the investigation.” Moreover, it was unlikely for a guerrilla to carry information
that could endanger a comrade. Third, Paz, who ordered the execution of Oliveira,
gave the task of shadowing the restaurateur not to Leme but to Francisco Penteado.
The ALN could not afford to expose a valuable student organizer to violence
(Carlos Eugenio Paz interview). Penteado allegedly participated in the assassina-
tion in February 1973 and was murdered along with two other militants by the
police days before Leme’s arrest.” Most signiﬁcant, the DEOPS-SP archive contains
nothing on Leme prior to his death. The vast documentation of the political police
testiﬁes to their careful surveillance even of unthreatening groups and individuals.
Leme was apparently too unimportant, or too unnoticeable in his peaceful ALN
work, to attract police attention.”

Exactly how the security forces learned of Leme and arrested him remains a
mystery. One possibility was through a former ALN militant who became an
informant (Expedito Filho 1992:29). They most likely caught word of him in a furi-
ous sweep against the ALN for its February 25, 1973, assassination of Octavio
Gongalves Moreira Junior, a DOI—CODI torturer with links to the ultraright
Comando de Caca aos Comunistas (Communist-Hunting Command) and the
extremist Catholic group Tradicao, Familia e Propriedade (Tradition, Family, and
Property), which accused progressive clergymen of Communism.” The DOI-CODI
needed to assert itself because its future had clouded with the coming presidency of
Geisel, an advocate of liberalization. About a week before his detention, Leme
noticed he was being trailed (Lisete. interview; Lazaro interview 1). The only other
clue came in an ALN intelligence report carried to Paz, who was in Cuba undergo-
ing further guerrilla training. It stated that Leme and other ALN militants had fall-
en because of an unknown security breach in the student movement (Carlos

204

Anatomy of a Death

Eugenio Paz interview).15 Leme was undoubtedly picked up by the DOI-CODI.”
There two interrogation squads successively brutalized him on March 16 and 17. As
the cell keeper went to get Leme for yet another session, he was surprised to ﬁnd
him dead (Comissao de Familiares 19962173).

When only a few hundred of the tens of thousands of people arrested in military

[Brazil perished, why did Leme die? The torturers alone know the intimate details of

his calvary. The only named perpetrator in Leme’s death (the others are known only
by code names), DOI-CODI commander Major Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra,
made no comment on Leme in his 1986 book on the repression. He denied engag-
ing in torture, although a former militant later elected to the Congress accused him
of being her tormentor (Ustra 1986).” Ustra was one of the most infamous perse-
cutors of the left (Gorender 1998:272; also Wright 1993).

Presumably Ustra and his agents did not intend Leme’s death—at least not on
the seventeenth. Although the sadistic traditions of Brazilian police work certainly
thrived in the 1970s, the security forces basically used torture to gather intelligence.
Torturers became professional at testing the physical and psychological limits of
their victims, sometimes with the assistance of physicians and psychologists.”
There is no evidence of such help at Leme’s interrogation?”

Or perhaps Leme’s executioners applied wrathful force because of his relatives’
political activities. Father Vannucchi, who treated Leme as a son, had worked with
JOC and was jailed brieﬂy by the Sorocaba police in 1964 on suspicion of
Communism.” The security forces had also tortured two of Leme’s cousins, student
revolutionaries José Ivo and Paulo de Tarso Vannuchi. Paulo belonged to the ALN.
Leme visited him in prison and discussed political issues. Deeply worried about his
safety, Leme’s relatives tried to convince him to reduce his political activity.

Another factor might be the proud deﬁance of youth. Leme did not give up eas-
ily in a ﬁght (Paulo Vannuchi interview). Days before his death he told a fellow stu-
dent that he would resist arrest.” At the DOI-CODI he entered a maximum securi-
ty cell. While many prisoners gave up information, Leme refused. According to
witnesses, Leme, carried by jail keepers back to his cell after a torture session, cried
out, “My name is Alexandre Vannucchi Leme. I am a geology student. They accuse
me of belonging to the ALN. I only gave my name” (Comissao de Familiares
1996:175). One DOI-CODI agent referred to Leme as “crazy” (Pereira 198626). A
friend, Arlete Diogo, who was also imprisoned and tortured stated the following:

The torturers were very impressed because he didn’t say anything. . . . They would
become enraged when we said that he was a Christian. They wanted to talk about
Alexandre. . . . Their concern was always to incriminate Alexandre, to create the image

205

Secret Dialogues

Anatomy of a Death

of an atheist, a sectarian, a violent person. But that image didn’t ﬁt with the one that
we had of him. (Pereira 1986)

Whatever the reason, the DOI-CODI agents were unprepared for Leme’s death.
They rushed to forge two stories. The ﬁrst was for those who knew that Leme died
at DOI-CODI—prisoners, agents uninvolved in the interrogation, Coroners who
signed false reports, and other police authorities. In this version Leme had com-
mitted suicide by cutting his throat with a razor blade in the inﬁrmary. To authen-
ticate this story the interrogators and their commanders slit the neck from ear to
ear while the body still lay in the cell. Other prisoners saw the body covered with
blood as the agents dragged it away.” The jailers then faked a search for blades in
other cells (Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 19851256).

The second version, the truck accident, went to the press. It became imperative
after a USP student phoned the family about the arrest, leading José Leme to search
for his son. The security agents could not keep the stories straight. Fleury gave
Leme’s father the accident version; moments later, Magnotti insisted it was suicide
(Pereira 1986). In a letter to a top prosecutor DEOPS-SP Director Lucio Vieira
mixed the two versions by referring to the truck accident as a “suicide.”24 After the
press belatedly reported the “accident” on March 23, 1973, a DOI-CODI man
bragged to prisoners: “We give out any version we want” (Meu ﬁlho Alexandre
Vamzucchi, 5). Cover-up and false accusations allowed the regime to focus attention
on Leme as a dangerous “terrorist.”

The incident’s political implications led the police to substantiate Leme’s death
by investigating him posthumously. They arrested other USP students to justify
their claim of the existence of a large ALN network on the campus (Lazaro inter-
view 2). Only after the family’s lawyers petitioned the courts for aid did the police
include Leme in the Oliveira murder case. In his case summary, Magnotti revealed
the underlying concern of the regime: students and the Church were protesting
Leme’s death.” The official public statement extended the lie by accusing Leme of
crimes not even alleged by the police. The public statement also referred to Leme’s
revelation of the names of other subversives—but no such deposition exists in the
police report.”

The Reaction to Leme’s Death: Moving to the Brink,
Building Opposition

Leme posed a bigger challenge to the regime in death than in life. His murder
tested the bishops’ new commitment to human rights. In February 1973, they had

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commemorated the twenty-ﬁfth anniversary of the U.N. Declaration of Human
Rights and adopted an unprecedented educational campaign by distributing hun-
dreds of thousands of copies of the declaration.” Theory became action.

The Church and the students protested the incident not just because Leme was
a popular campus leader. His was the only death of a USP activist who had not gone
underground to join the guerrillas (Lazaro interview 2; Adriano Diogo and Arlete
Diogo interviews). There was no link between Leme and violence. So the opposi-
tion was all the more adamant about learning the circumstances of his demise.
Leme’s death also contributed to the growing perception among the students and
in the Church that the repression had reached its limits. Leme became a symbol
against the repression.

The ﬁrst outcry came from the bishop of Sorocaba. Dom José Melhado Campos
(a neighbor of the Lemes) and the local council of priests issued a scathing criticism
of the police. It was read at masses and published in the Sorocaba press, Church
bulletins, and 0 S570 Paulo, the weekly newspaper of the archdiocese of Sao Paulo:

Why wasn’t the family notiﬁed of the “accident”? Why wasn’t the body turned over to
them? Who in the family carried out the proper identiﬁcation of the cadaver before it
was buried? Why did the family only learn about the occurrence in the newspapers, on
Friday the 23rd, when, according to police, Alexandre had died the previous Saturday,
the 17th? . . . It does not lie within our competence to refute the accusations imputed
against this young university student. God knows the truth and judges. But it is evident
that, torturing and killing the victim, the police authorities barbarically eliminated
someone who could have recognized his acts and defended himself through the legal
process.”

Several days later Dom Jose and the priests’ council published another protest in
the local paper. They based their action on the CNBB’s February 1973 document.
They also asked President Médici to improve the protection of human rights.”
Meanwhile, students at USP and other universities protested Leme’s death. In
late March and April 1973, USP buzzed with activity—with meetings, pamphle-
teering, discussion at information tables, and class stoppages. Students wore black
arm bands and draped black banners around the campus.3° Leme’s geology col-
leagues organized a joint student-faculty committee to investigate the circum-
stances of his death and to establish proof of his innocence (Simas 19862233)?“
Students from USP and other schools then issued a statement citing Leme’s “excel-
lent reputation among students and professors” and his qualities as a leader.” The
geology students declared a state of mourning and proposed a memorial mass for
Leme. The police monitored the students through an inﬁltrator and obtained

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copies of their manifestos.” The clergy also planned masses. On March 29, 1973,

Dom José held a mass in Sorocaba. Another was set for March 30 in Sao Paulo.
How to carry it out was a delicate matter. Sao Paulo was the explosive center of

the guerrilla movement and the repression. Second Army head General Humberto

- de Souza Mello, the city’s top military authority, fully backed the security forces,

while Dom Paulo built a campaign for human rights. Dom Paulo visited prisoners
(including the imprisoned Dominicans), exposed torture, and formed the CJP-SP
to investigate abuses. In 1972 he had led the bishops of the state of Sao Paulo in a
vigorous denunciation of torture (“Testemunho de paz” 1972). Days before Leme’s
death, Pope Paul VI lent prestige to Dom Paulo’s efforts by naming him a cardinal.
Through the Bipartite, the military had managed to tone down some of the Sao
Paulo Church’s protest and even tried to co—opt Dom Paulo (see chapter 7). Seeking
dialogue, he had by mid-1972 visited Second Army headquarters three times, but
Souza Mello refused to see him.” President Médici also expelled Dom Paulo from
his ofﬁce after a meeting of only a few moments (Médici 199 5:84). Emotions rising,
the Leme issue threatened to burst into a major crisis.

Dom Paulo had to work carefully. He was archbishop of South America’s largest
city and an honorary vice president of Brazil. To celebrate mass for a suspected sub-
versive could only anger the authorities. But Dom Paulo was also a pastor to stu-
dents. Twenty-two of their leaders went to Dom Paulo’s home. They informed him
that the police had surrounded the USP. The leaders demanded that he say mass
there for ten thousand students expected to appear. If not, they would start a riot.
However, going to USP could only provoke the generals. Dom Paulo sought a non-
violent alternative. He convinced the students that a mass at the Sé Cathedral in
downtown Sao Paulo would be an act for all Brazil to witness (Dom Paulo inter-
view).35

It was the eve of the ninth anniversary of the coup. Despite the censors’ ban on
publicity, attempts to block traffic, and the presence of riot troops near the Sé and
at USP, three thousand people attended the service. Upon entering the cathedral,
each received a prayer sheet that also served to cover the face from police cameras
(Dom Paulo interview).35 The police distributed a falsiﬁed version of the student
leadership’s manifesto." With police sirens blaring outside, Dom Paulo, Dom José,
and twenty-four priests led the people in prayer and singing, including a prohibit-
ed protest song by exiled composer Geraldo Vandré.38 Using biblical passages,
Dom Paulo rebuked the authorities:

Only God owns life. He is its origin, and only He can decide its end. . . . When he was
born, Christ himself wanted to feel the tenderness of his mother and the warmth of the

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Anatomy of a Death

Pope Paul VI conferred the status of cardinal on Dom Paulo, in Rome, on March 5, 1973, just
days before Leme’s death. Dom Puulo used his ecclesiastical prestige to oppose the repression.

family. And even after he died, his corpse was returned to his mother, friends, and rela-
tives. This justice was done to Christ by a representative of the Roman government who
was totally against His mission as the Messiah. . . . “Where is your brother? The voice
of your brother’s blood is crying out to Me from the ground!” . . . Who has done jus-
tice—the Supreme Judge asks—who has seen to it that the truth is said and that love
has been given a chance? . . . Men are being imprisoned! Has anybody been able to
visit them and free them?”

After the mass the people sang and calmly left the cathedral as security forces stood
by in a one-hundred-block area ready to repress any attempt at political demon-
stration.

Not all students and clergy supported Dom Paulo. Dom Vicente Marchetti
Zioni, the conservative archbishop whose arrival in Botucatu led to the exit of many
clergymen, refused a request by students to say mass. The police were pleased.“ In
S50 Paulo right—wing organizations distributed ﬂyers against the mass. A group at
the highly conservative USP law school, for instance, called Leme a “terrorist” and
the memorial “ridiculous.” The group concluded: “Heads are going to roll, and you
can be sure that they won’t be ours.”41

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Anatomy of a Death

“Where is your brother? The voice of your brothers blood is crying out to Me from the ground!”
(Dom Paulo).

An exchange of private letters between Dom Paulo and Minister of Education
Jarbas Passarinho revealed the extremes to which each side believed the other had
gone. Dom Paulo complained that the security forces took “justice into their own
hands” and were ignorant of “the most elemental principles of human rights.” Dom
Paulo added, “A crime—if it occurred—is not punished with an even larger crime.”

He continued:

Your Excellency, Senhor Minister, knows as well as I do what Brazil expects from its
youth . . . to whom lessons of this ilk, especially coming from where they do, are not
the most apt for making this generation believe in the future or be ready to take charge
of it. Whatever its source, violence is the most fertile seed from whose bosom hate will
be born many times over and whose brutality and stupidity prepare the ruin of any
nation. Violence is even more serious, incomprehensible, and unpardonable if it begins
precisely with those whose highest mission is to safeguard the peace, protect families,
and show tolerance and understanding towards those on whom age has not yet con-
ferred maturity and who often confuse healthy ideals with the impetuous generosity of
their young years. . . . There once was a time when having a son in the university was
reason for just pride and serene tranquillity for parents. Today with ever greater fre-
quency it is motive for fear and anxiety.

Dom Paulo asked Passarinho to use his prestige within the government to clarify

the many doubts about the case.“

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Anatomy of a Death

Passarinho’s response was severe. He claimed that the episode did not concern
the Ministry of Education (although DEOPS documentation shows that the min-
istry’s spy service watched the situation at the USP).43 Leme died because he was
trying to overthrow the regime. “Alexandre was a student terrorist. . . . He
belonged to the Armed Tactical Group of the ALN, whose mission, as is known, is
armed combat. He was not affected as a student, but as a terrorist.” Passarinho
then attacked the Church’s human rights campaign:

Eminence, I cannot fathom a justice (I prefer to call it a pretense of justice) which con-
sists only of invoking . . . defense of the prerogatives of human persons when they are
guerrillas. I do not understand why nothing is said about the right to life of people like
the Portuguese merchant, machine-gunned thanks to information from Alexandre and
others.

Passarinho praised Dom Paulo’s denunciation of violence and urged him to
defend his position publicly, but he criticized the cardinal for holding the me-
morial:

That mass, celebrated . . . when the day’s activities are coming to an end and crowds

become inevitable in downtown Sao Paulo; a mass awaited with intense expectation

because of activists’ publicity spread as a challenge to the temporal Power; a mass
marked by a homily extremely harsh towards those responsible for state security (and

therefore judging them in absentia); that mass, Senhor Cardinal, could have caused a

river of blood, and yes, this time, the blood of the innocent and the pious! Fortunately,

thanks to the Mercy of God and the prudence of the authorities, this did not happen.

But the probability was extremely high. I believe that Your Excellency considered that

possibility but preferred to run the risk for reasons surely ponderable but beyond me.44

The government reacted strongly. Censors blocked news of Dom Paulo’s ser-
mon (Silva 1973), although some reports did slip through, resulting in the punish-
ment of a Sao Paulo television station under the LSN and prior censorship of the
Rio opposition paper Opinido.“ In the Chamber of Deputies, MDB congressman
Lysaneas Maciel berated the government, but no newspaper printed his speech or
the demand of a colleague that the Congress investigate human rights Violations.“
The security forces arrested dozens in a search for the campus organizers of the
event. Students were also detained in Rio de Janeiro.‘”

At the DOI—CODI, Major Ustra and his torturers beat their prisoners in a ﬁt of
rage and fear over the mass (Adriano Diogo and Arlete Diogo interviews). The
episode reverberated across the state of S50 Paulo, keeping the DEOPS and intelli-
gence units on alert for months. In an unusual development, President Médici’s
public relations office received a notice about the case. Like Communism, mention

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Anatomy of a Death

of Leme’s name immediately raised suspicions and led to the opening of intelli-
gence ﬁles on individuals. As one report put it, the regime now had an “Alexandre
Vannucc[h]i Leme problem.”43

The government feared and the campuses hoped for one thing: the revival of the
student movement. The mass was the ﬁrst large political gathering of students
since 1969 (“A marca da cruz” 1978). One ﬂyer stated that it showed the “force of
mobilization and unity, which leave the repressors with their hands tied” against
the masses.” The spy services in Rio de Janeiro and across Sao Paulo analyzed the
“fresh outbreak of leftist activities” at colleges and schools, some experiencing agi-
tation for the ﬁrst time. Activists were organizing meetings, strikes, marches, and
murals; distributing literature; and seeking ties to the progressive clergy.5° Fearing
the spread of Communist inﬂuence, the federal police saw the need for all spy agen-
cies to “conduct a general investigation of the entire student movement.”51

The Bipartite: Pressure Behind the Scenes

In the weeks after Leme’s death, the opposition continued to pressure the gov-
ernment to resolve the case. Responding to faculty and student demands, USP pres-
ident Miguel Reale sent a laconic, formal request for an explanation to Brigadier
General Sérvulo Mota Lima, the secretary of public security for the state of Sao
Paulo.“

General Lima had taken part in the investigation of the Barra Mansa deaths
(Sampaio interview) and was therefore no stranger to the horrors of torture. Yet in
a public reply to Reale, the general attempted to erase all suspicion of wrongdoing
in the Leme case. The statement appeared widely in the press. Lima reafﬁrmed the
accusations as well as the accident story. He added that Leme had revealed names
of other ALN members and confessed to participating in two robberies and the
Oliveira murder. However, Leme had refused to state his occupation or his address,
where he kept subversive documents. Lima asserted that the security forces delayed
public notiﬁcation because they needed secrecy to break up a “terrorist cell” at the
USP. Lima claimed he had witnesses to prove that Leme died from an accident. The
burial took place quickly to prevent what had happened in Recife, where “terror-
ists” tried to steal a comrade’s cadaver from the morgue to exploit his death politi-
cally.53 As the secret Bipartite meetings subsequently revealed, the military feared
that Leme would become another Edson Luis, a student victim of the repression
whose publicly displayed corpse inspired nationwide protests in 1968.54

After Lima’s statement, the Leme family and the Church opened another front

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Anatomy of cl Death

with the help of two lawyers from the CJP-SP—Mério Simas, who had defended the
Dominicans, and José Carlos Dias. They petitioned the police, the courts, and the
military to turn over the body and to investigate the incident thoroughly. The
requests went up the chain of command to General Souza Mello (Simas 1986, ch.
16). His failure to respond or to send the case to the civilian authorities signiﬁed
implicit recognition that the death had occurred in a military installation such as
DOI-CODI (Mario Simas interview).

The episode gained international dimensions when Leme’s mother wrote a let-
ter to Pope Paul VI on Good Friday, the day of Christ’s death. “My son Alexandre,
who was a person of ideals and self-giving, was summarily assassinated by the
organs of repression exactly because he was struggling for the protection of human
rights in Brazil and defending justice and liberty,” she wrote. She asked the pontiff
to help bring “peace and justice” to Brazil (Meuﬁlho Alexandre Vannucchi). The for-
eign press also reported on the case.

When all else failed, the bishops took the Leme case to the Bipartite Commis-
sion. The Grupo Religioso persistently pressed the Situagao for an accounting of
Leme’s death. At the May 30, 1973, meeting Candido Mendes described the
moment as an important “test” of the Bipartite’s dialogue.” The day before, he had
been in Sao Paulo. He presented the petitions from the Leme family drafted by Dias
and Simas. The attorneys enumerated inconsistencies in the official version,
including the claim that Leme was buried as an anonymous indigent because noth-
ing was known of him. The death certiﬁcate carried full information. The petition-
ers requested an exhumation and a detailed autopsy in the presence of the family’s
doctor, dentist, and lawyers. They explained that their motive was not political but
to “discover the truth.”55

General Muricy declared that the government wanted to clarify the incident. He
read the depositions of the alleged witnesses who had seen Alexandre run over.
Then Major Lee attempted to rebut the petition point by point using the same
argumentation as General Lima. Working at CIE, Lee knew more about the repres-
sion than perhaps any other member of the Situacao (Moraes Rego interview). He
denied that the security forces knew that either Leme or those he allegedly
denounced were students. The police wanted to know about subversive activities,
not the men’s professions. Moreover, there was “nothing strange” in the fact that
General Lima’s statement placed Leme’s death at 11 A.M., while the death certiﬁcate
stated 5 P.M. Most signiﬁcant, Lee said that the time, place, and circumstances of
Leme’s arrest were unimportant.” Candido Mendes insisted that the government
order the judiciary to approve the petition, but Professor Padilha refused the idea

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Anatomy of a Death

as a violation of the separation of powers. The Situacads postmeeting report stated
that the Leme case “polarized” the two sides. Yet the military was conﬁdent that its
version would eventually be proved correct, thus forcing Dom Jose and other cler-
gymen to retract their criticisms.“

The Grupo Religioso came well prepared to counterargue the military’s points
at the July 25, 1973, Bipartite. Dom Lucas presented documents verifying Leme’s
appendectomy in late January and his recuperation in Sorocaba during part of
February. This evidence contradicted the security forces’ mention of an “old inci-
sion” on the corpse and the assertion that Leme was engaged in subversive activity
in Sao Paulo in February. Thus an exhumation might show the cadaver to be of
another person. (As Dom Ivo observed, the security forces switched the identities
of prisoners to prevent their location by friends or family. Dom José had raised this
possibility during the Sorocaba mass.) If so, cases of other missing prisoners might
be resolved. The bishop made reference to the DOI-CODI, thus indicating that the
Grupo Religioso had good information as to who was carrying out the repression.
Dom Lucas also claimed that Leme’s family was receiving threatening phone calls.
Candido Mendes added that the petition was valid not only for the civilian justice
system but also for the military courts that judged cases of alleged subversion.
General Muricy tried to deﬂect these arguments. The family had not approached
the Army with its petition, he stated. The case was “practically closed,” but
Candido Mendes was “pressuring” the Lemes to continue. The bishops forced the
issue yet further, with Dom Ivo defending Candido Mendes’s role in the case as rep-
resentative of the CNBB and the Peace and Justice Commission. Even the more con-
ciliatory Dom Avelar entered the debate, afﬁrming that “this case should be carried
to its ultimate consequences . . . because it involved the probity of the CNBB and
the bishop of Sorocaba.” If Dom José were wrong, the CNBB would recognize that
he had been used. If he were right, the police would have to correct their ways.59

Dom Lucas then dropped a bombshell: at least one other prisoner would testi-
fy that Leme had died differently from the military version. Candido Mendes sug-
gested that attorney Simas be brought to the Bipartite. General Muricy refused,
stating that Simas was “against the government.” He preferred a member of the
Leme family. Padilha added that the family had given up on their petition.“ (In
fact, they had not.) But the evidence continued to mount against the Situagao. At
the August Bipartite, Dom Ivo showed the commission the depositions of ﬁve wit-
nesses stating in a military court that Leme had died in his cell after torture by DOI-
CODI agents.“

Dom Ivo’s words were the last recorded by the Bipartite on the Leme death. As

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Anatomy of a Death

the military predicted, it had won a battle against the Grupo Religioso because the
ofﬁcial version stood. No body was exhumed, no satisfaction or ﬁirther explanation
given the family and the public. Wittingly or unwittingly, the Situagao took part in
the cover-up. Yet in the Situac5o’s estimation, the bishops had persisted because the
case was “polemical” and thus gave them “certain triumphs.”52

The ultimate moral victory came for the Church in 1985, when it published tes-
timony about Leme’s death in Brasil: nunca mais. One eyewitness at the DOI-CODI

99 (6

spoke of seeing “many people being tortured. The worst case took place with a
young man named Alexandre Vannucchi. For two or three days I heard his cries
and, in the end, . . . I saw his cadaver taken out of the maximum security cell, with

blood spreading all over the ﬂoor” (Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1985:256).

Conclusion

As his death produced repercussions throughout the 1970s, Leme’s name
became a symbol of resistance for the opposition but also a signal alerting the
police to new acts of subversion. In 1974 Amnesty International included a descrip-
tion of Leme’s death in its human rights report on Brazil.“ USP’s Diretorio Central
dos Estudantes (DCE; Central Student Directorate) was renamed the “DCE
Alexandre Vannucchi Leme.” In March 1978 students across Brazil organized a day
of protest to commemorate the ﬁfth anniversary of Leme’s death and the tenth
anniversary of the Edson Luis incident. They used the occasion to demonstrate
against President Geisel and the visit of U.S. President Jimmy Carter.“ Leme’s par-
ents became rallying points in the broad-based amnesty movement for exiles and
political prisoners. With the political opening, a number of opposition candidates
tried to recruit the couple to support their campaigns.“ Leme’s case also appeared
in denunciations of physicians accused of signing false death certiﬁcates to hide
torture.“ Many of these and other recollections of Leme caught the attention of
DEOPS officers. Thus different interpretations of his importance contributed to
the creation of the historical memory of the incident. The opposition cast Leme as
a martyr, while the police saw him as a dangerous individual who, when remem-
bered, led to further subversion.

Justice came slowly. In late 1978 the Superior Military Tribunal, which heard all
appeals cases involving political prisoners, reviewed testimony of six witnesses to
Leme’s torture in the DOI-CODI. One of the judges, General Rodrigo Octavio
Jordao, proposed an investigation but was outvoted (13-1). Encouraged by ]ord§o’s
initiative, attorney Simas once again petitioned the military justice system. He too

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Anatomy of cl Death

was denied (Simas 1986:237—39). In 1983, with Brazil headed for civilian rule, the
Leme family ﬁnally received permission to remove their son’s bones from the Perus
cemetery. With the help of a dental mold taken in early 1973 two dentists conﬁrmed
that the bones were Leme’s (Jose Prestes interview). They were buried in the fami-
ly plot in Sorocaba after a ceremony in S50 Paulo that also welcomed home the
remains of Frei Tito, the brutally tortured Dominican who committed suicide in
France. In December 1995, President Fernando Henrique Cardoso signed into law a
bill making government compensation possible for families of victims of the dicta-
torship. Leme’s name was approved as a government commission began reviewing
cases in 1996 (see Miranda 1996b). The family received compensation payment in
1997-

The swell of outrage against Leme’s death led the Church to exercise its new poli-
cies in defense of human rights. It became the “voice of the voiceless” for the fami-
ly and the thousands of mourners prohibited from protesting. The notion of
human rights passed from abstraction to concrete action. Dom José’s and Dom
Paulo’s gestures did not represent individual positions but the national consensus
of the bishops. The Church’s position was fraught with risks. The potential for vio-
lence was great, and the Leme mass identiﬁed the Church with subversion and
endangered its historically nonpartisan stance. Had the Church known fully Leme’s
ALN ties, it might have trod more cautiously.”

Paradoxically, the Church’s position increased its political strength. The Leme
incident forged a tighter bond between the Church and the students. The growing
conﬂuence between the Church and the left laid the basis for a strategic alliance
that would help knit together the opposition during the transition to democracy.“
Leme was dead, but his Vision of a coalition of forces was becoming reality.

Dom Paulo’s actions demonstrated the complexities and tensions involved in
building the opposition. He walked a thin line between violence and demands for
justice. He went with the students to the brink of confrontation with the govern-
ment, but, unbeknownst to the regime, he also played a moderating role by staying
away from the political hotbed of the USP campus and insisting on nonviolent
protest. Dom Paulo understood well how to test the limits of the generals’ patience.
He was prudent but ﬁrm in his opposition to the repression. The Leme protest
removed any doubt that he might be co-opted. It was a deﬁning moment for Dom
Paulo and the Church. Keeping the institution intact, he skillfully maneuvered it
into opposition. Dom Paulo helped to deﬁne the options and limits of public
protest against the regime.

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Anatomy of a Death

The Leme mass served as a key rehearsal for Dom Paulo’s important ecumenical
memorial service for well—known Jewish journalist Herzog in 1975. This protest pre-
sented an even greater challenge to the regime because it united the opposition-
not only students and Catholic clergymen, but Jews, media professionals, intellec-
tuals, and other members of the elite. Thirty thousand students at USP went on
strike, and forty—two bishops signed a statement denouncing the regime’s violence.
Two rabbis and a Protestant minister helped preside over the memorial at the
cathedral, which drew eight thousand people despite the authorities’ attempts to
prevent the event. Dom Hélder, a pariah of the regime, also attended. The Herzog
death came after Geisel had created new expectations about the end of the repres-
sion. Indeed, by then, the regime had begun to use repression more selectively, a
result of Médici’s effective stiﬂing of the opposition. Violence diminished even fur-
ther after the Herzog incident and further pressure by Geisel against the hard-lin-
ers. The debate over the case took place in public. The censors, for instance, did not
stop a thousand journalists from publishing a petition in newspapers demanding
an investigation. Herzog’s status as a member of the media elite magniﬁed the
indignation about his death.“ The protest against his death marked a turning point
in the struggle for democracy.

Two and a half years earlier, however, the Leme mass had served as a key prece-
dent by drawing three thousand people in protest during one of the bloodiest
moments of the regime and before the Geisel administration’s attempts to reduce
human rights abuses. The opening of Dom Paulo’s Herzog sermon echoed his ear-
lier commentary: “God owns life.”7° The Leme case did not have greater impact
because the regime imposed a big lie about his death. Herzog colleague Fernando
Jordao observed that Dom Paulo had regularly denounced human rights violations
throughout the Médici years, but “we journalists, because of pressure from our
bosses, selﬁshness, professional incompetence, or lack of political awareness, often
did not cover or make [the denunciations] public” (jordao 198437).

Another tension resulted from the Church’s conﬂuence with the left. Dom
Paulo’s embrace of the Leme case and other similar actions by the Church marked
a certain bias resulting from the sharp polarization of Brazilian society. Defenders
of the regime complained that human rights often meant defense of the left but not
of the right’s victims. Minister Passarinho expressed this theme to Dom Paulo, and
it was also an important subtext of the police investigation of Leme. Ofﬁcer
Magnotti wrote that “elements of the left in the Catholic Church . . . who knew how
to protest, although without justiﬁcation, the death of Alexandre Vannucchi
Leme, . . . did not mention a single word in the pulpits of the Church in protest of

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Anatomy of a Death

the barbarous murder carried out by the subversive agents of the ALN against a . . .
simple and humble merchant.”71 The right, too, suffered losses and held its memo-
rial ceremonies (Ustra 1986, Giordani 1986).

The Bipartite Commission’s treatment of the Leme case displayed a class bias. A
crucial point was whether the security agents knew Leme was a student. Another
fundamental factor was Leme’s connection to the Church through relatives. These
considerations implied that high social status and institutional ties somehow made
the violation more serious—more heinous for the Church, more politically trou-
blesome for the military. As in the Herzog case, indignation corresponded to a per-
son’s fame and importance. Both the military and the Church thus reﬂected the
highly stratiﬁed Brazilian class system. Not everybody had the same human rights.

The Bipartite demonstrated that, while the Church struggled to develop a pub-
lic stance on human rights, it also resorted to behind-the-scenes dialogue. Candido
Mendes’s intermediary role meant dialogue did not have to halt after General
Muricy’s refusal to speak to CJP-SP attorney Simas. More important, when public
efforts failed and repression and censorship muffled the Church’s public voice, the
Grupo Religioso kept pressure on the regime by demanding information about
political prisoners and victims of torture. The denunciations were also a sign that
the opposition had begun to stir. This development struck fear in the security
forces, leading them to lash out at the Church and the human rights movement.”

The Leme case underscored the political importance of human rights. The
regime worked to present Leme as a terrorist. The Church used the case to
denounce human rights abuses. Although threatened with violence, the Church
took advantage of the opening provided by the incident to challenge the repression.

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Chapter 11 Conclusion

   

I s the regime ﬁnished off the urban guerrillas in 1973, a
group of Castellistas successfully maneuvered with-
in the armed forces to name Ernesto Geisel as
Médici’s successor. Geisel wanted to return Brazil to
civilian rule and immediately embarked on a cam-
paign of distensao, or liberalization of the political system. He reined
in the torturers and the hard-liners, revoked AI—5, restored civil lib-
erties, and relaxed press censorship. By the time Figueiredo assumed
power in 1979, the abertura was well underway. But, as Geisel had
determined, it was a gradual, slow, and secure abertura—secure
especially for the armed forces. In August 1979 the Figueiredo gov-
ernment granted amnesty to political prisoners and eXiles—but also
to torturers. After a decade of careful control of the political process
by the military, in 1985 a civilian again occupied the Palacio do
Planalto.

Geisel began his term hoping to improve relations with the
Church. A Lutheran of Germanic lineage, he was Brazil’s ﬁrst
Protestant president to serve a full term} But he recognized the polit-
ical importance of the Catholic hierarchy. Brazil’s cardinals took a
prominent spot at his inauguration on March 15, 1974 (in fact, they
did not all appear at the inauguration of any of ‘the other four
[Catholic] military presidents). General Golbery, Geisel’s principal
adviser on distensﬁo, met with Candido Mendes, Dom Paulo, and
other Church leaders. In January 1976, Geisel ﬁred Second Army
Commander General Ednardo D’15lvila Mello for failing to prevent
the deaths of Herzog and Manoel Fiel Filho, a Catholic union activist
murdered at the S50 Paulo DOI-CODI. In an apparent display of
sympathy, Geisel visited Dom Geraldo Maria de Morais Penido, the
cousin of the murdered Jesuit Father I050 Bosco Penido Burnier?

219

Conclusion

A signiﬁcant part of Geisel’s Church strategy was to phase out the Bipartite.
General Muricy wanted to continue, however (Piletti and Praxedes 1997:414). He
appealed to his friend Geisel. Muricy was one of the very few officers who could call
the president “Ernesto” or “Alem.io” (German), a nickname. Around the time of the
inauguration, Muricy approached Geisel to discuss the Bipartite. He also met with
Golbery, Minister of Justice Armando Falcao, and the Navy and Army ministers.
Muricy volunteered to remain at the commission’s head.3 Golbery also favored its
continuation (Piletti and Praxedes 1997:414). The president ordered the Bipartite to
proceed “until it was necessary to establish modiﬁcations.” General Muricy
informed the bishops of this decision, and both sides were eager to proceed. When
the Grupo Religioso pressed for collaboration with the government, however,
Muricy became noncommittal, stating that he needed to await further orientationf‘
Clearly, Muricy had not been given the same kind of authority by Geisel as he had
enjoyed under Médici. Geisel was applying the brakes to the Bipartite. The com-
mission met in March, May, and August 1974. Then Geisel decided that area Army
commanders should establish contact with the bishops in order to improve rela-
tions at the local level (Muricy 1993:662—63). Dialogue continued, but hiding it was
no longer necessary because the press was freer and the government somewhat
more open.5 After August 26, 1974, the Bipartite ceased to exist, leaving the politi-
cal scene as secretly as it had entered it in November 1970.

Three days later, General Muricy entered into the U.S. Army Command and
General Staff College Allied Officer Hall of Fame. The ceremony took place in Rio
and was attended by Brazilian and North American officials, including U.S. ambas-
sador John Crimmins. Muricy joined Castello Branco, Orlando Geisel, Oswaldo
Cordeiro de Farias, and other prominent Brazilian generals honored in the hall,
located at Fort Leavenworth, where Muricy had trained during World War 11.6 The
unofﬁcial extension of Muricy’s military career had come to a ﬁtting end.

It was now Geisel’s turn to deal with the bishops. He viewed relations with the
Church as a question of two states, Brazil and the Vatican. Therefore, he considered
the papal nuncio the proper representative of the Church. Furthermore, Geisel rec-
ognized the authority of the pope within the Church and believed that the CNBB,
which took the strongest positions at the Bipartite, was questioning that authority.7
After the nuncio, Geisel preferred to deal ﬁrst with the cardinals and then with the
bishops. Geisel delegated to General Golbery some of these contacts. With the
Bipartite gone, the CNBB now spoke directly with the government? Because the
abertura brought about a gradual end to censorship and the repression, a secret
commission was no longer essential for Church-state communication.

220

Conclusion

Yet Church-state relations remained difﬁcult. Geisel cracked down on both the
hard-line military and its civilian opponents in order to control the abertura. He
was as dictatorial as any of his predecessors. In addition to the Burnier killing,
numerous violent attacks on the Church took place, including the 1976 kidnapping
and torture of Dom Adriano Hypélito, the bishop of Nova Iguagu. Conﬂict raged
especially in the countryside, where the clergy defended the poor against powerful
interests and the authorities. Generals and conservative politicians still accused the
Church of subversion and of embracing Communism, while the bishops’ growing
criticism helped turn sentiment against the regime. Relations improved somewhat
under Figueiredo, but strife continued in the countryside (Mainwaring 1986:154-
64).

The Achievements ot the Bipartite: Reducing Church-State Conflict

After four years of secret dialogue, what had the Bipartite achieved? What was
its signiﬁcance for the Catholic Church, the military, and the Médici era? And what
does it suggest for the study of recent Brazilian history?

In the twentieth century the Church and the Army, two of Brazil’s leading insti-
tutions, cooperated and clashed as they sought to modernize and inﬂuence the
development of society. The military increased its political prominence, culminat-
ing in the regime of 1964-1985. The Church too became deeply involved in politics
by rebuilding itself and restoring its inﬂuence on the state. Although culturally and
ideologically quite different, in the period from 1930 to 1964 the Church and the
armed forces built a working relationship based largely on their mutual anti-
Communism. Some of the military leadership that matured in this era strongly
embraced traditional Catholicism as a basis of Brazilian identity and patriotism.
General Muricy exempliﬁed this attitude. Muricy surely suffered a crisis of guilt
while seeing his Church attacked by comrades in arms. Similarly, bishops such as
Dom Jaime Camara held the armed forces in high respect. This relationship is
essential for understanding modern Brazil.

Cross and sword entered into conﬂict after the “dual revolution” that began in
1964. The Church increasingly stressed social justice, while the military fought
Communism and subversion in the name of Western Christian civilization. The
worst Church-state crisis in Brazilian history ensued. The security forces increas-
ingly targeted the Church, while members of the clergy developed a network of
political resistance to the regime. Catholic activism, attacks on the Church, and tor-
ture became central issues that spilled into the diplomatic arena in Rome and other

221

Conclusion

parts of Europe. General Muricy and Dom Eugenio worked to salvage Brazil’s dete-
riorating image. The crisis involved ideological struggle, but also the competition
for the right to shape the future of Brazilian society. The crisis further highlighted
the differences between the Church and the military and how little they understood
each other’s motives, institutional culture, and efforts at modernization. The con-
ﬂict was exacerbated by the political polarization of the cold war, which affected all
of the Americas. Within this context existed a vast area of theological and political
ambiguity captured in Dom Avelar’s conundrum: “Where does social justice end
and subversion begin?”

The Brazilian solution was the Bipartite. The repression and rapid deterioration
of Church-state relations under Médici ostensibly ruled out dialogue. The crucial
papers of General Muricy have revealed, however, that the Bipartite institutional-
ized dialogue precisely as the Church and the military entered the worst period in
their history. The talks were systematic and encompassed religion, ideology, the
moral order, socioeconomic and political development, and human rights. Both
harsh debate and conciliation marked the meetings. Dialogue was a precious last
resort to avoid a Church-state rift. The Bipartite served as a bridge between an era
of episcopal support for the regime and the distensao. It was a political solution to
an increasingly violent crisis. Rather than rupture, the Bipartite represented a great
deal of continuity—and innovation——in the Church-state relationship that had
evolved over the previous half century. The Bipartite was a central episode in the
history of authoritarian Brazil.

The Grupo Religioso and the Grupo da Situacao met in the shadows of a regime
that ruled by economic braggadocio, fear, and violence. The Bipartite involved mil-
itary intelligence—gathering such as the taping of the bishops without their knowl-
edge. The Bipartite was a secret—a formal dialogue kept as informal as possible, a
way to conduct politics in times of strict censorship. It was not a Church-state sum-
mit. General Muricy prevailed over foes of the Bipartite within the regime, but
Médici kept the commission at a distance. In Médici’s nebulous administration it
was never quite clear whom Muricy and the Grupo da Situagao represented or how
much power they wielded.

The military overwhelmingly held power in Brazil, but the Church freely
entered the dialogue. In fact, it had insisted for years on dialogue. The Bipartite
became a political tool that each side employed to its own advantage. It was a forum
for understanding differences and negotiating concessions in the larger context of
the struggle for control over Brazil’s future.

The Bipartite was a remarkable revelation of the Church’s willingness to collab-

222

Conclusion

orate with the regime. Candido Mendes launched the Bipartite with his bold pro-
posal to establish Church-state cooperation on development. Overly optimistic,
this plan stalled because of the deepening repression, opposition from hard-liners,
and disagreement over what kind of democracy was best for Brazil. Yet it demon-
strated the Church’s intentions and its perception of itself as a moral guide for the
Brazilian political economy. Candido Mendes hoped to ﬁise the military’s techno-
cratic drive for development with radical Catholic notions of social justice. This pro-
posal was quite consistent with the history of Brazilian Church-state cooperation
and the Church’s desire for inﬂuence. Candido Mendes had formulated a new, more
modern version of the moral concordat—an alliance in which the Church would be
linked to the most powerful and dynamic sectors of the new socioeconomic order
projected by the military. This was striking but not new in Brazilian history. The
Church frequently sought to associate itself with power. The plan was nationalistic
and state-driven. Once more the Church was promoting a “third way” to develop-
ment between Communism and capitalism. The plan also attested to the degree of
mutual conﬁdence that, despite the repression, still existed between the Church
and a portion of the military. In sum, the bishops ﬂirted with dictatorship as a way
to develop Brazil. Had such an alliance come about, the history of Church-state rela-
tions and, indeed, of the regime itself would have taken a quite different path.

The bishops and the officers turned instead to the practical resolution of speciﬁc
conﬂicts. Some of these involved repression of alleged subversion at the base of the
Church. The bishops accepted the Grupo da Situacads request to control activism
at this level. The most important cases concerned the bishops, however. Pressured
by the Situacao, they toned down or eliminated some of their statements about the
regime. The Bipartite avoided incidents such as the potential clash at the sesqui-
centennial celebrations in Sao Paulo. The result was a lessening of Church-state ten-
sions.

The views of some of the participants provide a measure of the Bipartite’s effec-
tiveness in reducing conﬂict. Dom Eugénio, the champion of private contacts, was
ultimately skeptical. Reﬂecting on the commission two decades later, he stated that
it only partially alleviated tensions because it lacked a greater number of high—rank-
ing generals. Other participants believed that the Bipartite clearly avoided a deep-
er crisis. General Muricy, General Sampaio, and Candido Mendes stated that the
commission created a political understanding between the bishops and the gener-
als. Candido Mendes observed that the Bipartite fostered this result by removing
the regime’s control of intelligence about the Church from local military com-
manders and centralizing it at the national level. Professor Padilha asserted that the

223

Conclusion

Bipartite averted open Church-state clashes and, therefore, eliminated pretexts for
hard—liners to attack the Church. Dom Paulo described the Bipartite as “highly
important” because “people from both sides were listened to.”9

From the standpoint of the regime the Bipartite contributed to political stabili-
ty and the protection of Brazil’s international image. The Situacao projected the
notion of a state interested in conciliation and the welfare of all Brazilians. Dialogue
allowed the generals, privately and persuasively, to present their views on national
security to the bishops. The generals urged the bishops to distance themselves from
radical interpretations of the Medellin document and to control grassroots mili-
tants. At the Bipartite, the regime acquired some of the religious legitimacy it so
ardently sought from the Church.

By opening a secret channel with the Church, Médici expanded his political
options beyond direct, physical repression. Without compromising the regime
publicly, Muricy held out to the bishops the possibility of collaboration. He also
pressured the bishops to soften criticism and to leash in the activists. In this sense
the Bipartite led to what might be termed negotiated censorship and repression
(see Smith 1997). In addition, the Bipartite provided a military listening post for
understanding the bishops’ positions and motivations.

The Church apparently gained less. But it saw advantages in dialogue. The
Bipartite gave the Church time to regroup from the regime’s attacks. The bishops
were also interested in preserving the moral concordat and Catholicism’s privileges
as Brazil’s semi-official religion. Their agenda included such issues as divorce, birth
control, state ﬁnancial assistance, and competition from other religions. They also
pressured the generals on human rights.

Conﬂict resolution did not extend beyond Church-state relations. The Bipartite
did not, for instance, affect the structural problems of Brazilian society such as the
heavily skewed concentration of wealth and land. Such issues required far more
than a secret commission. Likewise, the Bipartite had no effect on the political lib-
eralization engineered by Geisel. The commission did not discuss the distensao,
which (as most analysts have pointed out) was a purely military initiative, made
possible by the end of the armed opposition and then made necessary because the
security forces had become a cancer within the armed forces.

The Bipartite did display some liberalizing tendencies, however. It attempted a
Church-military consensus on development, debated ideology, and furnished an
excellent example of decompression between the regime and a main opposition
group. Moreover, some participants wanted liberalization and would support it
during the Geisel administration. Candido Mendes was one of the earliest advo-

224

Conclusion

cates of liberalization. He and Dom Eugenio raised the need for Church-state
decompression at the ﬁrst meeting in 1970, and Candido Mendes helped introduce
the concept into the larger political arena by convincing Leitao de Abreu, Médici’s
civilian chief of staff, to ponder liberalization in 1972. Golbery, the intellectual
architect of abertura, supported the Bipartite. In early 1974 Candido Mendes
brought Dom Paulo and Golbery together in an important meeting for Church-
state relations and the start of the distensﬁo.

A New View of the Church

The Bipartite demonstrates that the Brazilian Church during the Médici era
involved far more than opposition to the regime and pastoral innovations.
Historical continuities, institutional needs, and intramilitary politics also affected
the Church’s development. The concept of the “voice of the voiceless” that guided
the Church in the early 1970s had public and private modes. Traditions of opposi-
tion and accommodation were both operative. The Church clearly became more
popular, but at the Bipartite it also focused on inﬂuence and power. The bishops
were more pragmatic than the religious idealism of the period indicated. Catholic
progressivism did not stop the bishops from seeing themselves as intermediaries
between the people and the state. They sought to free Brazil’s poor from socioeco-
nomic exploitation but also to preserve the institution. Expressed in the Bipartite,
this latter objective contradicted the most radical wing of the Popular Church,
which criticized traditional institutional interests (see, for example, Boff 1985) and
focused primarily on grassroots political organization. As seen in the examples of
]OC and Dom Pedro Casaldaliga, this group was at best extremely skeptical of the
Bipartite. Dom Ivo, both a progressive and a key leader of the institution, also had
doubts. Yet he participated. Thus the Bipartite refutes the notion that Catholic
officials who publicly opposed authoritarian regimes did not make conciliatory
gestures or seek preferential treatment. Whereas some see a tendency toward
church-state cooperation only in the absence of serious conﬂict (see, for example,
Gill 1998:183), the Bipartite demonstrates that a search for common ground can
occur even during the tensest moments.

The Bipartite furnished an especially good illustration of how the bishops tem-
pered the CNBB’s critical public pronouncements with private understandings. A
progressive who doubted civilians’ ability to rule, Dom Fernando Gomes was the
best example. The bishops were particularly concerned about negating accusations
of Communism and subversion directed at the Church. The CNBB and the Popular

225

Chapter l

Introduction

he Brazilian Catholic Church’s opposition to military rule
(1964-1985) and its defense of the oppressed have distin-
guished it among the world’s religious organizations. The
critical years were the early 1970s, the era of Brazil’s

 

impressive economic “miracle” but also of violent politi-
cal repression and increased exploitation of people and resources.
Brazil’s cold war national security state tightly controlled politics,
suspended civil liberties and freedom of the press, and tortured and
killed members of the opposition, including Catholic activists. The
worst Church-state clash in Brazilian history began. Scores of ideal-
istic priests, nuns, bishops, and lay militants suffered abuses by the
security forces. Seven clerics were killed. The Church built a highly
public and political proﬁle by denouncing human rights abuses and
economic injustice. It criticized the regime in masses, processions,
broadsides, statements to the press, and official pronouncements.
The bishops’ prophetic condemnations were a watershed, for
throughout Latin America the institutional Church had historically
guaranteed its privileges and inﬂuence by generally supporting the
status quo.1 The Conferéncia Nacional dos Bispos do Brasil (CNBB;
National Conference of the Bishops of Brazil) became a powerful
“voice of the voiceless” by speaking for the opposition and defending
the victims of torture. To ﬁght socioeconomic oppression the CNBB
worked with activists to create new grassroots religious communities
and programs for the poor that together became known as the
Popular Church or the People’s Church. The grist of liberation theol-
ogy, these innovations gave rise to the “preferential option for the
poor” adopted by Latin American Catholicism in the 1970s and
1980s. As one analyst has noted, through its moral legitimacy and

1

Conclusion

Church challenged the social order sustained by the generals, but the institution
still needed to avoid the appearance of subversion because this would contradict
Catholic notions of inclusiveness, corporatism, and of course anti-Communism.
Also, political activism perhaps appeared as too deep an involvement in the tem-
poral realm and therefore would entail a loss of the Church’s identity as a transcen-
dent institution.” Inconsistency resulted from the need for maximum political ﬂex-
ibility (see also Gill 1998:13—14). As the Bipartite demonstrated, dialogue is possible
even during opponents’ worst moments. Depending on circumstances, public and
private stances could contradict or reinforce each other. The public/ private
dichotomy helped the Church and the military negotiate the ambiguous frontier
between social justice and subversion.

But why did the bishops jeopardize their commitment to social justice by talk-
ing with a government that tortured people? Dialogue brought the Church beneﬁts
and allowed it to coexist with the regime. Attempting to inﬂuence the regime
through the promotion of the Church’s values and human rights was better than
ignoring the generals. The Church was a prestigious, inﬂuential, and transnational,
but also native, institution that necessarily saw itself as pastor to all Brazilians. It
alone had the moral authority—and the obligation—to enter into what some crit-
ics might have called a dialogue with the devil (see also Gill 1998:4—5).

The Bipartite and Human Rights

The Bipartite had little direct effect on the repression. The bishops met with
envoys from the security forces, but they had no inﬂuence over units given carte
blanche by a military dictator. One close observer of the Bipartite has asserted that
the bishops “saved many lives” by talking with the generals (Bandeira 1994:77). The
Bipartite did save at least some people from torture and perhaps even death, but
the available evidence does little to support anything more along these lines. It is
impossible to know whether repression would have increased if the Bipartite had
not existed.

The Bipartite did have an indirect effect on the repression, however. The com-
mission secured the release of some political prisoners (see chapter 8). Given the
immense power of the security forces, this achievement was extraordinary. The
Bipartite also avoided potentially explosive incidents. And it was a key conduit for
denouncing abuses to the regime. While censorship and repression made it impos-
sible for Brazilians to protest these abuses, behind the scenes the Grupo Religioso
defended human rights as vigorously as the Grupo da Situacao leveled accusations

226

Conclusion

of subversion. The cases of the Barra Mansa soldiers and Alexandre Vannucchi
Leme are prime examples. Each of these incidents acquired strong but limited pub-
lic dimensions. The ultimate channel for resolving them was the Bipartite.

The Bipartite obliged the military to hear and to respond to the bishops’ accu-
sations. The generals paid a high price: in hoping to inﬂuence the Church, they
opened themselves to criticism. The agreement to discuss human rights was an
implicit——and at times an explicit—admission that the regime was not respecting
them. The bishops’ accusations discredited the repressive hard—liners and helped
demonstrate to the regime that the violence had reached a saturation point. This
was a victory for the Church. Although they were manipulated, the bishops had
managed to turn the Bipartite on the regime.

The Barra Mansa case illuminates how the military dealt internally with the
question of torture. The case proved irrevocably that torture existed and that the
military leadership knew of it. Because this case involved a court-martial and
detailed testimony by military personnel, it provided the most compelling evidence
of atrocities in authoritarian Brazil, including the Brasil: Nunca Mais project. In the
entire history of the regime, this was the only instance of prosecution and punish-
ment of torturers. The publication of the sentences in the press amounted to an
exercise of self-criticism by the Army. Colonel Sampaio’s investigation was risky
and exemplary. He unraveled one of the most violent cases of the Médici years. His
presence at the Bipartite demonstrated the seriousness of General Muricy and the
regime in choosing accomplished and respected ofﬁcers to dialogue with the bish-
ops.

The Barra Mansa trial was the exception that proved the rule. The torturers had
gone out of control. Dom Waldyr and the Bipartite made this point crystal clear to
the military. Institutional discipline, the very heart of martial life, had fallen apart.
Torture boomeranged against the Army, leaving the generals no choice but to pun-
ish the Barra Mansa perpetrators. But the overwhelming majority of abuses were
targeted against members of the opposition. The military leadership purposely
ignored these atrocities. By not extending the Barra Mansa inquiry to all of Brazil’s
barracks, the Army lost the chance to construct a more positive image. Torture cost

the armed forces the trust of much of the nation (see, for example, Soares, .

D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:139—41).

The Bipartite played an important role in the human rights movement in Brazil.
First, it made human rights an eminently political question, albeit within the
framework of private, elite political conciliation. The bishops achieved this goal by
transforming incidents into a subject of Church-military debate. The bishops chose

227

Conclusion

their battles wisely, and they skillﬁilly used human rights against the Situacao.
Second, the Bipartite helped build the Church’s commitment to human rights. This
commitment increased throughout the 1970s, blossomed into other political ini-
tiatives, and translated into leadership of the opposition. The human rights cam-
paigns of today’s Brazil are in part a legacy of the Church’s struggle against torture
during the authoritarian era. Directly or indirectly, the Church’s discourse informs
the debate about the continuing problem of police brutality and corruption, the
structure of the justice system, and ultimately the foundations of Brazilian democ-
racy.”y

The story of the Bipartite also demonstrates the political, social, and historical
constraints on the human rights movement. The Church worked to educate the
populace about human rights, but a series of factors—repression, the regime’s
propaganda machine, censorship and manipulation of the media, and ideological
polarization—blocked or twisted the truth about this effort and the abuses it
denounced. The media transformed murdered opponents such as Leme into “ter-
rorists.” Family, friends, and lawyers had no chance of rebuttal in print or over the
airwaves. Political bias shaped perception of human rights. It was partly rooted in
Alceu Amoroso Lima’s proposal to “exaggerate” regime atrocities—a necessary
response to censorship and the unchecked power of the military. But exaggeration
was also a symptom of polarization. Competing visions of patriotism and the strug-
gle over Brazil’s foreign image caused yet further distortion. The defense of patriot-
ism required that perception override fact. As a result, it was easy for misunder-
standing about human rights to develop. The impact of the Médici era is still pres-
ent. Brazilians have still not reached a consensus on this issue, and some, including
elements of the media, still see human rights as subversive (Zirker 1988; Caldeira
1991).

Another limitation was the reinforcement of unequal treatment before the law.
The establishment of universal respect for human rights would have meant a
signiﬁcant transformation in the way Brazilians understood the general concepts of
individual rights and citizenship and would have required major changes in such
institutions as the police and the courts.” The regime worked in the opposite direc-
tion, by suspending the legal and political rights of thousands of individuals and by
using the police, the courts, and the law for political and repressive purposes. It is
ironic that Leme’s killers remain hidden or protected by the 1979 amnesty law,
which prevented the prosecution of torturers. Because of the supposedly apolitical
character of their actions, the killers in Barra Mansa were practically the only indi-
viduals punished for human rights abuses.

228

Conduﬁon

Class bias was a major obstacle to equal treatment. In 1996 a government com-
mission approved compensation for the Leme family, while the four soldiers of
humble origin who were tortured to death in Barra Mansa have not been consid-
ered victims of the regime. Left—wing militants pleading the case of the poor and the
victims of torture failed to grasp the signiﬁcance of the Barra Mansa episode for
their own cause. Similarly, the defense of political prisoners overshadowed the
more common human rights violations that have long occurred in Brazil’s jail cells.
USP students called attention to such everyday abuses, as did a prominent member
of the S50 Paulo Peace and Justice Commission (Bicudo 1976). While political tor-
ture of middle-class militants disappeared, mistreatment of the poor remains a
serious structural problem. By defending human rights in both the Leme and the
Barra Mansa cases, the Church began to break down some of the social prejudice
inherent in Brazilian notions of justice.

In sum, the story of the Bipartite illustrates the gradual, difﬁcult, and complex
history of the human rights movement in the Brazilian and international contexts.
It also demonstrates the challenges faced by religious institutions in their attempt
to inﬂuence societies on moral questions. As a transnational institution the Church
was uniquely positioned to advance the human rights movement in Brazil, but it
was also subject to the peculiarities of the Brazilian situation and also to its own
substantial secular interests as a large and old institution. The debate over human
rights at the Bipartite revealed how the struggle for human rights is constantly
fraught with political, historical, and cultural considerations.

Rethinking Factionalism

The Bipartite demonstrated a multiplicity of sometimes contradictory voices
and strategies in both the Church and the regime. In the same setting, the Grupo
Religioso touched on issues ranging from social justice and torture to collaboration
with the regime. General Muricy defended the Revolution he had helped to carry
out but also spoke of dialogue and resolving human rights disputes. Publicly
expressed, these dichotomous sets of positions would have threatened internal
splits in the Church and the military. The regime especially rejected any public dis-
cussion of human rights. But privately, the Church and the military acknowledged
each other’s complexities and internal factionalism. They also discussed institu-
tional and political concerns.

Among observers of the Brazilian and Latin American Church there has been a
tendency to ignore multiplicity and instead to divide the episcopate into progres-

229

Conclusion

sive and conservative factions based on political attitudes and theological orienta-
tion. These are powerful, helpful, and to a certain extent unavoidable categories.
But they do not fully explain the bishops’ actions. Historical speciﬁcity and a bish-
op’s personal evolution and social habitat are also important ingredients. The
Bipartite conﬁrms this complexity.

Dom Eugenio provides an interesting example. He deﬁes easy categorization.
For decades he has been one of the most controversial ﬁgures in the Brazilian
Church. He has frequently been portrayed as a promilitary conservative. Yet in the
1950s he worked for social and ecclesial reform. In 1964 he was called a Communist.
Thereafter he maintained a critical attitude toward the government. Himself an
anti-Communist, Dom Eugenio chided the generals for exaggerating anti-
Communism to the detriment of Brazil. Dom Eugenio could make such a comment
because military leaders respected him more than they did any other bishop. He
cultivated public and private relations with them not for ideological reasons but
out of a sense of service to the Church, Brazil, and human rights. He recognized the
value of access to power, especially in a dictatorship. (Not by accident did he
become one of the Church’s most inﬂuential cardinals.) Dom Eugenio proceeded
this way knowing that it would make him unpopular in the Popular Church (see
also Gaspari 1997b). Political polarization made it difficult for anybody perceived
as a moderate or middleman. Although he later opposed some liberation theolo-
gians, the root of Dom Eugénio’s differences with progressiveslay not in theologi-
cal outlook (Dom Eugenio was an enthusiast of Medellin) but in their perceptions
of patriotism and Church hierarchy (see also Peritore 1989). The progressives
denounced injustice in public and abroad, while Dom Eugenio worked behind the
scenes and within Brazil. By quitting the Bipartite, Dom Eugenio both displayed his
skepticism about the regime and admitted the limits of his style.

Which strategy was more effective? It is hard to tell. Together they embodied
the perennial dilemma of the Church’s need for both prudent pastors and daring
prophets to lead a majority that may be neither or a mixture of the two.
Polarization made it hard to strike a balance between them. Both Dom Eugenio and
progressive leader Dom Paulo helped numerous prisoners. A similar contrast exist-
ed between Dom Eugenio and Alceu Amoroso Lima in the diplomatic sphere. The
cardinal wanted to safeguard Brazil’s image, while the intellectual wanted to exag-
gerate the regime’s atrocities. Perhaps the better question is to ask how the
approaches of different sectors of the Church complemented one another as the
institution came to oppose the regime. Dom Paulo and Alceu dwelled in the public
realm, Dom Eugenio in the private.” The progressive-conservative dichotomy is

230

Conclusion

perhaps necessary but certainly insufﬁcient for understanding them and the peri-
od. The positions of other progressives at the Bipartite reinforce the point:
Candido Mendes advocated Church-state dialogue and cooperation; Dom
Fernando wanted a strong government and doubted the ability of civilians to
achieve it. These are contradictions of progressivism only if rigid classiﬁcation is
demanded.“

If factionalism is overemphasized for the Church, it is not sufficiently appreci-
ated in the case of the armed forces under Médici. While Castellistas and hard-lin-
ers struggled for control of the regime, they always coexisted in power and publicly
presented a united front (Couto 19982219). Hard-liners dominated the Médici gov-
ernment—but not completely, as is commonly assumed. The Bipartite further
undermines this assumption. General Muricy belonged to the Castellista bloc,
which came to recognize that the security forces had gone out of control. Members
of this group had a more moderate View of the Church than other sectors of the
regime, for example, hard-liners who saw the clergy as an enemy or irrelevant.
These Castellistas were loyal to the traditional Church and wanted it as a partner in
stability, not as a nemesis. The Bipartite involved political machination, and its mil-
itary leader, General Muricy, clearly favored the repression of the revolutionary left
and radical Catholic militants. But the Bipartite was nonviolent. There the military
revealed its more conciliatory bloc in dialogue with the opposition. Muricy’s pro-
posal to create the Bipartite won out over the objections of opponents within the
leadership of the Médici administration. Faction but also function mattered.
Muricy permitted human rights to come onto the military’s agenda. He even extri-
cated some disappeared political prisoners from the security apparatus. This
approach to Church-state relations deﬁed the typical heavy-handed methods of the
Médici-era hard-liners.

The Bipartite, the Médici Years, and Brazilian History

The Bipartite is a key chapter in the historical narrative of the Médici years and
also underscores some important points about modern Brazil. Most writings focus
on two conspicuous developments of the Médici period: spectacular economic
growth and the high level of political and military repression. Other trends such as
dialogue and conciliation have been overlooked and should be added as subtle hues
to the portrait of this era.

Not so subtle were the Barra Mansa and Leme cases. They were major violent
events that conﬁrmed the importance of secret dialogue. Furthermore, the public

231

Conclusion

and private protests against Leme’s death spotlighted the Church as a rallying point
for the opposition, whose resurgence occurred long before the moment identiﬁed
by most observers. A periodization of the opposition should begin with 1973 rather
than with 1975 and the Herzog case. This outlook challenges the rather traditional,
mechanical, and top-down division of the regime according to presidential terms.
It suggests instead that trends be seen as processes, which cross over inauguration
dates. The Médici period is rich in trends and events to be more fully explored as
new documentary evidence is uncovered. .

The Bipartite emphasized that Brazil’s Church-state conﬂict was primarily a
question of Church—milz'tary relations. Changes in these institutions’ internal lives
explained the difficulty of resolving the conﬂict. Although Brazil has generally been
a society of weak institutions, the study of these two key organizations, and espe-
cially the relations between them, sheds much light on the modern social and polit-
ical history of Brazil. As the regime ﬁirther weakened the political system by elimi-
nating political and civil liberties, the Church and the armed forces’ importance
became proportionately magniﬁed. During the Médici years they were trans-
formed into the major political arbiters. Their meeting place was the Bipartite.

The Bipartite reveals a complex image of both and builds appreciation for the
seriousness with which they viewed themselves and their missions in Brazilian soci-
ety. The bishops were pastors, but also politicians concerned with socioeconomic
development, human rights, and their inﬂuence on Brazilian society. The root of
these concerns lay in the bishops’ religious convictions and the long history of the
Brazilian Church, and of the Church as a worldwide organization with a two-thou-
sand-year history. The Bipartite further underlined the importance of religion in
Brazilian politics. The military is harder to understand and sympathize with
because of its use of violence and torture. For many Brazilians and at least some
authors, the generals were little better than “gorillas,” as Brizola described General
Muricy. Yet the armed forces were just as conﬁdent of their convictions as the
Church. Since the mid—nineteenth century and especially between 1964 and 1974,
the Brazilian ofﬁcer corps believed that it was more competent to govern than the
civilians. This is a belief traditionally shared by the militaries of many other Latin
American countries and, indeed, of many nations in history. In the Brazilian case
the generals were interested in power, but also in developing the country and estab-
lishing what they considered the best model for politics and government. General
Muricy and other members of the Situacao were convinced that they could sway
the bishops toward their way of thinking. They were the military intelligentsia in
action, the cordial and professorial faces of authoritarianism.

232

Conclusion

The debate over social justice and subversion ﬂushed out the similarities and
differences between the Church and the Army. They admired each other’s hierar-
chy and emphasis on discipline, but in the end they could not agree on a common
vision for Brazilian society. The bishops wanted a more just, democratic, and egal-
itarian system in which they would nevertheless continue to have an important role
as moral judges. The generals envisioned a limited authoritarian democracy that
they would continue to safeguard by rooting out subversion.

Despite its risks and failures, dialogue made sense in light of Brazil’s tradition of
elite accommodation. The military not only failed to achieve its goal of purging
Brazil of traditional politics; it embraced them, reinforcing the elitist nature of the
society (Hagopian 1996). The Bipartite exempliﬁed elite conciliation and the high-
ly personalistic nature of Brazilian politics. The participants—bishops, generals,
intellectuals——represented the upper strata of society. They were all men, light-
skinned, and from middle-aged to old. Most of them lived privileged lives because
of family background or professional success. Many were devout Catholics.
Women, Protestants, peasants, workers, victims of the repression and their fami-
lies, and politicians had no access to the Bipartite. Insofar as it was an “elite settle-
ment,” the Bipartite excluded the people from its deliberations.“ The military
takeover had damaged elite consensus in Brazil, pitting two of the main pillars of
society against each other. The Bipartite was an attempt to restore consensus and
establish new rules of conciliation. It was made possible by the personal ties of
Professor Padilha, a leading intellectual and son of a governor. He brought togeth-
er Candido Mendes and General Muricy. The commission mirrored the decision-
making process of Brazilian politics and government, with debate and decisions
taking place behind closed doors (and away from the press), over meals and at
informal appointments, on the telephone, or through private correspondence such
as the exchanges between General Muricy and Dom Eugenio or Dom Lucas’s letter
to President Médici. At issue were Church-state relations, but also questions of
honor among gentlemen as in the government’s humiliation of Dom Avelar. In
Muricy the military had found a general tough enough—but also highly cultured
and affable enough—to deal with the bishops. Candido Mendes became the glue of
the Bipartite by means of his noblesse oblige, ability to network, and the realization
that the Church needed the state and the elite to forge a new version of the moral
concordat.

Good Church-state relations were customary in modern Brazil. From Dom
Leme’s understandings with Vargas in the 1930s to the Bipartite in the 1970s, the
moral concordat was but another form of elite conciliation. Church-state conﬂict

233

Conclusion

and cooperation were rooted deeply in Latin American history. In Brazil, coopera-
tion took on a unique form. Lieutenant Colonel Paciﬁco’s notion of the Bipartite as
a sui generis Brazilian solution can be applied to the entirety of modern Brazil’s
Church-state relations. In the 1950s the Catholic leadership believed that “before
the world Brazil is accomplishing a singular experience with respect to relations
between Church and state.” Ofﬁcial ties did not exist, but harmony and collabora-
tion did (XXXVI Congresso Eucaristico 1955:119). The dictatorship represented an
interlude during which a Church in transition faced the destruction of this rela-
tionship. The Bipartite appeared as a way for the Church to maintain its moral and
religious dominance and to address its institutional concerns. Exclusively Catholic
in an era of ecumenism, the Grupo Religioso preserved the Brazilian tradition of
the Church’s privileged part in elite decision—making. As the regime faded, the
Church began to withdraw from opposition politics and to focus again on cooper-
ation with the state. Throughout the modern period, the Church maintained its
self-image as creator and protector of Brazil’s Catholic identity and as the country’s
moral guardian. ,

The uniqueness of this solution stands out in comparative perspective. In
authoritarian Argentina some leaders of the Church collaborated with the repres-
sion, whereas in Chile it stood up for human rights but did not have any secret
understandings with the dictatorship. In Brazil the Bipartite worked to tone down
or explain alleged Catholic subversion, maintain Church inﬂuence, and to
denounce human rights violations. The Bipartite was a remarkable development in
the history of dictatorial regimes in contemporary Latin America.

In the post—cold war order, East-West tensions have diminished as former
Communist regimes have become capitalist. Ethnic strife and other social contra-
dictions have come to the forefront, however, and new variations of authoritarian-
ism have emerged. The struggle for social justice will remain a central theme of his-
tory. New forms of subversion will rise up and undoubtedly be met by demands for
repression. The historical pattern certainly suggests that militarism is far from
dead in Latin America. Institutions such as the transnationally inﬂuential Catholic
Church and powerful national military forces will see it as their duty to inﬂuence
conﬂicts. As they did during the cold war, religious as well as military leaders will
need to rethink their roles in society. The Brazilian bishops and ofﬁcers of the
Bipartite testiﬁed to the fact that, in highly charged situations clouded by both
polarization and ambiguity, the solution begins with dialogue.

234

Notes

Chapter 1

1. On the public and the prophetic, see Casanova 1994, esp. ch. 5 on
Brazil; on Catholic political change see Bruneau 1974b.

2. The analyst is Mainwaring 1986:74—75, 149, 181. Even observers skep-
tical of religious motives for its anti-authoritarianism recognize the Church’s
contribution to democratic stabilization. See the work of rational choice
theorist Gill 1998:6.

3. My analysis here is echoed in part by de Groot 1996:148—49; also see
Gill 1998:48, 201. Previous scholars used little archival documentation,
either because it did not ﬁt with their methodologies or because they were
writing on the heel of events and did not have access to primary sources; see
the discussion of documentation below. One partial exception to these
trends was McDonough 1981. Conducting research at the height of the
repression, he examined relations within the Brazilian elite and revealed the
multidimensional nature of its ideology. However, he was unable to obtain
data on the military, and he does not name any of his 250 interviewees. For
examples of major writings on Church-state conﬂict during the military

‘regime, see Bruneau 1974b, 1982; Mainwaring 1986; Mainwaring and Wilde

1989; Casanova 1994; Alves 1979; Salem 1981; Alves 1985; Della Cava 1989;
Couto 1998; Skidmore 1988; Flynn 1978; R. Schneider 1991. Similarly, the
subject of secret dialogue is virtually absent from the research on redemoc—
ratization; for an exception, see Higley and Gunther 1992. For a good dis-
cussion of dialogue in the Chilean and Peruvian cases, see Fleet and Smith
1997:119—29, 277.

4. National security doctrine was more a rationale for than a cause of the
military regimes that ruled Brazil and other Latin American countries; see
Loveman 1999.

5. In the 1920s and 1930s, the Church had concordats with countries
such as Italy, Germany, Portugal, Poland, and Ecuador. These agreements
provided for legislation protecting Catholic norms in the family and educa-
tion, and they guaranteed the Church’s institutional freedom. They also
included special beneﬁts; see Beozzo 1986:338—4o.

6. See chapter 5 of the present work for further discussion.

7. On ecumenical relations, see Wright 1989257, 68-70; Berryman 1996.

235

Introduction

strengthening of civil society the Brazilian Church greatly inﬂuenced the political
liberalization that led to the military’s exit from power in 1985.2

This book presents a different view. It reafﬁrms the Church’s important role, but
it also questions certain assumptions, explores new dimensions of Church-state
relations, and rethinks the history of the military regime during its bloodiest peri-
od. The biggest assumption, implicit in practically all discussions of the authori-
tarian era, is that the Church and the armed forces only fought and had little or no
dialogue or attempts at cooperation. Writing during the regime or shortly there-
after, authors studied the dialectic of authoritarianism and opposition but did not
examine the interstices of state-opposition relations. They also showed a clear bias
toward the opposition. In short, they had little incentive to consider dialogue?’ '

This assumption is wrong, however. At the peak of the repression, just as the
Popular Church ﬁrst emerged, an important group of bishops and military leaders
held in secret a systematic series of meetings known as the Comissao Bipartite
(Bipartite Commission). The Bipartite reduced tensions, allowing Church and state
to coexist during the worst moment of their long and complex relationship.

The Bipartite began in late 1970 after the bishops received blunt conﬁrmation
that Church-state conﬂict involved not just Catholic radicals but the institution as
a whole. In September and October 1970, security agents invaded an important
Catholic study center and Church houses in Rio de Janeiro in the kind of sweep
against grassroots militants that had become routine after 1964. Once again priests
and activists were jailed and tortured. Visceral anti—Communists, most bishops had
welcomed the coup, and many looked askance at Catholic radicals, ignoring or
doubting their stories of torture. During this raid the security men mistreated sev-
eral important fathers, including the provincial head of the Jesuit order and the
president of Rio’s Catholic university. They detained one of the country’s leading
bishops, Dom Aloisio Lorscheider, the CNBB secretary general. The trend against
the Church was now unmistakable. The bishops, including the country’s ﬁve cardi-
nals, protested the violence and arbitrariness of the regime. The incident also
stirred condemnation from Catholics abroad, including Pope Paul VI.

Within weeks of the raid a group of bishops began to meet with a team of officers
headed by General Antonio Carlos da Silva Muricy. Although political considera-
tions and the climate of repression kept the talks secret and as informal as possible,
they were serious and regular. The Bipartite met more than two dozen times, start-
ing in November 1970 under President Emilio Garrastazu Médici (1969-1974) and
ending in August 1974 during the term of President Ernesto Geisel (1974-1979).

A mechanism such as the Bipartite was unnecessary under the ﬁrst military

Notes to Pages 6-13

8. On Kissinger, see Gaddis 1994, Golan 1976, Burr 1998. For other examples of back-
channel diplomacy, see Miner 1994.

9. Dietz 1992:242; Sanchez 1992:318. In the 1990s the Chilean military resorted to infor-
mal political contacts in an attempt to preserve its inﬂuence; see Weeks forthcoming.

10. A similar point is made in Crahan 1989:12 and Crahan 1999.

11. Lowden 1996:14—19; also see Gill 1998. For Gill (1998), the level of competition from
other religions was the single most important factor in leading the Catholic Church to
oppose dictatorship in Latin American countries during the 1960s and 1970s.

12. Hanson 1987:42—45; also see Lewy 1964:293—94; Cornwell1999.

13. Blancarte 1992:72—85; Loaeza—Lajous 19901283-87; Knight 1992.

14. Lowden 1996; Smith 1982; Fleet and Smith 1997.

15. On recent developments in religion and politics, see Serbin 2ooo, 1993a. For the Latin
American context see Sigmund 1999. There are many interpretations of the Church’s roll-
back from its radical positions in Brazil and elsewhere; see for example, Della Cava 1989;
Mainwaring 1986, ch. 11; Libanio 1983; Lernoux 1989; Ghio 1992; Beozzo 1994, ch. 4.

16. Grudin 1996:12—13; also see the theoretical considerations about Church-state bar-
gaining in Gill 1998249.

17. In Chile Cardinal Raul Silva Henriquez took a similar stance toward the Pinochet dic-
tatorship; see Lowden 1996:35—36. As Fleet and Smith (1997:119—29) point out, the public
nature of the dialogue in Chile reduced its effectiveness.

18. A similar situation occurred in Chile, where Catholic radicals opposed attempts by
Church leaders to negotiate with the government; see Fleet and Smith 19972119.

19. Alves 1973:156, 1979:12o. This View is echoed in Lernoux 1982:276, 301; Weschler 1998.

20. An alternative interpretation views the progressive movement as a populist strategy;
see Paiva 1985a.

21. D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro 1994a:13—31; also Dassin 1992:167; Loveman 1999, ch. 8.

22. One of the most celebrated examples is Gabeira 1979, which recounts ventures of the
revolutionary left, including the kidnapping of U.S. ambassador Burke Elbrick in September
1969. “O que é isso companheiro,” a controversial movie based on the book, was released in
May 1997. For critiques of the ﬁlm, see Reis Filho et al. 1997. For a discussion of memoirs by
leftists, see Ridenti 1997, esp. note 10; Dassin 1992.

23. Archdiocese of S50 Paulo 1985; for the English version see Dassin 1986. On the
research for the book see Weschler 1998; Wright 1989:7o—71. The Brasil: Nunca Mais project
was unique. In most other Latin American countries this kind of documentation has not
been available, let alone compiled by human rights organizations. One exception is the
extraordinary Centro de Documentacién y Archivo para la Defensa de los Derechos
Humanos, the so-called Archive of Terror, of Paraguayan dictator Alfredo Stroessner’s polit-
ical police, discovered in Asuncion in 1992. See chapter 8 for discussion of the relevance of
this archive for Brazil. In the tradition of the Nuremberg trials and other postwar judgments,
the end of military rule and civil wars in the 19803 and 1990s brought the creation of so-
called truth commissions. The commissions accounted for human rights abuses but did not
have the power to judge perpetrators. The exception was Argentina, where generals went to
jail for their role in the country’s “dirty war.” Brazil did not get a truth commission until
1996, and then only a very limited one, eleven years after the return to civilian rule and sev-
enteen years after the amnesty law that protected human rights violators from prosecution.
Before then, Brasil: Nunca Mais and groups such as Tortura Nunca Mais (Torture never
again) served as surrogate truth commissions. For a study of the Church’s secret gathering of

236

Notes to Pages 13-14

human rights information in Chile, see Lowden 1996:38—43, 75-84. On human rights viola-
tions in that country also see Report of the Chilean National Commission 1993. In 1998 General
Pinochet was detained in England, after a Spanish judge ﬁled extradition proceedings in an
attempt to prosecute him for human rights Violations.

24. For example, Abreu 1979; Mello 1979; Passarinho 1996. For ofﬁcer accounts, see the
interviews in D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro 1994a, 1994b; Soares, D’Araujo and Castro 1995;
D’Araujo and Castro 1997. V

25. The only exclusive treatments of the Médici era are in McDonough 1981; Silva and
Carneiro 1983; also see Fico 1997. A journalistic account is Drosdoff 1986. A very brief oral
history of Médici’s term is in Médici 1995. There are no biographies of Médici or works deal-
ing speciﬁcally with his administration. This is in contrast with General Humberto de
Alencar Castello Branco, the ﬁrst military president; see Viana Filho 1976; Dulles 1978, 1980.
On the administrations of Castello Branco and General Artur da Costa e Silva, the second
military president, see Mello 1979; Martins Filho 1995:29—30. For brief overviews of the
Médici period, see Skidmore 1988, Flynn 1978, Schneider 1991, Silva and Carneiro 1975.

26. For examples of this genre in U.S. history, see Branch 1988, Goodwin 1988. Lack of
good narrative has become an important item of discussion in the historical profession. For
an analysis of this problem, see Limerick 1993. The topic was most recently the subject of
debate at a panel titled “Journalists, Scholars, and Historical Writing” at the American
Historical Association’s 114th Annual Meeting, Chicago, Jan. 8, 2000. The importance of
narrative is a key question for a new generation of scholars that seeks to interpret the histo-
ry of the recent authoritarian period in Latin American history and its impact on current
political developments. For examples of this emerging literature, see, Wilde 1999; Bickford
1998.

27. The “soft-line Castellistas were virtually silenced, but still present,” states Alfred
Stepan (1988:40). On the Latin American military and patriotism, see Loveman 1999.

28. I have in mind Guillermo O’Donnell’s inﬂuential description of the Brazilian and
other South American military regimes as “bureaucratic-authoritarian.” Their guiding prin-
ciples were rationalization of the economy in favor of the elite and exclusion of the rest of the
populace from decision-making; see O’Donnell 1988:31—32. I think that O’Donnell’s analysis
is accurate as far as it goes. More recently, however, O’Donnell and others have been criti-
cized for emphasizing bureaucracy and ignoring the military character and intramilitary dis-
tinctions within this system; see Martins Filho 1995:18—28. McDonough (1981:xxvi) empha-
sizes the “internal heterogeneity” of Brazilian elite sectors. In addition, the regime was not
completely “bureaucratic” in the sense that it did not achieve the depoliticalization of the
society and the state (Hagopian 1996:1o7—o8; also B. Schneider 1991).

29. Médici considered starting the abertura at the end of his administration but opted
not to because of the continued activity of rural guerrillas; see, for example, Soares,
D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:47, 177, 260-61; Médici 1995:31—32, 49; also the discussion in
chapter 5 of the present work.

30. See, for example, Couto 1998:218. Likewise, as Loveman states, “The armed forces are
both part of society and apart from it” (1999:xiii).

31. This view is echoed by Loveman (1999:228): “Militarylore and doctrine shape and jus-
tify missions for . . . ofﬁcers just as revolutionary ideology does for guerrillas, and religious
and humanist values do for human rights organizations. Obviously, taking these values seri-
ously does not require sharing them.” See also S. Davis 1996.

32. The classic study of the Brazilian military is Stepan 1971. Stepan’s research is

237

Notes to Pages 15-17

unequaled. It makes many of the points raised here, but it is a sociological and rather
schematic political analysis of the military, not a historical narrative, which is the aim here.
Written before the Médici years, Stepan’s work does not address many of the themes treat-
ed here such as Church—military relations. On Latin American militaries’ beliefs about
democracy, see Loveman 1999; for an approach that emphasizes the functionality of the mil-
itary electoral system, see B. Schneider 1991, esp. 238-42.

33. Fleet and Smith similarly discuss a search for common ground during the difﬁcult
Church-led negotiations toward the National Accord in Chile. See Fleet and Smith
1997:122—23, 137, 156.

34. The best example is the Nicaraguan Revolution, which had the support of many in
the progressive Church, including Brazilian clerics such as Dom Pedro Casaldaliga. The over-
all history of the Latin American churches and the cold war can be found in Antoine 1999.
For a ﬁne overview of the secondary literature, see Klaiber 1997.

35. Hess and DaMatta 1995, Lewin 1987, Page 1995, Hagopian 1996.

36. Rodrigues 1982; Schmitter 1971, ch. 14; Cohen 1989; B. Schneider:245—47; Conniff and
McCann 1989a. Historically, Latin American societies have been extremely elitist, largely
because of their former colonial status. In the twentieth century, most Latin American coun-
tries have struggled to implant some form of democratic government. Yet the importance of
elites has continued. For an overview of Brazil’s elites, see Conniff and McCann 1989b. Elites
and elite conciliation have been an important theme in other parts of Latin America; see, for
example, P. Smith 1979, Wilde 1982. '

37. The power of the technocrats declined after the Médici administration because the
regime’s need to maintain a democratic facade and to obtain political legitimacy caused it to
turn once again to conservative politicians who could deliver votes from the traditional sys-
tem of Brazilian pork-barreling; see Hagopian 1996.

38. Like Knight (1992), I employ this concept of “elite settlement” very narrowly and
avoid the broad generalizations sought by political scientists.

39. On elite political expression, see McDonough 1981:15, 37, 175; also Almeida
1977343"44, 35437, 97- »

40. I attended this ceremony in October 1996. Academies of letters were the traditional
bastion of the Brazilian cultural elite, though they seem to have declined in importance; see
Conniff1989:27. On the origins of the academy, see Needell 1987:192—96.

41. Many might hope to ﬁnd here yet another contemporary View of Brazil’s vibrant pop-
ular religiosity and the religious transformations occurring at the base of Brazilian society.
Political scientists, anthropologists, sociologists, and others have produced a growing body
of literature from this perspective. See, among many examples, Ireland 1991; Sanchis 1992a,
1992b, 1992c; Burdick 1993; Mariz 1994; Chesnut 1997; Drogus 1997; Vasquez 1998; Nagle
1998. The present work does not negate this approach; in fact, it studies the elite in light of
struggles taking place at the grass roots. Nevertheless, the present work is distinctly histori-
cal and concerned with other, neglected facets of Brazilian religious life, especially mediation
among elites.

42. Cited in “Relatério do XVII encontro bipartite,” Arquivo Antonio Carlos Muricy,
Fundacao Getulio Vargas, Centro de Pesquisa e Documentagao de Historia Contemporanea
do Brasil (hereafter FGV/CPDOC/ACM), roll 2, doc. no. 43, p. 2 (microﬁlm).

43. The notion of cordiality originates in the classic work by Holanda 1948.

44. The most explicit reference to the Bipartite is in Gomes 1982:24o—5o. This work has
been overlooked by scholars. A very brief reference is also in Piletti and Praxedes 1997:397-

238

Notes to Pages 18-20

98, 413-14. Almeida and Bandeira (1996:6o—62, 74-75) incorrectly identify General Golbery
do Couto e Silva as the military leader of the Bipartite. See also Bandeira 1994:76—77;
“Murici, Antonio Carlos” 1984; Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987: 5:15-16; also indirect
references in Romano 1979:186—87; Arns 19782127; and Bittencourt and Markum 1979:63—64.
The most recent major English-language work on the Brazilian Church does not mention the
Bipartite; see Mainwaring 1986. In the Portuguese version of his book Bruneau (1974a:346)
alludes to attempts at dialogue but does not elaborate in detail or discuss the Bipartite.

45. I twice pressed the general on the whereabouts of these other minutes. He stated that
they were in military archives and could not be accessed. Author’s interviews with Antonio
Carlos da Silva Muricy, Rio de Janeiro, June 17, 1993, and July 14, 1995 (hereafter cited as
Muricy interview 1 and Muricy interview 2; full citations of all interviews are in the bibliog-
raphy). In 1997 I made other attempts to obtain the minutes, including contact with a for-
mer highly placed intelligence official, but I was unsuccessful. Padilha stated that he had
once kept copies of the minutes but lost them in a move to a new apartment (Padilha inter-
view 1). General Paciﬁco, the longtime secretary of the Bipartite, also stated that he kept no
copies (Paciﬁco interview). We can only speculate as to the content of the gap in Muricy’s
Bipartite papers. The missing papers perhaps included highly sensitive issues such as the
Barra Mansa deaths (see chapter 9 for a detailed discussion of this case). There is an ongo-
ing controversy between human rights activists and the military over whether the security
forces’ archives actually exist (see, for example, Couto 1998:29—3o, 113 n. 5). One former com-
mander of the CIE assured me that its archive is in Brasilia (Sampaio interview). The Tortura
Nunca Mais group also believes that such archives exist and has pressured the government
to open them. In addition, military ofﬁcers have private archives of regime materials (Togo
Meirelles Netto interview).

46. In addition (as discussed in chapter 5), secret recordings were made of two Bipartite
meetings. The whereabouts of the tapes is a mystery. General Paciﬁco stated that he did not
make any transcripts of tapes in preparing the Bipartite minutes. He prepared synopses of
the meetings based on notes (Paciﬁco interview).

47. In early 1999 the RioCentro case was reopened after military ofﬁcials admitted Army
responsibility for the explosion, ﬁrst attributed to left—wing terrorists.

48. For background on this archive, see APER] 1996a, 1996b; D. Davis 1996. The DOPS-
GB is held at the Arquivo Publico do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (APERJ). The DOPS material
is hereafter cited as APER]/DOPS-GB. The former federal capital of Rio de Janeiro became
the state of Guanabara in 1960 and remained so until its absorption by the state of Rio de
Janeiro in 1975. For background on the political police in Rio, see Cancelli 1993.

49. For background on this archive, see Pimenta 1995. The DEOPS-SP is housed in the
Arquivo do Estado de S50 Paulo (AESP). Hereafter the DEOPS holdings are cited as
AESP/DEOPS-SP.

50. In reality, the DOI units carried out the repression. The CODI was a meeting of secu-
rity chiefs from the police and the armed forces to plan missions; see Lagoa 1983:7o—71.
However, the term “DOI-CODI” is used widely by Brazilians and in the literature on the
regime to indicate the torture centers and will be employed throughout this work.
(Ironically, in Portuguese déi means “it hurts.”)

51. The Arquivo Ana Lagoa is located at the Universidade Federal de S50 Carlos. The
Brasil: Nunca Mais (BNM) collection is held at the Centro de Pesquisa e Documentagao
Social, Associagao Cultural Arquivo Edgard Leuenroth (AEL), Instituto de Filosoﬁa e
Ciéncias Humanas, Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Campinas, Sao Paulo. Hereafter

239

Notes to Pages 22-32

these materials are cited as AEL/BNM. BNM is also available on microﬁlm through the
Center for Research Libraries in Chicago. However, because there is no index to the more
than ﬁve hundred rolls of ﬁlm, it is difﬁcult to locate speciﬁc cases. CEDIC (Center for
Documentation and Scientiﬁc Information) is housed at the Pontificia Universidade
Catélica de S50 Paulo. It is subsequently cited as PUC-SP/CEDIC. For background on this
archive, see Khoury 1995. The Alceu Amoroso Lima center is in Petropolis. Located in Rome,
the private archive of the Argentine Embassy contains secret Argentine diplomatic reports
on the Brazilian Church-state conﬂict; I am grateful to Loris Zanatta of the Instituto per le
Scienze Religiose, Bologna, for copies. I thank Dom Waldyr Calheiros de Novaes for copies
of documents from his diocese’s archive in Volta Redonda. The Van der Weid papers are at
APERJ. The. Branca Alves documents are at the Biblioteca Cardeal Camara of the
Archdiocese of Rio de Janeiro. For background on Branca Alves, see chapter 4. The Instituto
Nacional do Pastoral is at the CNBB headquarters in Brasilia. The Arquivo do Itamaraty is
located in Brasilia. I am grateful to James Green for copies of documents fom this collection.

Chapter 2

1. The terms “military” and “Army” are used synonymously in this book because of the
greater role exercised by the Army in politics in comparison with the Air Force and the Navy.
References to all the military branches are designated as “armed forces” or “armed services.”

2. Priests control the Church despite being far outnumbered by nuns. In the early 1970s,
Brazil had thirteen thousand clergymen and thirty-eight thousand sisters.

3. Octavio Costa interview 1. Costa was a ﬁrst lieutenant in the FEB infantry.

4. On the “pious 195os,” see Della Cava 1976:11—12, 36, inc. note 51.

5. Serbin 1996. Dom Jaime Camara and Dom Hélder Camara were not related.

6. On the intelligence community, see Lagoa 1983. Ernesto Geisel noted that the DOI-
CODI units often had better intelligence than the SNI (D’Araujo and Castro 1997:369). The
CENIMAR had existed since the 1940s. CISA and CIE were created at the end of the 1960s.
In Sao Paulo, DOI-CODI was commonly known during the Médici years by the name of its
predecessor, the OBAN, or Operacao Bandeirantes (Amelinha interview). The bandeirantes
were the rugged, mestizo backwoodsmen of the colonial era who explored the interior,
searched for gold, and enslaved the natives for sale.

7. On right-wing terror, see Argolo, Ribeiro, and Fortunato 1996. Ridenti (1993:61—63)
dispels the myth that the revolutionary left planned guerrilla action only after the military
repression began.

8. The four “armies” refer to the geographical breakdown of Brazil’s Army commands.
The First was headquartered in Rio de Janeiro, the Second in Sao Paulo, the Third in Porto
Alegre, the Fourth in Recife.

9. “Brazil Program Analysis,” National Security Study Memorandum no. 67 (1969-1970),
National Security Archive, Washington, D.C. The memorandum, which resulted from a
presidential national security directive, was declassiﬁed in July 1997. For background on
such directives, see Richelson 1994.

10. “Civil war” is how at least some in the military leadership have called the conﬂict; see,
for example, D’Araujo and Castro 1997:223.

11. Those alone who testiﬁed to military tribunals about having been tortured numbered

240

Notes to Pages 3B-40

nearly two thousand. The total was probably far higher; see Archdiocese of Sao Paulo
1985:34-42, 87; also Amnesty International 1973.

12. Fico 1997; for additional background on Costa, see D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro
1994a:259—81.

13. Overall economic performance from 1964 to 1985 was actually below that of the dem-
ocratic period (1945-1964), thus nullifying the effects of the miracle years. For a critical
overview of the economy under the military, see Cysne 1994; also Baer 1995:73-88. For
descriptions of exploitation of the Amazon and growth in Sao Paulo, see Page 1995, chaps.
11-12. For the view of one of Castello Branco’s economic ministers, see Campos 1994, esp. ch.
12. On the arms industry, see Stepan 1988:82—87.

14. Couto 1998:39, 99, 116-17. On regime popularity, see Silva and Carneiro 1983:55;
McDonough 1981:237 n. 8; Cohen 1989:46—49; also Perlman 1976:175—79.

15. Serbin 1993b. On Brazilian Catholicism in the post-conciliar era, see Sanchis 1992a,
1992b, 1992c; on the clergy crisis, also see Casanova 19942125.

16. CNBB, “Reuniﬁo extraordinaria dos metropolitas,” CNBB/INP, doc. no. 4019.

17. Antoine 1970229-31 (quotation); Bruneau 1974b:12o—21; Mainwaring 1986:8o-81.

18. Piletti and Praxedes 1997:296—97, 302-03, 306, 319-20, 329, 342; also “Dom Helder:
pais livre com comunistas de fora,” Dicirio de Noticias, May 26, 1964.

19. See, for example, Almeida 1994:67; Kehl and Vannuchi1997:168. This afﬁrmation also
came in Candido Mendes interview 2; a similar aﬂirmation came in the Pretto and Marcos
Noronha interviews. See also Freire, Almada, and Ponce 19972257; Mainwaring 1986:83—84,
110; “Brazil Program Analysis,” National Security Study Memorandum no. 67 (1969-1970),
National Security Archive; B. Smith 1979:182.

20. This point and further conﬁrmation of the bishops’ hesitancy to admit torture came
in the Dom Amaury interview.

21. While the bishops stood farther from military interests than any other elite group, the
MDB was overall the most leftist in its political outlook; see McDonough 1981:127, 160,
176-78, 180-81.

22. Primeira Regiao Militar, “Boletim Reservado No. 6,” Dec. 2, 1967, FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 782, p. 2, doc. no. 783, p. 1.

23. Calliari 19962639; Comissao de Familiares 1996:98—10o. For Dom Hélder, see Cirano
1983; Ferrarini 1992. On the denial of the prize, see Piletti and Praxedes 1997:378, 381-84, 388,
392.

24. For sources on this case and discussion of it at the Bipartite, see chapter 6.

25. Centro Ecuménico 1979. The most detailed presentation of Church-regime conﬂict is
Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987. On censorship of the Church, see also Smith 1997.

26. “Dossier PCB,” c. 1949, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Politico,” pasta 3B, p. 610.

27. Heitor Corréa Maurano was a career DOPS-GB officer and headed its information
division during the Médici government.

28. See, for example, “Boletim Reservado,” no. 6, March 11, 1974, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor
“Boletim Reservado,” pasta 1, p. 1; also APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “DGIE,” pasta 247; Piletti
and Praxedes 1997, ch. 37.

29. See, for example, Francisco Eugenio Santiago, “S50 Paulo por dentro,” Relatério no.
1.374, Feb. 16, 1971, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor 34, pasta 1, p. 405. The DOPS-GB ﬁle on Dom
Paulo includes tapes of a speech given by the archbishop in Volta Redonda; see
APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Municipios,” pasta 152, p. 2766B.

241

Notes to Pages 40-43

30. “Dom Hélder Cﬁmara,” Feb. 15, 1969, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 39, pp.
197-99. This report inaccurately charged that Dom Hélder did not give an accounting of
public funds spent at the 1955 Eucharistic Congress. In fact, the Church published a ﬁnancial
report (see XXXVI Congresso 1955). The exact origins of the document are unclear. According
to O Estado de Sdo Paulo (OESP), it was written by the conservative Father Alvaro
Negromonte and was discovered among his belongings after his death in 1964. There is also
evidence, however, that the police had produced the document by consulting with Dom
Hélder’s clerical enemies, held it for years, and then leaked it. For instance, one marginal
note indicates that the police intended to submit it for “evaluation by Father Negromonte.”
In another, the initials “DJ.” suggest that Dom Jaime may also have been consulted. In gen-
eral, however, DOPS-GB agents received little help from conservatives in the repression
against progressives. For discussion of the OESP usage, see Piletti and Praxedes 1997, ch. 38;
Cirano, 1983:245.

31. See, for example, Ministério de Exército, I Exército, Pedido de Busca no. 129/ 74-E,
March 11, 1974, “Assunto: Dom Eugénio de Araﬁjo Sales, Arcebispo do Rio de Janeiro,”
APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 2oo, p. 295.

32. “Boletim Reservado,” no. 5, March 8, 1974, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “Boletim
Reservado,” pasta 1, p. 26; Protocolo 6550/71-DI, APER]/DOPS-GB, Nov. 12, 1971, setor
“DOPS,” pasta 183, p. 430 (quotation).

33. See, for example, Divisao de Operacoes, Secao de Buscas Especiais, Informagao no.
063, Aug. 24, 1971, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 153, pp. 144-51. One priest who
traveled frequently from his base in Rio Grande do Sul to points throughout Brazil was
always followed by DOPS ofﬁcers (Orestes Stragliotto interview).

34. See the discussion of the Movimento Popular de Libertagao in chapter 8.

35. Ministério da Guerra, Io. Exército, 1a. Regiao Militar, Estado Maior da 2a. Segao,
Pedido de Busca no. 215/66, Oct. 27, 1966, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 10, pp.
238-42.

36. Ministério do Exército, I Exército, 2a. Segao, Informagao no. 1022 CH/ 69, “Assunto:
situagao do IPM sobre atividades subversivas na Igreja Catélica,” APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor
“Secreto,” pasta 48, p. 90.

37. Secretaria de Estado de Seguranca Publica, “lnformagao No. 114/77/DPPS/RJ/
Interior,” May 4, 1977, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “DGIE,” pasta 247, pp. 296E—L.

38. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:2:144; on rings see also Piletti and Praxedes
19973325-

39. Ministério da Justica, DPF-DR/ GB, “Assunto: Francisco Rocha Guimaraes (Padre),”
Sept. 27, 1973, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 123, pp. 23-25.

40. Protocolo 6550/ 71-DI, APERJ/DOPS-GB, Nov. 12, 1971, setor “DOPS,” pasta 183, pp.
429-36 (quotation). Secretaria de Estado de Seguranga Publica, DPPS/R]/Interior,
Informagao no. 114/77/DPPS/R]/Interior, April 5, 1977, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “DGIE,”
pasta 247, pp. 296E—L (quotation). In the 1980s DOPS agents spied on the CEBS; see
APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DGIE,” pasta 247B. CIE, “Assunto: Missa Leiga,” 1972,
APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor 25, pasta 177, pp. 243-44 (“brothel”).

41. DOPS-GB, Divisao de Operagoes, Servico de Buscas, Secoes de Buscas Especiais,
Informe no. 0145-05, “Guerra Revolucionéria,” “Assunto: A Igreja e o estado,” APER]/DOPS-
GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 86, pp. 269-73. Tupi-Guarani was an amalgam of native languages
created by the Jesuits to facilitate communication with and among the indigenous peoples of
colonial Brazil.

242

Notes to Pages 43-54

42. For Umbanda, see Brown 1994:128, 162-64, 186-87; also Della Cava 1985:168—69. For
the Pentecostals, see Chesnut 1995, ch. 9. For the Presbyterian Church, see Cavalcanti 1992.
For a discussion of similar tactics in Chile, see Lowden 1996:45.

43. Ministério do Exército, Io. Exército, 2a. Segao, “Assunto: inﬁltracao de comunistas em
seminarios catélicos,” April 13, 1971, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 86, p. 275. The
regime also tried to blackmail bishops believed to be homosexual (Evilasio de Jesus inter-
view).

44. Pretto interview. As discussed in chapter 8, nonprogressive clergy also aided refugees.
For another example, see Kehl and Vannuchi 1997.

45. Dom Waldyr interview. For details on Father Nathanael’s imprisonment, see
Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:2:148-62.

46. Ernanne Pinheiro interview. Prostitutes provided the Church accurate information in
other areas of Brazil as well (Luiz Viegas interview 2).

47. Dom Paulo interview. The ultimate act of counterintelligence was the BNM project’s
acquisition of documents from the military courts proving the existence of torture (see chap-
ter 1).

48. Queiroz 1994:41; Barros 1994a:17o; information also from Virgilio Leite Uchoa inter-
view 2.

49. Luiz Viegas interviews 1 and 2. On the Church and human rights, see chapters 8, 9,
and 10.

50. Luiz Viegas interview 2. Dom Hélder was criticized by the right, which unsuccessﬁ1l-
ly attempted to link his sources to a Communist conspiracy; see, for example, Prandini,
Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:3:35.

51. Cardoso et al. 1975; on opposition intellectuals and their cooperation with the
Church, see Leoni 1997, ch. 9.

Chapter 3

1. “Centenario do General Iosé Candido da Silva Muricy,” Dicirio do Paranci, Aug. 11,
1963.

2. Cortes de Lacerda was Dom Hélder’s archivist in the 1940s; see Bandeira 1994280.

3. Muricy 1993:7, 65, 304 (quotation), 593. On Catholic teachings on sex and procreation,
see Pierucci 1978. Information about the confessor role from Padilha interview 1.

4. No title, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 581, p. 2; doc. nos. 582-83.

5. Muricy interview 1; and see Ministério do Exército, Estado-Maior do Exército, 2a.
Subcheﬁa—2a. Secao, “Assunto: terrorismo,” Nov. 4, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 652, p. 1.

6. The assault and the police search for the suspects, ﬁnally caught, made headlines for
weeks in Rio’s newspapers. See, for example, “General Muricy é baleado no coragao por
assaltante,” jornal do Brasil (JB), Feb. 18, 1979, sec. 1. According to this report, the bullet had
become lodged in the pericardium, the sack surrounding the heart. General Muricy died in
March 2000 at the age of 93.

7. “Centen:irio do General José Candido da Silva Muricy,” Dicirio do Paranci, Aug. 11, 1963.

8. This paragraph and the remainder of this section are based on Muricy 1993 and
“Murici, Antonio Carlos” 1984.

9. For Muricy’s pay receipts, see FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, docs. nos. 78-84.

243

Notes to Pages 55-61

10. Dom Vicente Scherer to Antonio Carlos da Silva Muricy, Porto Alegre, Oct. 12, 1961,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. 3oo, p. 2.

11. The texts of Muricy’s speeches are in Muricy 1971; on this incident see also Dulles
1978:281—83.

12. Muricy 1993:46o—5o3, 540; information on Muricy’s good relations within the Army
also from Moraes Rego interview. '

13. Muricy 1993:5o9—46; also Muricy, “O Destacamento Tiradentes e o 31 de marco de
1964,” O Globo, March 25, 1979, p. 6.

14. Muricy 1993:344—48; information on Catholic Action came from Virginia Ramos da
Silva Muricy interview.

15. Muricy 1993:441; IV Exército, 7a. Regiao Militar, “Instrugao teérica de oﬁciais sobre
guerra insurrecional,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 323-48. A similar situation exist-
ed in the United States until the Kennedy administration; see Huggins 19982102.

16. Muricy, “A guerra revolucionaria e a agao decisiva dos civis,” in Muricy 19712158, 181,
182, 183-84 (quotations). ’

17. “Movimento de Cultura Popular do Recife (consideracoes do Gen. . . . Muricy),”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, docs. 362A, 363.

18. According to Dom Waldyr, at the time President Castello Branco considered Dom
Eugenio to be Brazil’s most dangerous bishop (Dom Waldyr interview). On drought, see also
Callado 1964:21.

19. The comment was made by Rosita Teixeira de Mendonca, a psychiatrist who investi-
gated human rights abuses in Recife, cited in Alves 1967:93. For a description of incidents of
violence and torture in the Northeast, see also Alves 1968, 1973.

20. “Murici, Antonio Carlos,” 1984:2352; Muricy 1993:553—54, 557, 559-60.

21. FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 8oo, p. 4. In this document the phrase “por ofi-
cio do General Muricy” (by order of General Muricy) is discernible beneath an inked-out
phrase that suggests someone, perhaps the general himself, tried to cover up his involvement
in the Meneses arrest.

22. Muricy 1993:548—53, 564-65; on Muricy’s opposition to torture, see Alves 1967:57,
61-63.

23. Virginia Ramos da Silva Muricy interview; for a former Communist’s testimony to
the aid offered by the Muricys, see Pomar and Melleiro 1997:363—64. Dom Hélder further
conﬁrmed Muricy’s assistance; see Piletti and Praxedes 1997:3o6.

24. Alves 1967; also Paulo Rehder, “General Ernesto Geisel nao ouviu todos os presos
politicos do Recife,” ]B, Sept. 20, 1964. For Muricy’s version of the Geisel visit, see Muricy
1993:564—65. See also “O General Murici contesta as noticias sobre violéncias e presos no
Nordeste,” O Globo, Sept. 21, 1964, p. 11; “Murici para tortura de presos no Nordeste,”
Tribuna da Imprensa, Sept. 23, 1964; “Murici assume 1a. RM e diz que ha paz no Nordeste
gragas 5 atuagao da 7a. RM,” JB, Sept. 30, 1966, p. 7.

25. See, for example, Frei Luiz Gonzaga da Silva to Muricy, Nova Iguagu, May 21, 1966,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 777.

26. In his autobiography Castello Branco’s Minister of Planning and Economic
Coordination Roberto Campos states that he had tried to convince the president to name
Dom Hélder as Minister of Agrarian Reform in order to “discipline his radicalism” by expos-
ing him to “reality.” Castello Branco declined, stating that Dom Hélder had “no affinity with
the Revolution” (Campos 1994:694—95). There is no mention of this offer, however, in the

244

Notes to Pages 62-70

most complete biographical work on Dom Helder to date; see Piletti and Praxedes 1997. It is

also absent from Viana Filho 1976.

27. General Muricy claimed that Dom Hélder had promised to say the mass, but Dom
Hélder’s biographers demonstrate that there was no such promise. Muricy further asserted
that the two men did not speak again. In referring to press reports in which Dom Hélder stat-
ed that the two men did speak, Muricy called Dom Hélder a “liar.” For Muricy’s account of
this incident, see Muricy 1993:551, 553, 559-60, 581, 587-88, 591-95; for Dom Hélder’s per-
spective, see Piletti and Praxedes 1997:33o—33, 335-37, 340-41. In interviews 1 and 3 Muricy
in 1993 and 1997 admitted that he still felt the hurt of his rupture with Dom Hélder and
expressed a desire for reconciliation.

28. For a discussion of Muricy’s promotion, see Flynn 1978:381.

Chapter 4

1. Mello 1979:869; also Schneider 1971:375; Muricy 1993:638—41.

2. Barboza 1992:161—62; Mello 1979:865; also see subsequent statements by Muricy in
“Guerra revolucionéria,” Olornal, Aug. 17, 1969; “Murici chama atencao para guerrilha,”]B,
Aug. 26, 1969; “A voz do Exército,” Veja, Aug. 5, 1970. Muricy’s positions gave rise to a popu-
lar rhyme:  a lei do Muricy/Cada um cuida de si” (The law of Muricy:/ Every man for him-
self). This saying was later recorded in a song performed by the Brazilian rock group Blitz.

3. “Muricy: plenitude democratica nao é sinonimo de democracia liberal,” O Globo, Dec.
9, 1970, p. 14.

4. Dom Eugénio interview. This point is developed in greater detail below and in
chapter 8.

5. Dom Eugénio de Araujo Sales to General Muricy, Salvador, Jan. 5, 1967,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 783, p.1.

6. Bruneau 1974b:172—73, 218-19. For a discussion of the subsequent theological tenor of
the archdiocese of Rio de Janeiro under Dom Eugenio, see Peritore 1989. This study con-
cludes that liberation theology was accepted in the archdiocese, with the exception of its
deemphasis on Church hierarchy.

7. Piletti and Praxedes 1997:296; also “Bispos fazem apélo para que os presos sejam trata-
dos com humanidade,” Ojornal, April 15, 1964.

8. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:2:1o6—o9; Mello 1979:598—99.

9. Dom Eugenio interview. For subsequent examples of Dom Eugénio’s resistance, see
chapter 8.

1o. Quotations in this and the following paragraphs are from Dom Eugenio to Muricy,
Salvador, Dec. 25, 1968, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 784, p. 2.

11. Quotations in this and the following paragraphs are from Muricy to Dom Eugenio,
Rio de Janeiro, Dec. 27, 1968, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 784, 785. '

12. Dom Eugenio to Muricy, Salvador, April 7, 1969, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 789, pp. 1-2. The background on Sulik and his jailing also comes from Tibor Sulik
interview 1; for the police ﬁle on Sulik, see Ministério do Exército, Io. Exército, Pedido de
Busca no. 34/ 74-SCh, Jan. 18, 1974, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 200, pp. 183-91.

13. “Entrevista do Cardeal D. Agnelo Rossi,” Servigo de Documentagcio (SEDOC), 3 (July
197o):1o5.

245

Introduction

president, Humberto de Alencar Castello Branco (1964-1967), because the bishops
generally supported the regime and took their complaints directly to the president,
a loyal and practicing Catholic (Piletti and Praxedes 1997:319). Civil liberties, free-
dom of the press, and political debate still existed. Under President Artur da Costa
e Silva (1967-1969) the regime hardened and attacks on the opposition and the
Church intensiﬁed, leading to more formal Church-state dialogue and eventually
the Bipartite under Médici. Geisel abolished the commission because he wanted to
avoid legitimating the more contentious CNBB leadership, which participated at
the Bipartite. Moreover, the bishops welcomed Geisel’s plan for political liberaliza-
tion and looked forward to a more open dialogue.

Key representatives of both sides took part at the Bipartite. General Muricy was
the Army chief of staff and had helped stage the military takeover of 1964. He was
a devout Catholic. He organized and ran the Bipartite with Médici’s approval.
Muricy’s team included a general, a vice admiral, and ofﬁcials from the Servigo
Nacional de Informagoes (SNI; National Information Service), a Brazilian version
of a domestic CIA—cum-FBI mainly concerned with internal subversion, and from
the Centro de Informacoes do Exército (CIE; Army Information Center), an intelli-
gence unit that played a major role in defeating the armed left. Thus the bishops
faced men from the very agencies that led the repression. Muricy’s team also
included proregime civilians. The most notable was Tarcisio Meirelles Padilha, a
Catholic philosopher, member of the Federal Education Council, and secretary of
the Associagao dos Diplomados da Escola Superior de Guerra (ADESG; National
War College Alumni Association), of which Muricy was president. The military’s
nerve center, the Escola Superior de Guerra (ESG) helped hatch the coup and
through its anti-Communist doctrine of national security provided the regime with
ideological justiﬁcationf‘

The Church’s delegation included the most inﬂuential bishops from across the
political spectrum. Some had strong ties to the military, but others—such as Dom
Aloisio and his cousin Dom lvo Lorscheiter, a highly vocal critic of the regime-
held moderate and even progressive positions. In fact, the increasingly progressive
CNBB leaders were the most important Church intermediaries at the Bipartite.
Another key ﬁgure was Candido Antonio José Francisco Mendes de Almeida,
known simply as Candido Mendes. He was a prominent intellectual and layman,
the CNBB’s assistant for social affairs, and the secretary general of the Pontificia
Comissiio Justica e Paz—Secao Brasileira (CJP-BR; Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice
Commission—Brazilian Section). Muricy, Padilha, and Candido Mendes were the
architects of the Bipartite.

Notes to Pages 70-73

14. Ambassador Pedro J. Frias to Juan B. Martin, Minister of Foreign Relations and
Religion, Rome, April 4, 1970, Archivo de la Embajada de la Republica Argentina ante la
Santa Sede (Archive of the Argentine Embassy to the Holy See, hereafter cited as AEAASS),
Santa Sede 84.

15. Dom Benelli quoted in Frias to Nicanor Costa Mendez, Minister of Foreign Relations
and Religion, Rome, May 19, 1969, AEAASS, MREC 154; also see Frias to Méndez, Rome,
May 12, 1969, AEAASS, MREC 154. S

16. Osvaldo M. Brana to Alberto J. Vignes, Minister of Foreign Relations and Religion,
Rome, Aug. 31, 1973, AEAASS, Santa Sede 366.

17. Frias to Martin, Rome, Jan. 29, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 344.

18. For José Jobim, see Frias to Martin, Rome, April 4, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 84;
Ambassador Santiago de Estrada to Luis Maria de Pablo Pardo, Minister of Foreign
Relations and Religion, Rome, Feb. 18, 1971, AEAASS, Santa Sede 43. For Paul VI, see Estrada
to Pardo, Rome, Oct. 23, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 268.

19. Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Oct. 23, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 268; on Dom Agnelo’s
attempts to change Brazil’s image, see also chapter 7.

20. Estrada to Pardo, Oct. 30, 1970, Rome, AEAASS, Santa Sede 273; Estrada to Pardo,
Rome, Nov. 6, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 281 and appendix; Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Aug.
21, 1971, AEAASS, Santa Sede 220 and appendix.

21. Frias to Martin, Rome, Jan. 29, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 27.

22. Frias to Martin, Rome, July 25, 1969, AEAASS, Santa Sede 234.

23. Unedited transcript of interview with Mario Gibson Barboza, 1981, FGV/CPDOC,
tape 58, side 1.

24. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:35; Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Oct. 30, 1970,
AEAASS, Santa Sede 275.

25. Frias to Martin, Rome, Jan. 29, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 27.

26. Frias to Martin, Rome, July 25, 1969, AEAASS, Santa Sede 234; also Piletti and
Praxedes 1997, ch. 36; Della Cava 19852118; Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Aug. 20, 1971, AEAASS,
Santa Sede 220 (one observer).

27. Untitled document discussing Branca Alves’s appointment, n.d. (probably 1968),
Biblioteca Cardeal Camara, Branca de Mello Franco Alves Collection (hereafter cited as
BMFA), pasta “Correspondéncia s/nomeagao para 0 conselho de leigos.” See also
“Consilium de Laicis. Plenary Session XII. October 1-8, 1973. Group on Women in Society
and the Church,” BMFA, pasta “Promogio da mulher—XIa. S—outubro 1972-1973,” doc.
no. AG/XII/ 6871. For further background on Branca Alves, see “O sepultamento de Branca
Alves” 1978; “Branca Alves levanta a situacao do laicato no Brasil para 0 Vaticano,” ]B, July
30, 1973. On the Council, see BMFA, pasta “Regulamento do Conselho de Leigos.”

28. Untitled document, Nov. 25, 1971, BMFA, pasta “IXa. sessa0—marco 1971.”

29. “Rapport du voyage en Amérique Latine de Mgr Uylenbroeck (du 14 mai au 1er juin
1970),” BMFA, pasta “8a. sess§0——outubr0 1970.” See also Frias to Martin, Rome, March 26,
1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 72.

30. “Consilium de Laicis. VIIIeme Session Pléniére. 1-10 octobre 1970,” BMFA, pasta “8a.
sess§o—0utubro 1970.” For other examples of Branca Alves’s reports to the council, see
“Tour d’h0riz0n,” BMFA, pasta “Xlla. Sessﬁo”; “Travail des laics. Brésil,” BMFA, pasta
“Conselho—Ama. Lata. 1974.”

31. Letter (author’s name illegible) to Branca de Mello Franco Alves, Rome, Feb. 4, 1969,
BMFA, pasta “Consilium,” doc. no. 250/ 69/ M14.

246

Notes to Pages 73-79

32. Branca Alves to Cardinal Jean Villot, Vatican secretary of state, Rome [?], March 11,
1970, BMFA, pasta “Consilium de Laicis——VII sess§o—margo 1970.”

33. Dom Waldyr interview; and see Della Cava 1985:45, 57; Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:2:142—43; Calliari 1996:613—14. Later, however, Baggio gave an interview in which
he alluded to Dom Hélder’s positions as “extremist”; see Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Aug. 20,
1971, AEAASS, Santa Sede 220 and appendix.

34. Frias to Nicanor Costa Méndez, Minister of Foreign Relations and Religion, Rome,
April 22, 1969, AEAASS, MREC 122. '

35. On Alceu, see Almeida et al. 1993; Almeida 1996a, ch. 1; Ferreira and Soares 1984;
“Alceu: 85 anos” 1978; Lima 1973; Vilaga 1983; for the vast bibliography by and about Alceu,
see Alceu Amoroso Lima 19.87.

36. For Alceu’s columns, see Lima 1964 (which contains the piece titled “Terrorismo cul-
tural,” 232—33), 1965, 1968, 1969, 1974, 1977.

37. Alceu Amoroso Lima to Dom Aloisio Lorscheider, Fazenda de S50 Lourengo, June 26,
1969, Centro Alceu Amoroso Lima para a Liberdade (hereafter cited as CAALL), pasta no. 46
(Lo a L2).

38. Frias to Martin, Rome, Jan. 29, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 27.

39. Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Oct. 30, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 275; Estrada to Pardo,
Rome, Dec. 11, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 320; also Frias to Martin, Rome, Jan. 29, 1970,
AEAASS, Santa Sede 27. For Alceu’s views on the commission at the time, see Lima
1974:169-72; 1973:316—22.

4o. Dom Eugenio to Branca Alves, Salvador, June 19, 1970, CAALL, pasta no. 26 E/ 2.

41. Dom Vicente Scherer to Alceu, Porto Alegre, July 7, 1970, CAALL, pasta no. 39.

42. Alceu to Dom Eugénio, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 10, 1970, CAALL, pasta no. 26 E/ 2.

43. See, for example, Silva and Carneiro 1983:35—36; Della Cava 1985.

44. On Dom Eugénio’s prestige in the military, see chapter 5. Because he preferred
behind-the-scenes contacts, the cardinal shrugged off requests to become an official media-
tor between Church and state.

45. Information on Sobral Pinto from Dom Eugenio interview. Ministério do Exército,
Gabinete do Ministro, Centro de Informagoes do Exército, Informagfio no. 226oS/1o2-S3-
CIE, “Assunto: ‘A Cruz,”’ APERJ/DOPS—GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 181, p. 185 (quotation).
Alceu to Dom Eugenio, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 10, 1970, CAALL, pasta no. 26 E/ 2. For ﬁirther
examples of Dom Eugénids support for human rights, see chapter 8; also Gaspari 1997b. On
private contacts between the Chilean bishops and the military, see Lowden 1996:35—36.

46. “Muricy aponta aliciamento de jovens para o terror,” /13, July 20, 1970, p. 5; “Muricy:
a juventude é vitima de complé,” OESP, Nov. 12, 1971, p. 4; “Muricy analisa pesquisa com
subversivos presos,”]B, Nov. 12, 1971; “Muricy: recuperar jovens que se desviaram é a grande
tarefa,” O Globo, Nov. 12, 1971. For a critical overview of the studies commissioned by Muricy,
see Coimbra 1995:196—2o4.

47. Coimbra 1995:2o2; Euripides Cardoso de Menezes, “Psicoterapia para os sub-
versivos,” speech in the Camara dos Deputados (1970), FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
692.

48. “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 975, p. 1.

49. The allegations of torture came from former political prisoners interviewed by
Coimbra 1995:2o2—o3; Coimbra does not name these interviewees. Muricy vehemently
denied Coimbra’s assertions in Muricy interview 3. Before the publication of her book,
Coimbra gave a newspaper interview in which she referred to Muricy’s request for research

247

Notes to Pages 79-84

on prisoners; see Cezimbra 1992. See chapter 3 of the present work for a discussion of
Muricy’s attempts to free political prisoners in 1964.

50. Muricy, “O Brasil e seu Exército,” Portuguese draft of article, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll
1, doc. nos. 199-207; Muricy 1972.

51. Dom Eugenio to Muricy, Salvador, May 8, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
798, pp. 1-2; Father Eugenio Alberto Collard to Dom Eugenio, Salvador, April 28, 1970,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 799, p. 1, and newspaper clippings and radio transcript,
pp. 2-3.

52. Dom Eugenio to Muricy, Salvador, May 8, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
798, pp. 1-2. On foreign missionaries, see also Dom Eugenio to Foreign Minister Mario
Gibson Barboza, Salvador, May 4, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 798, p. 3.

53. For details of the May 1970 assembly, see Alves 1979:189-91. Alves states that it was
Dom Aloisio who charged Candido Mendes with the investigation of torture, but Candido
Mendes (interview 2) affirmed that it was Dom Eugénio. The fact that Dom Eugenio had ear-
lier proposed a “private investigation” of torture to General Muricy further suggests that he
was behind the inquiry, although it is not clear whether the private probe was one and the
same with the Candido Mendes action. There is another discrepancy: Alves maintains that
Dom Eugenio determined the withdrawal of Candido Mendes’s documentation from the
assembly to avoid a leak to the press, whereas Candido Mendes (interview 2) asserted that
the decision was made not by Dom Eugenio but by the assembly. Candido Mendes’s work
also made its way to the Vatican; see Antoine 19702259 n. 10.

54. Mainwaring 1986:111; for a skeptical interpretation, see Alves 1979:189—90.

55. Dom Eugenio to Muricy, Salvador, July 15, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
800, p. 2; see pp. 1, 3, 4, for the Army Ministry documents. The documentation does not
indicate how or if Dom Eugenio used this information.

56. On Medici, the Eucharistic Congress meetings, and their impact, see Prandini,
Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:22—26. Dom Eugenio to Muricy, Salvador, July 15, 1970,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 800, p. 2.

57. “Declaraciones de Monseﬁor Aristides Pirovano publicadas en ‘Avvenire’ del
21.3.1971,” appendix to letter from Estrada to Pardo, Rome, April 2, 1971, AEAASS, Santa
Sede 87.

58. Estrada to Pardo, Rome, Oct. 27, 1971, AEAASS, Santa Sede 307. Concerned with pro-
tecting Brazi1’s image abroad, Dom Mozzoni also discouraged Dom Pedro Casaldaliga from
publishing a letter on the oppression of the poor of Brazil’s countryside (Tierra 1997:381).

Chapter 5

1. See also “Médici lembra o seu pai ao ser recebido na Santa Casa,”]B, Oct. 1, 1970, sec.
1, p. 3.

2. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:2:43—47; also see Bruneau 1974a:346.

3. Frias to Martin, Rome, April 4, 1970, AEAASS, Santa Sede 84 (]0bim); Estrada
to Pardo, Rome, Aug. 20, 1971, AEAASS, Santa Sede 220 and appendix (Baggio).

4. FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 788, pp. 1-2; doc. no. 898, p. 2; doc. no. 899, p. 1.
“Encontro tripartite,” Renovagcio (Porto Alegre) 22 (May 1969): 16-17. Information on the
Tripartite comes also from the Octavio Costa interview 1; Pereira 1996.

248

Notes to Pages 84-87

5. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:39—4o (quotation). On technocrats and the
military versus the Church, see McDonough 1981:1o3—o4, 241.

6. Dom Hélder continued to embrace the idea of economic development through
Church-state cooperation until the early 1970s, when he and other bishops adopted the con-
cept of liberation as the solution to poverty. On this point and Dom Hélder’s emphasis on
dialogue, see Piletti and Praxedes 1997:319—20, 353-54 (quotes), 410; also “Comandante do
Quarto Exército visitou D. Hélder,” jomal do Comércio, Aug. 25, 1966, p. 2.

7. “Brazil Program Analysis,” National Security Study Memorandum no. 67 (1969-1970),
National Security Archive, annex D, p. 31; also see Silva 1984:463.

8. The weekly CNBB bulletin, Noticias (Rio de Janeiro) Oct. 16, 1970; information on
priests’ activities from Pretto and Prigol interviews.

9. Passarinho 1996:341, 382-83. For background on IBRADES, see Doimo 1995:163, 171.

10. This assessment is shared by Muraro 1985:75—76.

11. Dom Agnelo Rossi, Dom Carlos Carmelo de Vasconcelos Motta, Dom Vicente
Scherer, Dom Eugénio Sales, and Dom Jaime de Barros Camara to General Emilio
Garrastazu Médici, Sao Paulo, Oct. 8, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 845, p. 1. For
CNBB leadership, see “Bispos encerram no Zacarias reuniao extraordinéria da Comissao
Central da CNBB,” ]B, sec. 1, p. 4 (quotation); also Noticias, Oct. 9, 16, 1970; “Projeto de
declaragao dos bispos,” SEDOC 3 (Feb. 1971): 985-86.

12. “Papa condena terror e violéncia mundial,” ]B, Oct. 22, 1970, sec. 1, p. 2 (Pope Paul
VI); “Médici acusa os exilados pela imagem do Brasil,” ]B, Oct. 21, 1970, sec. 1, p. 3;
“Incidentes com 0 clero irritam o Presidente,” ]B, Oct. 16, 1970, sec. 1, p. 6.

13. Dom Lucas Moreira Neves to the Brazilian bishops, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 30, 1970,
PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9. See also “CNBB faz gestoes por religiosos,”]B, Oct. 24, 1970, sec.
1, p. 7; “CN BB dé apoio total a Fragoso,”]B, Nov. 12, 1970, see. 1, p. 4; “Dom Alberto ainda nao
viu presos,” JB, Nov. 13, 1970, sec. 1, p. 13. Trevisan contacts noted in Dom Mario interview.

14. Father Celso José Pinto da Silva, assistant secretary, CNBB National Secretariat for the
Lay Apostolate, to Colonel Vieira Ferreira, CODI commander, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 14, 1970,
PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9; “Dom Jaime conﬁrma prisao pelo DOPS de trés padres e teve
encontro com Siseno,” ]B, Oct. 1, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4. While the combat of subversion was the
main reason for the First Army’s attacks on JOC and IBRADES, an additional explanation
circulated among Church militants: General Sizeno Sarmento wanted to create difﬁculties
for the Médici government in revenge for his having lost the 1969 internal military race for
president. This version given in Prigol interview.

15. Silva to Monsignor Marcel Uylenbroeck, secretary, Pontiﬁcal Council for the Laity,
Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 24, 1970, PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9; Dom Lucas to the Brazilian bish-
ops, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 30, 1970, PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9.

16. “Dom Jaime conﬁrma prisao pelo DOPS de trés padres e teve encontro com Siseno,”
]B, Oct. 1, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4 (quotation). Dom Lucas to the Brazilian bishops, Rio de Janeiro,
Oct. 23, 1970, PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9; “Relato de fatos da Vida jocista (197o),” PUC-
SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 21; also Calliari 1996:633.

17. Dom Lucas Moreira Neves to General Emilio Garrastazu Médici, Rio de Janeiro, Oct.
2, 1970, PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9.

18. OESP cited in Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:37. See also “Bispos V50
reunir-se na quinta-feira,” ]B, Oct. 11-12, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4; “Bispos instalam amanha reuniﬁo
extraordinaria no Colégio Maria Zacarias,” ]B, Oct. 14, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4.

249

Notes to Pages 87-92

19. “Emissario revela deseja do governo,”]B, Oct. 17, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4; “Dom Avelar rev-
ela apreensao entre bispos,”]B, Oct. 16, 1970, sec. 1, p. 4.

20. “Relato de fatos da Vida jocista (197o),” PUC—SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 21; Dom Lucas to
the Brazilian bishops, Rio de Janeiro, Oct. 23, 1970, PUC—SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9.

21. “Relato de fatos da Vida j ocista (197o),” PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 21; Father Celso José
Pinto da Silva to Enrique del Rio, JOC International ofﬁcial, Rio de Janeiro, Nov. 12, 1970,
PUC—SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9.

22. Pretto interview. Incidents of torture were also conﬁrmed in the Cecilia Coimbra
interview.

23. “Relato de fatos da Vida jocista (1970),” PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 21. For examples of
ambivalent views of JOC, see Dom Lucas to Jocistas at Morro Sao Carlos, Rio de Janeiro, Jan.
30, 1971, roll 9; Dom Lucas to Father Agostinho Pretto, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 31, 1971, roll 9;
Dom Lucas to Father Pretto, Rio de Janeiro, Feb. 11, 1971, roll 9.

24. “Dom Avelar cré no dialogo apés o pleito,”]B, Oct. 21, 1970, sec. 1, p. 3.

25. Also note that the bishops were pressuring Dom Eugenio to serve as an intermediary
between Church and government, although the archbishop was reluctant to accept such a
role; “Dom Eugenio Sales Vai falar corn 0 presidente,” ]B, Oct. 10, 1970, sec. 1, p. 12. See also
“Bispos renovarao apelos a Dom Eugenio para que seja mediador junto ao govérno,”]B, Oct.
13, 1970, sec. 1, p. 14.

26. Padilha interviews 1 and 2; and see Padilha 1971:71—-82; Padilha 1975. Additional data
on Padilha available in his curriculum vitae. See also “Padilha (Tarcisio)” 1990; Lippmann et
al. 1984. On Padilha’s ESG activities, see Antonio de Arruda, Tarcisio Meirelles Padilha, and
Danton Pinheiro de Andrade Figueira, “Regimes politicos contemporaneos—soluc6es
democraticas,” ESG, Departamento de Estudos, C9-123-72, speech given on March 24, 1972,
Arquivo Ana Lagoa.

27. Candido Mendes interview 3. For background on the senator, see Vilaga 1981.
According to Candido Mendes, his is the only title of nobility in Brazil that has allowed
inheritance by the eldest son, thus bringing the title into the present.

28. “Candido Mendes: primeiro tema Justica,” O Globo, Nov. 12, 1971, p. 11. Biographical
data on Candido Mendes came from his curriculum vitae and also from Candido Mendes
interviews 1 and 3 and Marina Bandeira interview.

29. “Informes. D.O.,” Oct. 15, 1968, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor 33, pasta 23, pp. 73-74.
Candido Mendes is mentioned in more than twenty other military and police reports on ﬁle
at the DOPS-GB. See, for example, Ministério da Marinha, CENIMAR, “Informe,” Jan. 8,
1969, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor 29, pasta 59, pp. 266-67; Ministério do Exército, DOI—CODI/I
Ex, “lnterrogatorio No. 107/74,” Sept. 9, 1974, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor 10, pasta 128, pp.
554"55-

30. On Leitao de Abreu, Candido Mendes, and liberalization, see Skidmore 1988:1o8, 151,
164-66, including nn. 9-18. Information on Candido Mendes’s suggestion to Leitao de
Abreu and the links to Merquior and Huntington is from Candido Mendes interview 2.
Candido Mendes also brought Professor Karl Deutsch and Professor Georges Lavau to speak
with Brazilian leaders about political liberalization.

31. Muricy 1993:66o. Muricy incorrectly identiﬁes the director of IBRADES as Father
Leonel Franca, who was deceased. -

32. Brian Burke and Enrique del Rio, JOC International ofﬁcials, to Father Celso José
Pinto da Silva, Rio de Janeiro, Oct. 19, 1970, PUC-SP/CEDIC, JOC, roll 9.

250

Notes to Pages 93-101

33. “Relatério sobre o 10. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 906,
p. 1 (quotes); doc. no. 907, p. 1 (descompressdo).

34. Ibid., doc. no. 906, p. 2.

35. “Relatorio do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 977, p. 1.
See chapter 6 for a detailed discussion of the second Bipartite encounter.

36. “Relatorio sobre 0 1o. encontro ‘bipartite,”’ FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 907.

37. Muricy ﬁrst contacted Army Minister Orlando Geisel, who took the idea to Médici.
The president gave his approval (Muricy interview 1). On Médici as a conciliator, see Muricy
19.931749; also on this point and Médici’s delegative governing style, see Skidmore 19882105,
108.

38. “Muricy passa 5 reserva e e alvo de homenagens,”]B, Nov. 26, 1970; “Murici, Antonio
Carlos” 1984:2352. Muricy went to work as president of two companies, Noralage and
Companhia Docas de Imbituba.

39. General Adolpho I050 de Paula Couto, “Bipartite. Resultado do encontro do Gen.
Paula Couto com 0 Gen. Figueiredo,” Dec. 29, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 916,
p. 2; doc. no. 917, p. 1. Candido Mendes recalled that the military debated whether even the
SNI should be present at the Bipartite (Candido Mendes interview 3).

40. On Muricy’s relations with Médici and Orlando Geisel, see Muricy 1993:123—25, 252,
724. Ernesto Geisel also considered himself Muricy’s friend; see D’Araujo and Castro
1997:214.

41. “Muricy bate recorde na eleigao da ADESG,” O Globo, Dec. 11, 1970; “Medici assiste a
posse de Murici na direcao da ADESG,” O Globo, Jan. 8, 1971. On newspaper interviews, see
chapter 4; on ADESG’s activities, see Stepan 1988:47. A member of the ADESG, Padilha
pushed the Muricy candidacy. Padilha believed that a leader of Muricy’s stature could revive
the organization, which one general refused to participate in any further because it had
become a sort of vaudeville act (“respirava ‘o clima do Chacrinha’”); see Tarcisio Meirelles
Padilha to Muricy, Rio de Janeiro, June 16, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. 276, p. 2.

42. “Reuniao com a CNBB,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 916, p. 1. In his 1981
interview General Muricy stated that he met with Médici before the ﬁrst Bipartite encounter
(see Muricy 19932660). However, documents such as the one cited here, as well as Paula
Couto’s report (“Bipartite. Resultado do encontro do Gen. Paula Couto com 0 Gen.
Figueiredo,” Dec. 29, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 916, p. 2; doc. no. 917, p. 1),
indicate that contact with Médici came after the start of the commission. Also see note 37 of
this chapter.

43. Muricy 1993:662 (quote), 749; Muricy elaborated on these points in Muricy interview
1. Muricy stated emphatically that the hard-liners did not interfere in the Bipartite. Muricy
believed he had the respect of the hard line and inﬂuence over it (“eu atuava ela”). Conﬁrma-
tion of Muricy’s authority also from Paciﬁco interview.

44. “Relatorio da reuniéio preparatoria p/0 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 940, p. 1.

45. Muricy 1993:661 (quotation); Fontoura interview; Padilha interview 1; Candido
Mendes interview 1; Dom Eugenio interview.

46. “Relatorio do XXIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 116, p. 2
(Dom Aloisio), and doc. no. 117, p. 1 (Padhilha). See the conclusion to the present work for a
more detailed discussion of the end of the Bipartite.

47. Wagley 1963:1o0—1o4. On the Brazilian elite, see also Needell1987.

251

Notes to Pages 101-9

48. “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 974.

49. The theoretical point about the expression of elite opinion is made by McDonough
1981:15, 37, 175.

50. Virgilio Rosa Netto interview. A top CNBB assistant, Netto came into frequent con-
tact with Dom Ivo, Candido Mendes, and other important Church ofﬁcials in the 1970s.

51. Virgilio Rosa Netto interview; also see the discussion of Candido Mendes’s Bipartite
texts in the next chapter.

52. This analysis from Candido Mendes interview 2.

53. “Relatorio especial do grupo bipartite, sobre problemas surgidos na area Igreja X gov-
erno, referentes .5 participagtao do clero nas comemoracoes do sesquicentenario da inde-
pendéncia do Brasil,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 986, p. 1.

54. “3o. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 943, p. 2.

55. Muricy stated that he had not been concerned about Air Force representation at the
Bipartite (interview 2). A likely factor was the strength of the hard-liners within the Air
Force.

56. Muricy interview 1. See also “Relatério do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 122, p. 3; doc. no. 123, p. 1.

57. “Dom Avelar cré no dialogo apés o pleito,”]B, Oct. 21, 1970, sec. 1, p. 3; Castello Bran-
co 1979:3:693—94; “Igreja admite que relagoes com Estado encontraram o caminho de uma
solug§o,”]B, Oct. 20, 1970, sec. 1, p. 7. 3

58. “Relatorio do XX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 107, p. 2;
doc. no. 108, p. 1. “Arcebispo de Goiﬁnia esclarece autoridades militares sobre sua exata
posicao,” Centro de lnformacoes Ecclesia, Boletim Informativo 253 (1973), in FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 903-04; “Brasil: choques y dialogo entre Iglesia y gobierno,” La
Nacién, Sept. 3, 1973, in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 113, p. 2. The Boletim also con-
tained all of the articles that had been excised by government censors from O Scio Paulo, yet
the Boletim itself, which had a circulation of only three hundred or so, usually escaped cen-
sorship (Dom Amaury interview). “Relatério do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 122, p. 1 (Major Lee).

59. Marina Bandeira interview; on the importance of social networks for human rights,
see Loveman 1998.

60. Nevertheless, the Bipartite remained a strictly Brazilian initiative. For instance, the
Vatican secretary of state did not interfere in the talks (Candido Mendes interview 2). The
lack of any official Vatican link to the Bipartite further demonstrated the CNBB’s rising
importance and autonomy.

61. Virgilio Rosa Netto interview; interviews with several priests and former priests;
“Relatério do XX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 110, p. 2.

62. For an example of the distribution of the military reports, see “Relatério do 20.
encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 915, p. 3.

63. “Relatério da reuniao preparatéria p/o 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 941.

64. Candido Mendes interview 1. The bishops were not defenseless, however, because
they had their own communications network (see chapter 2).

65. “Relatério do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,”’ FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 912. This
report states that Colonel Omar established the authenticity of the tape but does not explain
how. For the transcript of the recording, see “lnﬁltragao de comunistas na Igreja,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 931-33.

252

Notes to Pages ‘I09.-16

66. Roberval interview; Muricy interview 2. Neither officer could recall what subse-
quently happened with these tapes. It is ironic that, although quite gracious and frank in his
interview, Admiral Roberval declined to be taped. Former CNBB assistant Netto stated that
Dom Ivo also secretly recorded the Bipartite meetings. He recalled another occasion on
which Dom Ivo wanted to record a meeting with General Figueiredo. The ofﬁcer became
angry and expelled the bishop from his oﬂice (Virgilio Rosa Netto interview). I was unable
to conﬁrm the Bipartite recording with Dom Ivo himself. Candido Mendes (interview 3)
denied that Dom Ivo made tapes.

I 67. “Relatorio do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 40, p. 2.

68. For Dom Fernando Gomes, “Relatério do XVIII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 93, p. 1. For Dom Paulo, “Relatério especial do grupo bipartite, sobre
problemas surgidos na area Igreja X governo, referentes a participacao do clero nas comem-
oragoes do sesquicentenério da independéncia do Brasil,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 933; untitled notes, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 900, p. 2. For Dom Eugenio and
Dom Ivo, see Muricy 1993:664; for Candido Mendes, “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 977, p. 1; “Relatorio do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 124.

69. For Dom Luciano, “Relatorio especial do grupo bipartite, sobre problemas surgidos
na area Igreja X governo, referentes 5 participagao do clero nas comemoragoes do sesqui-
centenério da independéncia do Brasil,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 991, p. 1; doc.
nos. 992-93. “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no.
132, p. 2; also FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 899, p. 1; doc. no. 900. For Dom Vicente
Scherer, “Visita a D. Vicente Scherer,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 870.

70. “Relatorio do XXIIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 125;
“Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” ibid., doc. no. 132, pp. 2-3.

71. For an earlier interpretation that lays stress on dialogue in the Geisel era, see Bruneau
1982:71—72.

Chapter 6

1. “Relatério sobre 0 1o. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 907, p.
1; also see Dom Avelar’s public comments in “Dom Avelar cré no dizilogo apés o pleito,” ]B,
Oct. 21, 1970, sec. 1, p. 3. For the 1967 request, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:
2:46.

2. For Barreto, “Relatério sobre o 10. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1,
doc. no. 906, p. 2. For Mendes, see Almeida, “Perspectivas para 0 dialogo entre a Igreja e 0
estado no relance do desenvolvimento,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 910, p. 4; doc.
no. 911, p. 1.

3. LaRosa 1995:257—62. See also chapter 2 of the present work for background on the
Church’s evolution in the post—World War II era.

4. Data on Dom Eugénio’s role at Medellin from Tibor Sulik interview 2; Dom Waldyr
interview; and LaRosa 1995:282.

5. Almeida, “Principios fundamentais do documento de Medellin sobre o
desenvolvimento,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 908.

6. Almeida, “Perspectivas para 0 dialogo entre a Igreja e 0 estado no relance do desen-
volvimento,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 909-10.

253

Notes to Pages 116-26

7. Ibid., doc. no. 910, pp. 2-3.

8. Ibid., pp. 2-4.

9. “Relatorio sobre 0 1o. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 905, p.
2; doc. no. 906.

10. See, for example, “A Igreja e a guerra revolucionaria,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 919, p. 2; doc. no. 920; doc. no. 921, p. 1.

11. “Relatério sobre 0 10. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 906.

12. General Adolpho I050 de Paula Couto, “A guerra revolucionaria e a Igreja, a luz dos
documentos de Medellin,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 923, p. 2.

13. Paula Couto, “A guerra revolucionaria e a Igreja,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
923, p. 2; doc. nos. 924, 928.

14. Ibid., doc. no. 924; doc. no. 925, p. 1.

15. Ibid., doc. nos. 925, 926; doc. no. 927, p. 2; doc. no. 928, p. 1; doc. no. 930, p. 1.

16. Ibid., doc. no. 928, p. 2; doc. no. 929.

17. “Relatério do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 911, p. 3;
doc. no. 912, p. 1.

18. Ibid., doc. no. 912, p. 1.

19. Ibid., doc. no. 913, p. 1.

20. Ibid., p. 2.

21. Dantas Barreto, “Simples reﬂexoes a proposito do documento ‘Perspectivas para 0
dialogo entre a Igreja e 0 estado, etc.,’ apresentado ao governo em nome da CNBB,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 934-38; doc. no. 939, pp. 1-2. For government docu-
ment see Presidéncia da Repﬁblica 1970.

22. “Relatério do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 914, pp.
2-3; doc. no. 915, pp. 1-2.

23. “Relatorio da reuniﬁo preparatéria p/o 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 941, p. 1.

24. Paula Couto, “Observacoes para a 3a. bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
944, p. 2; doc. no. 945, p. 1.

25. “Apreciagao sobre pontos do documento apresentado na 1a. reuniao pelo Prof.
Candido Mendes,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 951, p. 1.

26. Ibid., p. 2; doc. no. 952; doc. no. 953, p. 1.

27. On Lopes, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:1:24-26.

28. Golbery do Couto e Silva, José Murta Ribeiro, Francisco Leme Lopes, José Garrido
Torres, and Geraldo Eulalio do Nascimento e Silva, “Doutrina social da Igreja e diretrizes do
govérno do Brasil,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 953, p. 2; doc. nos. 954-65.

29. Paula Couto, “Observacoes para a 3a. bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
945, p. 1; “Relatério da reuniao preparatéria p/o 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 942, p. 1.

30. “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 968.

31. “Conclusiones de la reunion de presidentes de Comisiones Episcopales de Accién
Social del CELAM,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 978, p. 2; doc. nos. 979-80. On Dom
Eugénio’s presentation of this document, see “Relatorio do 40. encontro bipartite,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 968, p. 2; doc. no. 969.

32. “Relatorio do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 914, p. 2.

33. “Igreja admite que relagoes com Estado encontraram o caminho de uma solugao,” ]B,
Oct. 20, 1970, sec. 1, p. 7 (emphasis in the original).

254

Notes to Pages 127-32

34. “Relatério sobre o 10. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 905,
p. 2; doc. no. 907, p. 1.

35. Ibid., doc. no. 906, p. 1.

36. Ibid., doc. no. 907, p. 2.

37. “Relatorio do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 915, p. 1
(responsibility); “Relatorio sobre 0 1o. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 906, p. 1 (corrections). See also Dom Aloisio Lorscheider to General Luis de Franca
Oliveira, secretary of security of the State of Guanabara, Rio de Janeiro, Dec. 6, 1968,
APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 36, p. 30.

38. “Arcebispo de Goiﬁnia esclarece autoridades militares sobre sua exata posicao,”
Centro de Informagoes Ecclesia, Boletim Informativo 253, in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
no. 904, p. 1.

39. “Relatorio do 20. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 913, p. 3;
doc. no. 915, p. 2.

40. “30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 943, p. 1; “Relatorio da
reuniao preparatoria p/0 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 942, p.
2. General Fontoura relayed his response to Dom Ivo’s request in a telephone call to General
Paula Couto.

41. “Relatorio da reuniao preparatoria p/0 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 941, p. 2.

42. Alves 1968:213—19. Artola was regularly investigated by the DOPS-GB (anonymous
interview with former DOPS-GB ofﬁcer).

43. “Relatorio do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 973, p. 2;
doc. no. 974, p. 1.

44. Ibid., doc. no. 973, p. 2; doc. no. 974, p. 2; doc. no. 975, p. 1.

45. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:214—19. For a transcript of the sentence and
the dissenting opinion, see Auditoria da 9a. Circunscrigao Judiciéria Militar, “Sentenca,”
May 28, 1973, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 877-79; on Dom Pedro, see the present
work, chapters 5 and 8.

46. “Relatério do XXIIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 127, p.
3; doc. no. 128, pp. 1-2; doc. no. 129, p. 3. Le Monde reported ]entel’s release but did not pub-
lish an interview with him; see Della Cava 19851195.

47. For police suspicions of Father Daniel, see Ministério do Exército, IExército, Informe
no. 17/ 72-H, Jan. 12, 1972, “Assunto: Grupo de Amigos de Oswaldo Cruz,” APER]/DOPS-GB,
setor “Secreto,” pasta 98, p. 245. For the incident concerning the woman, “Professora
enlouquece no DOPS,” Demincia 6 (Feb. 1972): 4, in APER]/DOPS-GB/Jean Marc van Der
Weid Collection, series 1, doc. P1, doc. no. 41. See also Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-
1987:3:68; “Prisao do Padre Daniel de Castro,” SEDOC 4 (April 1972): 1196-97.

48. Paula Couto, “Relatério ‘bipartite.’ Assunto: posigﬁo do Cardeal D. Eugénio Sales face
a prisao do Padre Daniel,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 860.

49. For accounts of the Dominicans’ involvement in the Marighella incident, see José 1997;
Frei Betto 1987; Simas 1986; Mata 1992; Gorender 1998, ch. 25; Mir 1994:435—74; Freire,
Almada, and Ponce 1997; also Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:203—13; Antoine 1970;
Della Cava 1985. Additional background from Ivo Lesbaupin interview and Dom Amaury
interview. On the lack of clergy involvement in revolutionary groups, see Ridenti 1993.

50. Frei Tito and sixty-nine other political prisoners were freed in exchange for the free-
dom of the Swiss ambassador, kidnapped by revolutionaries.

255

Introduction

Goals, Outcomes, and Meanings of Dialogue

In considering the Church-state relationship, most works on the period concen-
trate on historical rupture. Reinterpreting the Church’s role, this book demon-
strates that continuity also played a central part. .

The Bipartite aimed to salvage the close ties nurtured between Church and state
in the previous half—century. Church-state strife was a frequent theme in nine-
teenth- and twentieth-century Latin America, but in Brazil the Church overcame
anticlericalism among the armed forces and the elite to build the continent’s largest
and one of its most sophisticated ecclesiastical and charitable infrastructures. By
the 1930s the so-called Catholic Restoration had gained the Church practical
reestablishment as an ofﬁcial religion. During the era of Brazilian presidential pol-
itics dominated by the populist Getulio Vargas (1930-1945, 1951-1954) and his suc-
cessors Juscelino Kubitschek (1955-1961) and Joao Goulart (1961-1964), Church
and state collaborated and offered mutual political support. This unwritten agree-
ment lasted into the early years of the military regime. Referring to the formal
agreements, or concordats, that the Church signed with some countries, one bish-
op described the Brazilian pact as a “moral concordat.”5 After 1964 the military
regime focused on subversion, however, and the Church increasingly emphasized
social justice. Christian activism and the national security state clashed. To restore
harmony, the Bipartite sought to resolve the ambiguity between subversion and the
struggle for social justice. It debated three major, overlapping themes: develop-
ment, settling Church-state conﬂict, and violations of human rights. The last point
became the most crucial and produced vehement discussion.

At the ﬁrst meetings the bishops and the military hoped to renew cooperation
in the ﬁeld of socioeconomic development. Both the Church and the armed forces
already had a substantial history of promoting development. Each side also had
signiﬁcant traditions of nationalism. Despite the regime’s technocratic approach,
the bishops believed that the Church’s new social doctrine should serve as a frame-
work for national development. The discussions included debates over ideology
and democracy. Cooperation became impossible, however, because the military
attacked the radical Catholics’ implementation of the social doctrine as subversive.
In other words, Catholic radicalism criticized the new socioeconomic order im-
posed by the armed forces and supported revolutionaries’ efforts to overthrow
that order. The attempt to collaborate was nevertheless meaningful, because it
revealed continuity in the motives and intentions of both the military and the bish-
ops. As churchmen and officers had so often maintained close ties in the past, so

4

Notes to Pages 132-39

51. General Paciﬁco stated that the matter was “ultrapassado” (concluded) by the start of
the Bipartite (Paciﬁco interview). 7

52. Freire, Almada, and Ponce 19972258; also Frei Betto 1987:236—37.

53. “Relatério do XVIII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 86, p. 2
(Muricy); “Relatorio sobre o 10. encontro ‘bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no.
907, p. 2 (Grupo da Situagao). Dom Avelar, one of the leading proponents of Church-state
dialogue, also pressed for broadening dialogue to include leaders from all social and cultur-
al categories. He made this proposal in September 1971 in a speech before the ESG that was
published in the press. Dom Avelar also criticized extremists in both the repressive forces
and the opposition (see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:59—62). The ESG com-
mander, General Rodrigo Octavio Jordao, was immediately ﬁred. The kind of dialogue pro-
posed by Dom Avelar did not occur until the so-called Missao Portella in 1977.

54. “Relatorio do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 969, p. 1
(Dom Eugenio); doc. no. 975, p. 1. “Muricy aponta aliciamento de jovens para o terror,” ]B,
July 20, 1970, p. 5.

Chapter 7

1. On the regime’s use of Independence Day, see Fico 1997:126—27, 142-43.

2. “Atas de reuniao do Alto Comando do Exército. 43a. reuniﬁo,” Sept. 5, 1969,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 197, p. 2.

3. For January, “A Igreja e o sesquicentenario da independéncia,” Comunicado Mensa]
(CM) 232 (Jan. 1972): 11-12. For April, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:3:1o2;
“Comemoragoes religiosas do sesquicentenario,” 0 S670 Paulo, Aug. 19, 1972, p. 1. For the
ofﬁcial announcement, see “O sesquicentenario da independéncia do Brasil,” CM 235 (April
1972): 24.

4. “Centenério de D. Vital,” SEDOC 5 (Aug. 1972): 241-50. On the Religious Question, see
chapter 2 of the present work.

5. Fabricio Conceicao, “5o anos de independéncia: a nossa e a deles,” Voz Operciria (May
1972), in BNM microﬁlm collection, role no. 20, case no. 21, p. 30.

6. “3 de setembro,” 0 S430 Paulo, Aug. 12, 1972, p. 3. In the same edition, see also “A Igreja
nos festejos do sesquicentenério da independéncia.” The CNBB had announced the
September 3 date in a January press release; see “A Igreja e o sesquicentenario da inde-
pendéncia,” CM 232 (Jan. 1972): 11.

7. “Atas da II reuniao da Comissﬁo Representativa,” CM 239 (Aug. 1972): 19.

8. “Relatorio especial do grupo bipartite, sobre problemas surgidos na area Igreja X gov-
erno, referentes a participagao do clero nas comemoracoes do sesquicentenario do Brasil”
(hereafter cited as “Relatorio especial”), FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 984, p. 2; doc.
no. 985, p. 1; doc. no. 986. On the Church’s preparations, see also Prandini, Petrucci, and
Dale 1986—1987:3:1o2.

9. “Terminam as obras no Parque,” OESP, Aug. 29, 1972, p. 56; “Em Roma, ‘Te Deum’ pelo
sesquicentenério,” OESP, Aug. 23, 1972, p. 46.

1o. CNBB, Comissﬁo Representativa, “1a. redagao,” rough draft of sesquicentennial state-
ment, Aug. 1972, INP, doc. no. 757.

11. Alfredo Buzaid, “No sesquicentenario da independéncia,” O Globo, Sept. 6, 1972, p. 2.

12. “Relatério especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 984, p. 2; doc. no. 985, p. 1.

256

Notes to Pages 139-44

13. “Documentos sobre a Independéncia,” Imprensa Popular 2, n.d., in BNM, role no. 20,
case no. 21, pp. 181-91, and “Igreja combate a ditadura,” Voz Operoiria (Aug. 1972), in ibid., p.
206; also “Le Brésil commémore son Independence . . . sans le peuple!” Solidarité Brésil 2.3,
pp. 3-7, APER]/]eanMarc van Der Weid Collection, series 1, dossier 2, doc. JM, P2, D40.

14. “Entrevista: Tristao de Athayde,” Libertas 11.4 (Aug.-Sept. 1972): 4-5, in
APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Comunismo,” pasta 116, p. 87.

15. “Testemunho de paz,” SEDOC 5 (July 1972): 107-09 (quotation); Ministério do
Exército, 10. Exército, “lnformagao No. 1345/ 72-Sch. Assunto: CNBB,” June 29, 1972,
APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 175, pp. 198—202F.

16. “Missa grandiosa, prevé o arcebispo,” OESP, Aug. 29, 1972, p. 22; “D. Paulo lembra
omissao de 1922,” OESP, Aug. 30, 1972, p. 30. Notwithstanding Dom Paulo’s comments, the
Church did mark a strong presence in 1922 by holding its ﬁrst national Eucharistic congress
in Rio de Janeiro and inaugurating the construction of the famed Cristo Redentor (Christ the
Redeemer) statue atop the city’s Corcovado peak (see Serbin 1996).

17. “Relatorio especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 985. The press also com-
mented brieﬂy on the content of Celebragﬁes; see “Médici nao ira 5 missa,” OESP, Aug. 29,
1972, p. 56.

18. “Relatério especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 985-87.

19. Ibid., doc. no. 987, p. 2; doc. no. 988, p. 1.

20. Ibid., doc. nos. 985, 988; doc. no. 989, p. 1. See also “Celebrag§olit1’1rgica por ocasiao
do sesquicentenario da independéncia do Brasil,” 0 Sdo Paulo, Sept. 3, 1972, pp. 8-11, which
contains the truncated version of Celebragdes. For the copy of the CNBB statement provided
by Dom Avelar, see FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 996, p. 2; doc. no. 997.

21. “Igreja nao langa o seu documento,” OESP, Sept. 1, 1972; “Transcendente e imanente
na missao atual da Igreja,” OESP, Sept. 3, 1972, p. 44.

22. “Atas da II reuniéio da Comissao Representativa,” CM 239 (Aug. 1972): 17-26.

23. “Relatério especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 991, p. 2; doc. no. 992; doc.
no. 993, p. 1. For the published text of the bishops’ sesquicentennial statement, see
“Mensagem da CNBB,” SEDOC 5 (Oct. 1972): 477. Press reports on the meeting did not men-
tion Church-state friction over the sesquicentennial; see, for example, “CNBB prepara mini-
assembléia.” On the question of torture, see the allusion made by Dom Valfredo Tepe in
“Bispos devem denunciar a injustica,” OESP, Aug. 27, 1972, p. 28.

24. “Relatério especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 993.

25. “Atas da II reuniao da Comissao Representativa,” CM 239 (Aug. 1972): 24-25.

26. “Relatorio especial,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 989-90.

27. Ibid., doc. nos. 989-90; doc. no. 993, p. 1.

28. Ibid., doc. no. 990, p. 1; doc. no. 993, p. 1.

29. The minutes do not record the words of Dom Ivo nor of Dom Aloisio, who appeared
at the end of the exchange. Ibid., doc. no. 989, p. 2; doc. no. 993, p. 1.

30. Ibid., doc. no. 990.

31. McDonough (1981:37) also noted a gap between the public opinions and the conﬁden-
tial views of other members of the elite during the Médici years.

32. “Alguns destaques das comemoragoes religiosas do sesquicentenario da independen-
cia,” O Sdo Paulo, Sept. 9, 1972, p. 3; “Nesta missa, o sermao é do papa,” OESP, Sept. 3, 1972,
p. 48. The biblical texts were Exodus 34:10-27; Romans 6:1-4; and Matthew 13:31-33. 0
Estado de Sdo Paulo estimated the crowd at only twenty thousand; see “Paulo VI aponta o
dever de todos,” OESP, Sept. 5, 1972, p. 50.

257

Notes to Pages 144-49

33. “Armas e povo encerram a festa,” OESP, Sept. 8, 1972, p. 1; “Congresso lembra a inde-
pendéncia,” OESP, Sept. 2, 1972, p. 13; Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:3:1o3. While
the sesquicentennial dispute mainly took place at the federal level, local government repre-
sentatives did attend the CNBB’s September 3 Te Deum, and the CNBB thanked the munic-
ipality and the state for their cooperation; see “Ao arcebispo de Sao Paulo felicitando pela
preparacao e celebracao do ‘Dia de Oragoes pela Patria,’” CM 240 (Sept. 1972): 26.
“Arcebispo diz que Vai tudo bem com govérno,” OESP, Sept. 3, 1972, p. 50 (quotation).

34. Brandao 1992:13. An ally of Brizola in the 1961 succession crisis, Goiés Governor
Mauro Borges had also opposed the coup and was deposed in November 1964.

35. For Dom Fernando in 1968, Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:2:66—68. For fur-
ther background, see Gomes 1982, Duarte 1996.

36. For a detailed analysis of these documents, see Bernal1989:94-117; on the origins of
the documents and Dom Fernando’s role, see also Lopes 1994:132.

37. Dom Fernando Gomes dos Santos, “lndflstria de calunia?” 0 S570 Paulo, Aug. 19, 1972,
p. 6; “Declaracao da comissao episcopal regional,” CM 238 (July 1972):71—74.

38. For background on Dom Pedro and S50 Félix, see Salem 19812190-200; on the death
of Father Burnier, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:4:27o—311. It is ironic that Fr.
Burnier was the cousin of hard-line General Joao Paulo Moreira Burnier, head of CISA (the
Air Force intelligence service that ran a torture center) and then Air Force base commander
in Rio. On Fr. Burnier, see Tierra 1997:385.

39. “Opressao cai sobre Igreja do Araguaia,” Libertagdo, 6.43, July 31, 1973, pp. 3-5,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 681, p. 2; doc. no. 682.

40. On the Araguaia war, see Richopo 1987, Portela 1979, Cabral 1993; for attacks on the
Church, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:3:88—94.

41. Salem 1981:19o—2oo; Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:142—44.

42. FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. nos. 45-82.

43. “Relatorio do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. nos. 40-42;
Dom Pedro’s document was “Do posseiro,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 67, p. 2; doc.
no. 68, p. 1.

44. FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 82.

45. “Relatorio do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 42, p. 1.

46. Ibid., doc. no. 40, p. 2; doc. no. 41; doc. no. 42, p. 1.

47. Dom Fernando Gomes [dos Santos], “Carta pastoral sobre como vemos a situagao da
Igreja em face do atual regime” (Goiﬁnia, 1973), CNBB/INP. The Grupo da Situagao quickly
obtained a draft of the pastoral and a June 27, 1973, letter from Dom Fernando to other bish-
ops asking for comments; see “Relatério do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 2, doc. nos. 82-84 (“Anexo E”), doc. no. 92.

48. Clovis Stenzel, “De D. Hélder a D. Fernando,” Dicirio dc Noticias, July 20, 1973.

49. “Relatério do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 40, p. 2;
doc. no. 42, p. 2 (Muricy and Lee); doc. no. 43, p. 1. On Lee’s acquisition of the letter, see
Gomes 1982:229.

50. “Relatério do XVIII encontro bipartite (reuniao extraordinaria),” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 87, p. 1 (“God” and “Our Lady”); doc. no. 88, p. 1; doc. 89, p. 1; doc. no.
94, p. 2 (nation) and doc. no. 95. I rely here on the military’s detailed report of the meeting.
For Dom Fernandds less detailed but consistent report, see “Arcebispo de Goiania esclarece
autoridades militares sobre sua exata posigao,” Centro de Informagoes Ecclesia, Boletim

258

Notes to Pages 150-156

Irzformativo 253, in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 903, p. 2; doc. no. 904; also Gomes
1982:24o—47.

51. “Relatorio do XVIII encontro bipartite (reuniao extraordinaria),” FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 89, pp. 1-2.

52. Ibid., doc. nos. 9o-92; doc. no. 92, p. 1 (quotation).

53. Ibid., doc. nos. 94-95 (“Anexos”).

54. Ibid., doc. no. 92. 3

55. Ibid., doc. nos. 87-90, 92.

56. Ibid, doc. no. 93, p. 2. On the repercussions of Dom Fernando’s publication for the
Bipartite, see chapter 5.

57. “Relatério do XVIII encontro bipartite (reuniao extaordinéria),” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 2, doc. no. 93.

58. Ibid., doc. no. 93.

59. “Encontro c/D. Aloisio e D. Ivo,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, role 1, doc. no. 851, p. 2;
“Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, doc. no. 852, p. 1.

6o. Dom Ivo Lorscheiter, “Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, doc.
no. 852, p. 2.

61. José Jobim to Secretaria de Estado, Rome, Nov. 9, 1970, Arquivo do Itamaraty,
Secretaria de Estado das Relagoes Exteriores, Correspondéncia Especial 4429; “Pontificio
Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, role 1, doc. no. 852, p. 1.

62. Ibid.; also doc. nos. 853-58; “Resumo do relatorio anual do Pontificio Colégio Pio
Brasileiro,” CM 223 (April 1971): 25-29; Laufer interview.

63. “D. Agnelo diz que lutaré em Roma pela boa imagem do pais,”]B, Nov. 10, 1970, sec.
1, p. 4; also “D. Agnelo fara centro informativo do Brasil em Roma,” ]B, Oct. 24, 1970, sec. 1,
p. 3.

64. Colonel Fernando Cerqueira Lima to Muricy, Rome, Dec. 4, 1972, FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 864, p. 2; Lima to Muricy, Rome, Feb. 21, 1973, ibid., doc. no. 866, pp.
1-2. See also Dom Agnelo’s proregime discourse at the Pio, “‘Dia Nacional de Agao de
Gragas’ em 23.XI.72 no Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro de Roma,” in ibid., doc. no. 864, p.
3; doc. no. 865, pp. 1-3. Lima was a friend of the owner of O Estado de S670 Paulo. Under Geisel
he became a four-star general and headed up the investigation that ruled the suspicious
death of journalist Vladimir Herzog a suicide (see Soares, D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:65,
229). On the Herzog case, see chapter 10 of the present work.

65. Gervésio Queiroga interview; “Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro. Relatério anual,” CM
271 (April 1975): 388.

66. “Encontro c/D. Aloisio e D. Ivo,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 851, p. 2;
Frederico Laufer to Muricy, Rome, Nov. 24, 1971, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 516
(quotation); “Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” CM 278 (Nov. 1975): 1152-55. See also
“Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” CM 226 (July 1971): 63-64; “Colégio Pio Brasileiro,” CM 246 (March
1973): 475; on support from the German Church, see Serbin 1995:165—67.

67. “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 133, pp.
1, 4; doc. no. 134, pp. 1, 4. On the China decision, including the hard-liners’ opposition, see
Couto 1998:158, 229-3o; also D’Araujo and Castro 1997:363—64. A number of Brazilian busi-
nessmen supported the China initiative as a way to open new markets for Brazilian exports
(see Médici1995:86).

68. Ribeiro and Ribeiro 1994:111, 114, 117 (Costa e Silva), 118-19, 121, 123 ; for background

259

Notes to Pages 156-61

on the Church and population questions, see Pierucci 1978. “Relatério do XXIV encontro
bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 134, p. 2 (Candido Mendes).

69. Ribeiro and Ribeiro 1994:115-18, 129; on the bishops, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:4:47—48.

7o. “Geisel em resumo,”]B, March 20, 1974, sec. 1, p. 5.

71. “Relatério do XXII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 123, p. 3;
doc. no. 124, p. 1. “Relatério do XXIII encontro bipartite,” ibid., doc. no. 125, p. 1; doc. no.
128, p. 3; doc. no. 129, p. 1.

72. “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, role 2, doc. no. 133, pp.
1-3; also “A respeito da BEMFAM,” CM 228 (Sept. 1971): 51; “A Igreja, a questao demogréﬁca
e a pastoral familiar,” CM 263 (Aug. 1974): 673-81.

73. “A Sociedade Bem-Estar Familiar (BEMFAM) diante da doutrina catélica,” CM 260
(May 1974): 416.

74. “De vérios bispos ao presidente da CNBB,” CM 261 (June 1974): 429.

75. “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 133, pp.
2-3.

76. Ibid., pp. 3-4.

77. “Relatorio do XIX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 97, p. 2;
doc. no. 98, p. 1. On Protestantism and spiritism, also see Padilha 1975:83—86.

78. Octavio Costa interview 1. General Costa further speculated that Orlando Geisel’s ini-
tiative may have been a deliberate effort to irritate the Church.

79. “Relatério do XXII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 120, pp.
1-2; doc. no. 121, p. 1.

80. Octavio Costa interview 1. As the general recalled, Dom Newton later convinced the
transit authority to put up traffic signs in Brasilia indicating the way to the “chapel” rather
than to the oratory. Fearﬁil of the reaction of Orlando Geisel, Costa had the signs changed.
Nevertheless, the Church later asserted control over the oratory; indeed, according to Costa,
no Protestant activities were ever held there. See also Muricy 1993:663.

81. Octavio Costa interview 1; for the text of one of Dom Aloisio’s requests, see “A0 sr.
presidente da repﬁblica sobre veiculagao da CF-73 nas emissoras de radio e TV,” CM 239
(Aug. 1972): 130-31.

82. Gervasio Queiroga interview (quotation); on Senator Vilela, also see Skidmore
1988:241.

83. For a general narrative of these incidents, see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:3:163—69; also “A opiniao p1’1blica,”A Arquidiocese em noticias, in FGV/CPDOC
/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 88oA, p. 4; “Dom Avelar espera uma explicacéo,” JB, Sept. 4, 1973;
Dom Avelar, “‘Eu ouvi os clamores de meu povo’: parecer sucinto sobre o documento,”

FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 900, p. 3; “Relatério do XX encontro bipartite,” '

FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 108, p. 2; doc. no. 110, p. 1.

84. In order, Dom Avelar to Muricy, Salvador, Sept. 2, 1972 [1973], FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 861, p. 1; Muricy to Dom Avelar, Rio de Janeiro, Sept. 12, 1973, doc. no. 880, p.
2; Dom Avelar to Muricy, Salvador, Sept. 17, 1973, doc. no. 88oA, p. 3; Dom Avelar to Muricy,
Sept. 29, 1973, doc. no. 881, pp. 2-3. _

85. “Relatério do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 120,
p. 2; “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 133,

p. 1.

260

Notes to Pages 165-70

Chapter 8

1. In March and April 1997, Brazilian television networks offered stark evidence of con-
tinuing torture when they aired secretly recorded videos of policemen abusing favela—
dwellers in Sao Paulo and Rio.

2. Barboza 1992:193—94 (quotation); Médici 1995:43—45, 47, 6o-62, 73; Gazzotti
1998379—33- '

3. In addition to the Church, the Associagao Brasileira de Imprensa (Brazilian Press
Association) and elements of the Ordem dos Advogados do Brasil (Brazilian Bar
Association) and the MDB took up the cause of human rights in the 1970s.

4. See chapter 2 for a description of the network. My analysis here differs from most stud-
ies of the CNBB, which stress the organization’s ideological evolution as expressed in official
pronouncements while giving little emphasis to concrete actions in defense of human rights.

5. Marina Bandeira interview; see also her comments in Lopes 1994:132—33.

6. “Une partie du clergé de Rio conteste les ‘méthodes autoritaires’ de Rome,” Le Monde,
April 16, 1971, p. 10. On “remaking” Brazil’s image, see chapter 4.

7. “Eleigao do novo arcebispo do Rio de Janeiro,” SEDOC 3 (May 1971): 1393-404; “Une
partie du clergé de Rio conteste les ‘méthodes autoritaires’ de Rome,” Le Monde, April 16,
1971, p. 10.

8. Ministério do Exército, Gabinete do Ministro, CIE, Informagao no. 226o/S/1o2~S3-
CIE, Sept. 5, 1972, “Assunto: ‘A Cruz,’” APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DOPS,” pasta 181, p. 185.

9. Secretaria de Seguranga Publica, Departamento Geral de Investigagoes Especiais,
Informacao no. 029-]. Santos/ 75, Oct. 13, 1975, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “DGIE,” pasta 247,
pp. 125-26. /

1o. Virgilio Rosa Netto interview. The organization was FASE (Federagao de Orgaos de
Assisténcia Social e Educacional); see Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:3:63—64.

11. Tibor Sulik interview 1. According to Sulik, before Dom Eugénids arrival in Rio, the
nunciature was used as a hiding place for clergy sought by the repressive forces.

12. Candido Mendes interview 2. Dom Eugenio himself also conﬁrmed contacts with
Dom Paulo, though Dom Eugenio could not recall the content of the conversations (Dom
Eugénio interview).

13. Dom Eugenio interview; on Médici and human rights violations, see Médici
1995343—45, 47. 73-

14. Dom Eugenio interview; Ponte Neto interview. Ponte Neto was the archdiocesan
administrator of Caritas, the Catholic relief organization. As such he handled the day-to-day
operation of the underground railroad. These efforts occurred in cooperation with a similar
program in the archdioceses of Sao Paulo and Santiago, Chile. See Wright 1989:6o; Lowden
1996:31—32.

15. Alfredo Stroessner to Muricy, Asuncion, Sept. 18, 1970, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1,
doc. no. 651.

16. See CDADDH, police ﬁle no. 1931, Feb. 22, 1973; CDADDH, “Declaracion informativa
formulada por el detenido Pedro Enrique [sic] Mariani Bittencourt,” bibliorato “L 53-

' 54”; also Gregorio Lopez Moreira to General Francisco A. Britez, Asuncion, Aug. 12, 1967,

CDADDH, bibliorato “C.2. Notas J.I. IV-67 a 1-68”; “IV Conferencia Bilateral de inteligencia
entre los ejércitos de Paraguay y Brasil,” CDADDH, bibliorato 1008, pp. 436-48.

17. On Operation Condor, see Sannemann 1993, 1994; Paz, Gonzalez, and Aguilar 1994,
ch. 6; “Paraguay: les archives” 1993.

261

Notes to Pages 170-74

18. For an overview of the CJP-BR’s history, see Almeida and Bandeira 1996; CNBB 1983;
Doimo 1995:81 n. 5, 191-92.

19. “Relatério da reuniao preparatéria p/ 0 30. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 1, doc. no. 940, pp. 1 and 2 (quotation); doc. no. 941, p. 1.

20. Candido Mendes interview 2; and see CNBB 1983.

21. For an overview of the CJP-SP, see Pope 1985; also Wright 1989. The actions of both
the CJP-BR and the C]P—SP contradict Lowden’s assertion that the Vicariate of Solidarity in
Chile, founded years later, “was an entirely new structure” in the Catholic Church; see
Lowden 1996:54, 76.

22. Candido Mendes interview 2. On cooperation, see chapter 10; also Wright 1989260.
Additional information on cooperation, frictions, and differences in style comes from
Dalmo Dallari interview and Margarida Genevois interview (both Dallari and Genevois
belonged to the CJP-SP). For an alternative interpretation that, I believe, incorrectly overem-
phasizes friction between the C]P—BR and the CJP-SP, see Pope 1985:43o—31, 434-35.

23. Arruda 1996; also Boletim Reservado, no. 4, May 3, 1974, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor 38, p.
19; additional information and perceptions of the meeting from Candido Mendes interview
3.

24. Candido Mendes interview 2. On Paulo Wright, see Wright 1993; Archdiocese of Sao
Paulo 1988:37, 256-57.

25. Tibor Sulik interview 1. On lack of control in the security forces, see Couto
1998:174—94, 253-54; also D’Araujo and Castro 1997:227-28, 377-79.

26. Candido Mendes interview 2; also Huggins 1998:177, 179.

27. “Visita a d. Vicente Scherer,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 870. Among
General Muricy’s papers there is also a copy of a letter from Dom Vicente Scherer to Dom
Aloisio harshly criticizing the CNBB human rights statement; see FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll
2, doc. no. 6; also Dom Vicente Scherer, “Cardeal analisa decisoes da ﬁltima reuniéio da
CNBB,” Correio do P01/0 (Porto Alegre), April 24, 1973.

28. Adolpho I050 de Paula Couto, “Proposigoes aprovadas pela XIII Assembléia Geral da
CNBB. Anélise sumaria das proposigcies aprovadas consideradas como sendo as mais graves,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 871-76. See also the Situacads marginal notes on a
CNBB press release on the human rights document in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 1,
p. 2; doc. nos. 2-5. Air Force Intelligence produced a harshly critical analysis of this docu-
ment; see Costa 1979:4-5. For the CNBB text, see CNBB 1973. The Bipartite debated the state-
ment at its April 1973 meeting. However, the minutes are not in Muricy’s archive.

29. Paula Couto, “Anélise sumaria das proposigies aprovadas consideradas como sendo as
mais graves,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 876.

30. “Relatério do XVI encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. nos. 12-13;
doc. no. 16, pp. 2-3; also “Relatério do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2,
doc. no. 42.

31. “Relatério sobre 0 10. encontro ‘Bipartite,’” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 907,
pp. 1-2; “Relatorio do 20. encontro ‘Bipartite,’” ibid., p. 3. On the ineffectiveness of the
National Commission, see Huggins 1998:175-76; Silva 1984:475—76; Silva and Carneiro
1983:25, 103-11, 118-26; Della Cava 1985:181; “La dictadura militar de Medici a Geisel,”
Campanha, no. 15/16, April 15, 1974, pp. 19-23, APERJ/Jean Marc van Der Weid Collection,
series 1, dossier 2, doc. IM, P2, D25; Lima 1974:179-81; further conﬁrmation from Candido
Mendes interview 3.

262

Notes to Pages 174-83

32. “Relatorio do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 43, p. 1;
doc. no. 44, p. 1. The tribunal was suggested in the CNBB’s 1973 human rights statement
(CNBB 1973:14). See also Russell 1967.

33. Acres 1974:46—5o. On preparation for the tribunal, see letter from Committee Against
Repression in Brazil to friends, Hyattsville, Maryland, Aug. 30, 1972, APER]/Jean Marc van
Der Weid Collection, series 1, dossier 2, doc. ]M, P2, D-12, D-13, D-16.

34. “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 972; doc.
no. 973, p. 1. For the text of the protocol, see “Anexo E (ao relatério do IV enc. bip.),” ibid.,
doc. no. 981, p. 2; doc. no. 982, p. 1; Jobim to Secretaria do Estado, Rome, June 7, 1971,
Arquivo do Itamaraty, Secretaria de Estado das Relagoes Exteriores, Correspondéncia
Especial 2497.

35. “Relatério do 40. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. nos. 12-13;
doc. no. 973, p. 1; doc. no. 977, p. 1.

36. Archdiocese of S510 Paulo 19882116. In a stark documentary revelation of torture, a
DOI-CODI interrogator noted that Joaquim Arnaldo Albuquerque, suspected of ties to the
MPL, could not continue under questioning “because of his state of health”; Ministério do
Exército, Io. Exército, Informagao no. 405/ 74-H, Feb. 19, 1974, “Assunto: depoimentos
prestados no DOI/IEX,” APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Comunismo,” pasta 126, p. 194.

37. “Cartas sobre presos,” SEDOC 6 (June 1974): 1412-14.

38. “Relatorio do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 121, p.
2; doc. no. 122 (quotation). For May 1974, see doc. no. 126, pp. 2-3; doc. no. 127, pp. 1-2. On
Rossi, see Pope, “Human Rights,” 433, 437.

39. “Relatorio do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 127, p.
2. On Collier Filho, see Archdiocese of S50 Paulo 1988:189-9o; on Oliveira, see Archdiocese
of S50 Paulo 1985:292.

40. Dom Hélder to General Walter Menezes Paes, Recife, Oct. 4, 1973, FGV/CPDOC/
ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 882. On the Bipartite discussions of the prisoners, see “Relatorio do XIX
encontro bipartite,” ibid., role 2, doc. no. 96, p. 2.

41. For an overview of press censorship, see Smith 1997, Gazzotti 1998, Aquino 1995, also
Cotta 1997. On censorship of other media and the arts, see Couto 1998:168-69; for a defense
of censorship, see Médici 1995: 52-54.

42. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:3:83—86. Information on censorship also
from Dom Amaury interview (Dom Amaury edited 0 S530 Paulo during the Médici years).
For a detailed analysis of the censorship of 0 S530 Paulo, see Pereira 1982. The Boletim de
Informagﬁes Ecclesia, a Church circular that printed news censored from O Sdo Paulo, usually
escaped censorship, but on at least one occasion it did receive an order not to publish an arti-
cle; see “Governo censura editorial catolico,” Denzincia 2.9 (May 1972): 4, APERJ/Jean Marc
van Der Weid Collection, series 1, doc. P1, 40.

43. “Relatério do XVI encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 12, p. 2;
doc. no. 13, p. 1; also “Os clamores do povo,” 0 S070 Paulo, May 19-25, 1973, p. 3.

44. “Relatério do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 42.

45. “Relatorio do XX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 106, p. 1.

46. “Relatério do XIX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 96.

47. “Orgamento federal para 74: seguranga primeiro, depois 0 homem,” O Sdo Paulo,
xeroxed copy in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 112, p. 2.

48. “Relatorio do XX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 105; doc.

263

Notes to Pages 183-88

no. 106, p. 2; doc. no. 107, p. 1. I have found no record of a meeting between Dom Lucas and
General Bandeira.

49. “Relatério do XX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 106, p. 1;
doc. no. 107 (quotation). Lee cited a newspaper report on Soviet censorship; see “Moscou
censura a imprensa,” OESP, July 17, 1973, in FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 113, p. 1. On
one occasion the Church itself exercised censorship of O Sdo Paulo. One series of articles that
was particularly critical of the regime came to a halt upon orders from nuncio Dom Mozzoni
(Dom Amaury interview).

50. “A Radio Nove de Julho,” SEDOC 6 (April 1974): 1115-22; Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986-1987:3:22o—22. On Brazil’s Catholic radio stations, see Della Cava and Montero
1991:223-34.

51. Consejero Osvaldo M. Brana to D. Alberto J. Vignes, Minister of Foreign Relations
and Religion, Rome, Feb. 22, 1974, AEAASS, Santa Sede 82.

52. “Relatério do XXIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 116, p. 2.

53. “A Radio Nove de Julho,” SEDOC 6 (April 1974): 1119-22.

54. “Relatério do XXIIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 125;
doc. no. 127, pp. 2-3. (Dom Avelar lost the race for the CNBB presidency to Dom Aloisio.)

55. “Relatério do XXIV encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 134, p. 4.

56. Candido Mendes interview 2. Stepan (1988:13) states that “liberalization began with-
in the state apparatus owing to the contradictions generated by the increasing autonomy of
the security apparatus.” At the start of his term, Geisel called in General Milton Tavares, the
head of the CIE under Médici, for a complete report on the repression (Octavio Costa inter-
view 3). Thereafter he requested a monthly report on the jailing and release of political pris-
oners (see Couto 1998:174, 220-21).

Chapter 9

1. Details of the atrocities and the subsequent Army investigation come from
“Sentenca,” Processo 17/72, Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciaria Militar, 2a. Auditoria
do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973. I am grateful to retired military judge Helmo de Azevedo
Sussekind for access to the only known existing copy of this valuable document. It contains
the judge’s summary of the proceedings, which were apparently destroyed (or at the very
least are being kept under lock in military archives). In April 1997, the president of the supe-
rior military tribunal General Antonio Joaquim Soares Moreira granted me permission to
examine the documentation on the Barra Mansa incident. However, the permission was
quickly revoked following newspaper articles on the case sparked by my discovery of the
sentence (see Gaspari 1997a, Melo 1997a). Additional details on the atrocities are available in
Dom Waldyr Calheiros de Novaes, “Relatério geral sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de
soldados no 1o. BIB, sediado em Barra Mansa—R]” (hereafter cited as “Relatorio geral
sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de soldados”), Arquivo da Diocese de Barra
do Pirai—Volta Redonda (hereafter cited as ADBPVR); also see José Manes Leitao,
Procurador da Justica Militar, to Exmo. Sr. Dr. Auditor da 2a. Auditoria do Exército da 1a.
CJM (Helmo de Azevedo Sussekind), ofﬁcial ﬁling of charges, Rio de Janeiro, March 24, 1972,
ADBPVR.

2. There are brief references to the case in Gorender 1998:26o, and D’Araujo, Soares, and
Castro 1994a:274, but no work has investigated the episode in detail.

264

Notes to Pages 188-91

3. “Vereadores foram almocar no BIB,” Folha Mercantil (Barra Mansa), Aug. 15, 1969, p. 1.

4. “Despacho,” Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscricao Judiciéria Militar, 2a. Auditoria do
Exército, July 29, 1971, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor “Prontuério,” pasta 3338-R], p. 3. The irregu-
lar nature of this action was commented on in the Sampaio interview. General Sampaio was
the colonel charged with investigating the torture deaths.

5. “Ref.: Contrabando. Inquérito Policial Militar, instaurado no I Exército,” APER]/
DOPS-GB, setor “Secreto,” pasta 155, pp. 180-363. '

6. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:2:137—62; Bruneau 1974b:188—-96. See also the
extensive material in the ﬁles on Dom Waldyr in the DOPS-GB archive, for example,
“Relagao nominal e respectiva qualiﬁcagao de individuos envolvidos em movimento subver-
sivo,” Jan. 22, 1971, APER]/DOPS-GB, setor 1, pasta 50481, pp. 5-6. On Sussekind’s rulings,
see also “Despacho,” Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciaria Militar, 2a. Auditoria do
Exército, July 29, 1971, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “Prontuério,” pasta 3338-R]. On the torture
investigation, see “Bispo prestou ontem depoimento no IPM,” Folha Mercantil, Aug. 8, 1969,
p. 1; “Comandante do BIB diz que bispo é extremista,” Dicirio dc Noticias (Rio de Janeiro),
Aug. 16, 1969. For additional background on Dom Waldyr, see chapter 2.

7. Dom Waldyr interview. On military involvement in the kidnapping of Dom Adriano,
see Argolo, Ribeiro, and Fortunato 1996:218, 234. For a description of the kidnapping, see
Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:4:24o—69. According to one general, the armed
forces cultivated negative sexual innuendo about Dom Waldyr as a way to further denigrate
his image (Octavio Costa interviews 2 and 3).

8. “lnvestigagao mata soldados,” OESP, Feb. 6, 1972, p. 30.

9. “Sentenca,” Processo 17/72, Justica Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciaria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973, p. 1.

1o. Dom Waldyr interview. The comment on “soft” came in the Geralsélia interview (she
was Geomar’s sister). Geomar’s mother recalled that it was the death of another man within
the barracks that upset him (Evangelina interview). Private Mongﬁo also conﬁded to his fam-
ily that he had witnessed a tumultuous situation at the barracks (Pedro Virote and Eﬁgénia
Virote interviews).

11. “Sentenca,” Processo 17/72, Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciéria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973, pp. 1, 4-5. On Botelho’s transfer, see Manes Leitao to
Exmo. Sr. Dr. Auditor, Rio de Janeiro, March 24, 1972, ADBPVR. One explanation for the
transfer informally suggested to me by one of Private Geomar’s relatives was that Botelho’s
presence was a pretext to investigate drug trafficking in the barracks, in order to attack those
soldiers who did not agree with the illicit activities occurring there. Lending credence to this
version is the fact that Botelho’s brother Hélio was a soldier at the 1st AIB. According to the
documents cited in this note, Expedito Botelho denounced his own brother for involvement
in drug trafficking in the barracks. Hélio was then tortured but survived and escaped. His
ﬂight provided the torturers with the idea for the false deserter story, used to explain the
death of Privates Wanderley and Mongﬁo.

12. Dom Waldyr, “Relatorio geral sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de soldados,”
ADBPVR; denial of marijuana conﬁrmed in Geralsélia interview.

13. Dom Waldyr, “Relatorio geral sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de soldados,”
ADBPVR; information on signs of alleged causes of death and additional details on signs of
torture also from Geralsélia interview.

14. Dom Waldyr interview; Dom Waldyr, “Relatorio geral sobre a morte e o desapareci-
mento de soldados,” ADBPVR.

265

Introduction

did they seek to preserve that relationship during the conﬂict-ﬁlled 1970s. Even
Dom Hélder Camara——a key founder of the Popular Church and a pariah of the
regime—sought Church-state collaboration (Piletti and Praxedes 1997353-—54).5
The Bipartite addressed some of the Church’s institutional interests as Brazil’s
semi-ofﬁcial religion. And only Catholics participated in the religious delegation,
even though the Church was striving to build ecumenical relations with members
of minority Protestant religions who became its allies against the repression.7 In
effect, the bishops had proposed a modernized version of the moral concordat. The
Church would retain its leading political role, only now in the name of social justice
rather than purely in institutional and religious interests.

In its second, more pragmatic phase the commission focused on settling speciﬁc
Church-state conﬂicts. In 1972, for instance, the Bipartite defused a dispute over
Brazil’s 150th Independence Day Celebration that threatened to create a public
clash. Avoiding conﬂict prevented a deeper rift that neither side wanted. This result
was signiﬁcant for the regime. The military feared the clergy’s inﬂuence among the
people and needed the bishops’ (and the pope’s) approval in order to legitimate
authoritarian rule. More important, the generals were extremely sensitive about
maintaining a positive image abroad. The bishops and the Vatican criticized the
government, but they did not sever relations with it. In addition, the ofﬁcers at the
Bipartite made a case for the government’s achievements and warned the bishops
about the armed revolutionary threat. The bishops received few concessions, but
dialogue saved the Church from even harsher reprisal and beneﬁted it in other ways
as well (as discussed below).

Understanding a Paradox: Compromise and Public Versus Private Positions

The revelation of the Bipartite points out the need to reinterpret the bishops’
modus operandi. With General Muricy and the officers pressuring them to tone
down their criticisms and to curb the activist clergy, the bishops took great care to
avoid the appearance of supporting alleged subversion and even worked to deter it.
Publicly, through its famous pronouncements, the CNBB radicalized the bishops’
opposition, but privately, the leadership temporized in order to avoid confronta-
tion. These bishops were able, ﬂexible politicians working to safeguard their insti-
tution and its traditional inﬂuence in Brazilian society. Opposition was not
absolute; it was susceptible to negotiation. The Bipartite was a valuable reminder
that leaders often form two faces: an idealist one for the public and a pragmatic one
for Realpolitik.

The public/ private dichotomy placed the bishops in a paradox. How could they

Notes to Pages 191-96

15. “Sentenga,” Processo 17/72, Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciaria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973, pp. 16-17.

16. Interview of Dom Waldyr by Célia Costa and Dulce Chaves Pandolﬁ, Volta Redonda,
Nov. 19, 1998.

17. Dom Waldyr interview. Colonel Arioswaldo refused to be interviewed for this book,
claiming that it would deeply upset his family to reopen discussion of the incident (author’s
telephone conversation with retired Colonel Arioswaldo, Rio de Janeiro, May 7, 1997).

18. Dom Waldyr, “Relatorio geral sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de soldados,”
ADBPVR.

19. Dom Waldyr and Geralsélia interviews. Because of military distrust and hatred of
Dom Waldyr and the ongoing investigations against the bishop, Geralsélia had to swear dur-
ing the subsequent proceedings against the Barra Mansa torturers that she did not know
him.

20. Dom Humberto Mozzoni to Dom Waldyr, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 21, 1972, ADBPVR.

21. Sampaio interview; and see Sergio de Ary Pires, “Perﬁl de um soldado” (advertise-
ment), ]B, Nov. 12, 1990, p. 2. For backgroundon Pires, see this article and also Albuquerque
1985. The judge in the case attributed Sampaio’s selection to Frota (Sussekind interview).
Frota’s importance over Pires was also expressed by General Octavio Costa; see D’Araujo,
Soares, and Castro 1994a:274; Octavio Costa interviews 2 and 3.

22. For a copy of Dom Waldyr’s report, see Dom Waldyr, “Fatos que recentemente
impressionaram a populagao de Volta Redonda,” Jan. 24, 1972, ADBPVR. The January 24,
1972, meeting at the CNBB is conﬁrmed in Dom Waldyr’s private letter to the Brazilian bish-
ops, Volta Redonda, Feb. 11, 1972, ADBPVR. Additional conﬁrmation of the conversation of
Dom Waldyr, Geralsélia, and Dom Ivo from Geralsélia interview.

23. “Relatorio geral sobre a morte e o desaparecimento de soldados,” ADBPVR. Early on,
ofﬁcials from the military justice system asked Private Geomar’s sister Geralsélia, the only
relative of the victims to become involved in the investigation, not to inform Private
Mongads family of their son’s death. Only in March did the family learn of Mong:5o’s true
fate (Geralsélia interview).

24. “Médici recebe Murici,” ]B, Feb. 1, 1972, sec. 1, p. 3; “Muricy trata da ADESG com
Médici,”]B, Feb. 2, 1972, sec. 1, p. 3. According to the latter article, Bipartite member Padilha
also took part in the ADESG discussion. However, Padilha did not recall meeting Médici on
this occasion and doubted that Muricy would have gone to Brasilia to discuss a matter so
insigniﬁcant as the internal organization of the ADESG (Padilha interview 2). Another
ADESG leader reported to have attended the meeting also had no recollection of it (Araken
Faissol interview).

25. Dom Mozzoni to Dom Waldyr, Rio de Janeiro, Feb. 4, 1972, ADBPVR.

26. See, for example, “lnvestigagﬁo mata soldados,” OESP, Feb. 6, 1972, p. 30.

27. Dom Waldyr to General Orlando Geisel, Volta Redonda, Feb. 21, 1972, ADBPVR.

28. The description of Manes Leitao from Sussekind interview.

29. The charges against the men included infractions under the following articles of the
Brazilian Military Penal Code: 53 (accomplice to a crime), 205 (murder, including the use of
torture), 209 (assault), 264 (damage to military installations), and 352 (destruction of evi-
dence); see Oliveira 1996. General Pires assigned prosecution of the contraband to another
colonel. I was unable to discover any documentation on this inquest.

30. Another version states that General Frota chose the jury; written response to the

266

Notes to Pages 196-99

author’s questions to General Augusto César da Fonseca Lessa, Rio de Janeiro, April 22, 1997.

31. “Ata No. o1——sess§o de Conselho Especial de Justiga,” Jan. 17-22, 1973, ADBPVR.; also
see “Sentenca,” Processo 17/ 72, Justiga Militar, 1a. Circunscricao Judiciéria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973; “Oito militares sao punidos com rigor,” OESP, Jan. 23,

. 1973, p. 21.

32. “Sentenga,” Processo 17/72, Iustiga Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciaria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973; details on the visit also from Sussekind interview.

33. “Ata No. o1——sessao de Conselho Especial de Justiga,” Jan. 17-22, 1973, ADBPVR.; also
see “Sentenga,” Processo 17/ 72, Justica Militar, 1a. Circunscricao Judiciaria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973.

34. “Sentenga,” Processo 17/72, Justica Militar, 1a. Circunscrigao Judiciéria Militar, 2a.
Auditoria do Exército, Jan. 22, 1973.

35. Ibid.

36. “]ustica exemplar,” ]B, Jan. 24, 1973, p. 22; “Um julgamento que honra o Exército,”
OESP, Jan. 24, 1973, p. 3. For other coverage of the sentencing, see “Auditoria condena a 473
anos réus do I BIB, de Barra Mansa,” O Globo, Jan. 23, 1973, p. 10; “Oito militares sao punidos
com rigor,” OESP, Jan. 23, 1973; “Mai-s longo julgamento da Justica Militar condena 1o acu-
sados a 291 anos,” ]B, Jan. 23, 1973; “Militares do BIB e agentes policiais condenados pela
auditoria,” Zero Hora (Porto Alegre), Jan. 27—Feb. 3, 1973; “Oﬁciais punidos,” Veja, Jan. 31,
1973, p. 25.

37. In 1971 Médici ﬁred his Air Force Minister for failing to control an ofﬁcer who abused
political prisoners; in 1976 Geisel removed the Second Army commander for similar reasons.
However, no trials or punishments of torturers resulted from these episodes. See D’Araujo,
Soares, and Castro 1994a:21o—28.

38. Lieutenant Miranda had been earlier denounced by Dom Waldyr; see Prandini,
Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:2:153—54; also Melo 1997b. One former political prisoner
asserted that Lieutenant Colonel Gladstone coordinated torture sessions at the 1st AIB; see
Melo and Noel 1997. While he was jailed at the 1st AIB in 1971, during which time he was tor-
tured, Father Nathanael de Moraes Campos saw that several of the accused in the Barra
Mansa case had witnessed earlier atrocities (Father Nathanael interview).

39. On the Brazilian armed forces’ historic tendency to create a kind of “collective amne-
sia” about violence against its own members, see Smallman 1997.

40. According to General Sampaio, the S2 saw themselves as the “owners” of security
questions at the 1st AIB (Sampaio interview). There is no evidence to support Niebus’s
defense lawyer’s implication, repeated more explicitly years later in General Ary Pires’s eulo-
gy of Walter Pires, that the S2 was involved in an antisubversive operation at the time of the
atrocities; for Ary Pires’s assertions, see his “Perﬁl de um soldado” (advertisement), ]B, Nov.
12, 1990, p. 2.

41. P[edido de] B[usca] no. 1039/ 81/ASI/TELERJ (DI/ 9369/ 81), DSI/Ministério das
Comunicagoes, APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “lnformagﬁo,” pasta 167, pp. 316-17; P[edido de]
B[usca] no. 1039/ 81/ASI/TELER] (Prot. DI-9369/ 81), DSI/ M. Minas e Energia,
APERJ/DOPS-GB, setor “Informag§o,” pasta 167, p. 153; also see “Sem punicao,” Veja, Sept.
2, 1987. This article incorrectly states that Niebus spent eleven years in prison. The period
from his initial jailing in 1972 to the start of his telephone company job in 1981 is approxi-
mately nine years, assuming that he moved directly from prison to work. Niebus refused an
interview.

267

Notes to Pages 199-204

42. In the words of Judge Sussekind, the Army had “vista grossa” with respect to human
rights violations against alleged subversives (Sussekind interview). A similar opinion is
expressed in Octavio Costa interview 2; also see Gazzotti1998:8o—81. Other interpretations
claim that some in the Army did try to stop torture. See, for instance, the discussion of
General Frota in D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro 1994a:62, 67-73, 105, 175-76; D’Araujo and
Castro 1997:224, 362; Couto 1998:219.

43. Comissao de Familiares 1996:178; “Anatalia Alves se suicida no Recife,” OESP, Jan. 23,
1973, p. 21.

44. In an egregious omission, human rights groups that defend the left failed to View the
four dead soldiers and their eleven tortured comrades as victims of the dictatorship. These
victims’ stories are absent, for instance, from one of the most recent and comprehensive
studies of regime violence, Comissao de Familiares 1996.

Chapter 10

1. For instance, the Leme case receives no mention in Skidmore 1988 or Couto 1998 and
only a scant reference in Mainwaring 1986:1o6.

2. Markun 1988:1o; also Stepan 1989.

3. Background on Leme from Egle and José Leme interviews and from Meuﬁlho Alexandre
Vannucchi n.d.

4. On the ALN, see chapters 2 and 6; also Paz 1996, 1997; Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1988;
Ridenti 1993; Mir 1994. On the student movement, see Martins Filho 1987; for a military
view, Ustra 1986; for police accusations, “Terrorista morre atropelado no Bras,” Folha de Sdo
Paulo, March 23, 1973.

5. Prado 1990; Prado and Fragelli 1990. See also the documentary ﬁlm “Vala Comum,”
directed by Joao Godoy (1994), and José 1997:1o1—o2.

6. For a basic outline of the publicly known events surrounding the Leme case, see
“Sintese cronolégica” 1973; Meuﬁlho Alexandre Vannucchi n.d.

7. Superior Tribunal Militar, Apelagao 40.425, AEL/BNM, case no. 670, vol. 1, pp. 1A, 1E,
1H, 94-95; vol. 3, pp. 300, 348, 350, 352.

8. Information on Queiroz’s evaluation from Paulo Vannuchi interview. Information on
the contact from Lazaro interviews. The police killed Queiroz shortly after the death of
Leme; see Comissao de Familiares 1996:2o2.

9. Carlos Eugenio Paz interview. Paz was the only ALN guerrilla leader to survive the
repression. For a description of his activities, see Paz 1996, 1997. Gorender (1998:228) esti-
mates that on average urban guerrillas lived only a year. On ALN strategy shifts in 1972 and
1973, see Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1988:48; Mir 1994:658—59.

1o. Ministério da Educagao e Cultura, Divisao de Seguranca e Informagoes,
Encaminhamento no. 1.034/ AESI/ USP/ 73, April 11, 1973, “Assunto: panﬂetagem na
Universidade de Sao Paulo,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oE/ 30/ 159.

11. The student was Alberto Alonso Lazaro; in interview 1 Lazaro denied the information
attributed to him. On his testimony and the other crimes, see Superior Tribunal Militar,
Apelagao 40.425, AEL/BNM, case no. 670, vol. 1, pp. 1B, 1C,1D;vol. 3, pp. 348, 452-53.

12. Magnotti to Lucio Vieira, director of the DEOPS, Sao Paulo, April 12, 1973,
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 3oZ/ 165/ 38.

13. Paz recalled that Penteado, who ate regularly in the restaurant to watch Oliveira,

268

Notes to Pages 204-7

heard the merchant brag that he had telephoned the DOI-CODI to inform on the presence
of ALN members in the establishment (Carlos Eugénio Paz interview).

14. See note 16 for discussion of other possible sources.

15. DOI-CODI agents expressed anger about this incident to political prisoners (Lazaro
interview 1). For a detailed description of the assassination, see Ustra 1986:212—18. On
Moreira Junior as torturer and right-wing militant, see Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1988:48;
also Mir 1994:659. ‘

16. A key leader of the security forces, General Adyr Fiuza de Castro recalled that “it was
very easy to inﬁltrate the student movement, because they were very amateurish” (D’Arauj 0,
Soares, and Castro 1994a:4o). For an example of inﬁltration, see the discussion below of the
students’ reaction to Leme’s death. DEOPS-SP and DOPS-GB documentation maintains the
anonymity of inﬁltrators. Information from as yet unopened DOI-CODI archives might pro-
vide the key to inﬁltrators’ identities and modus operandi and/ or to the depositions of pris-
oners who may have revealed information about Leme. Copies of DOI-CODI depositions
from other cases do exist in the DOPS and DEOPS-SP archives, but they do not reveal the
names of interrogators or informants. See, for example, Ministério do Exército, I Exército,
Informagao no. 404/ 74—C, “Assunto: depoimentos prestados no DOI/I Ex,” APER]/
DOPS-GB, setor “Comunismo,” pasta 128, pp. 1-26. On inﬁltrators and militants turned
informants, see Expedito Filho 1992.

17. Edsel Magnotti to Lucio Vieira, director of the DEOPS-SP, Sao Paulo, April 12, 1973,
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 30Z/ 165/ 38.

18. Ustra refused requests for an interview. Several former political prisoners interviewed
for this book affirmed that they had been beaten or tortured by Ustra; conﬁrmation also in
Marival Chaves interview.

19. See, for example, Coimbra 1995:99—1o7, 194-206; Expedito Filho 1992; Comissao de
Familiares 1996233; Archdiocese of Sao Paulo 1985. For a physician’s confession of collabora-
tion, see Lobo 1989.

20. Perhaps the torturers did not know that Leme had undergone an appendectomy in
late January; one source stated that the body “was bleeding profusely in the abdominal
region” (Comissao de Familiares 1996:174). However, this explanation for the presence of
blood is unlikely, because sufficient postoperation scar tissue would have formed by the time
of the torture. An alternative explanation is given below.

21. Father Vannucchi was quickly released under pressure from local leaders. The police
also had a ﬁle on him (Aldo Vannucchi interview). Information on the anti-Communist cli-
mate in Sorocaba from I050 Luiz Pecanha interview.

22. Lazaro interview 1; and see Superior Tribunal Militar, Apelacao 40.425, AEL/BNM,
case no. 670, vol. 3, p. 189.

23. Fax communication to author from Marival Chaves Dias do Canto (Vila Velha,
Espirito Santo), Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 28, 1997. A sergeant in the S50 Paulo DOI-CODI, in 1992
Canto became the ﬁrst (and to date only) member of a repressive organization to reveal in
detail his knowledge of abuses. Canto analyzed interrogation reports. See Expedito Filho,
1992; also see “Ex-sargento” 1996; also see Atengdo 2.8 (1996).

24. Vieira to Oscar Xavier de Freitas, Procurador Geral da Justica, Sao Paulo, April 12,
1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 30Z/ 165/ 39.

25. Superior Tribunal Militar, Apelagao 40.425, AEL/BNM, case no. 670, vol. 3, p. 362.

26. “Oficio esclarece morte de subversivo,” SEDOC 6 (July 1973): 103-05.

27. On the declaration, see Declaragdo Universal 1978; also see Castanho 1973.

269

Notes to Pages 207-11

28. “Comunicado do bispo de Sorocaba,” SEDOC 6 (July 1973): 105.

29. “Sintese cronologica” 1973:1o9; “Nota do conselho de presbiteros,” SEDOC 6 (July
1973): 106-07. '

30. Boletim Informativo (S510 Paulo) 6, March 26, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,”
doc. 50K/ 104/ 326; “A marca da cruz” 1978.

31. For details of student discussions, see “Resolugoes da assembléia de geologia,” Boletim
Informativo 6, March 26, 1973, p. 4, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. 50K/ 104/ 326.

32. “Comunicado dos centros académicos,” SEDOC 6 (July 1973): 107.

33. For the inﬁltrator’s information, see unsigned report titled “Observagoes realizadas
na USP,” March 29, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 50K/ 104/ 324.

34. On Dom Paulo’s attempts to contact Souza Mello, see “Relatério especial do grupo
bipartite, sobre problemas surgidos na area Igreja X governo, referentes 5 participacao do
clero nas comemoragoes do sesquicentenério do Brasil,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc.
nos. 989-90; doc. no. 993, p. 1. On his relations with S50 Paulo generals, see Arruda 1996.

35. See also Mayrink 1998. A DEOPS inﬁltrator was aware of the students’ intention to
contact Dom Paulo; see “Observacoes realizadas na USP,” March 29, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP,
series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 50K/ 104/ 324. According to another version, Dom Paulo at ﬁrst
wanted to use a smaller church, but the students convinced him they would ﬁll the cathedral
(Egle interview). Yet another version states that the students were at most blufﬁng and did
not really want a riot, but that Dom Paulo in any case feared that violence could occur
(Geraldo Siqueira interview).

36. For the text of the sheet, see “Celebragao da esperanga,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series
“Dossiés,” doc. no. 50C/ 22/ 9325; on press censorship, see “Comunicado do bispo de
Sorocaba,” 105.

37. This charge was made by MOLIPO in its document titled “Gloria aos que tombaram
lutando por seu povo!” See Ministério da Educacao e Cultura, Divisao de Seguranca e
lnformacoes, Encaminhamento No. 1.034/AESI/USP/73, April 11, 1973, “Assunto: panﬂe-
tagem na Universidade de S50 Paulo,” AESP, DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no.
50E/so/159.

38. For details on the mass, see Silva 1973; “A marca da cruz” 1978; “Brasil: Deus sera o
juiz,” the military’s translation of an article published in Latin America 3.16, April 29, 1973,
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. nos. 867-69; “Missa para um estudante morto,” Opinido,
(Rio de Janeiro), April 2-9, 1973; “Estudiantes protestan por compaﬁero asesinado,”
Campanha (Santiago, Chile), May 1, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no.
5oF/ 4/ 107.

39. Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns, “Palavras de fé sobre a Vida, a dignidade e a missao do
homem,” O Sdo Paulo, April 7, 1973. Dom Paulo’s citation is from the story of Cain and Abel
in the Book of Genesis, ch. 4.

40. Secretaria de Seguranca Publica, Delegacia Seccional de Policia—Botucatu,
“Relatorio,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oH/ 63/ 1428.

41. Comité de Adverténcia aos Que Estao em Perigo, “A morte de um terrorista,”
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 50Z/ 13/ 845.

42. Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns to Jarbas Passarinho, Sao Paulo, April 4, 1973, AESP/
DEOPS-SP, series “Ordem Politica,” pasta 14, doc. no. 64.

43. Ministério da Educacao e Cultura, Divisao de Seguranca e Informagoes, Informacﬁo
no. 1.049/ AESI/ USP/ 73, May 10, 1973, “Assunto: Marcos Alberto Castelhano Bruno,” AESP/
DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 50E/ 30/ 212.

270

Notes to Pages 211-13

44. Passarinho to Dom Paulo, Brasilia, June 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Ordem
Politica,” pasta 14, doc. no. 64. Parts of this letter were ﬁrst published in 1979; see Costa,
“lnvestigagao no clero,” 3-4. Passarinho (1996) does not comment on the Leme case in his
memoirs, which have two substantial chapters on education and the universities and on the
Médici government.

45. “Brasil: Deus sera o juiz,” the military’s translation of an article published in Latin
America 3.16, April 29, 1973, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 1, doc. no. 868, p. 2. A

46. For the text of one of the censored articles, see AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,”
doc. no. 5oZ/ 9/ 31631; for the text of the congressional debate, see Lysaneas Maciel, “Um
assassinato politico,” pamphlet distributed at the Pontiﬁcal Catholic University of Rio de
Janeiro (1974), APER]/DOPS—GB setor “DOPS,” pasta 217, docs. 126-37.

47. On the search for organizers, see, for example, Ministério da Educagao e Cultura,
Divisao de Seguranga e Informacées, Informagao no. 1.049/AESI/USP/ 73, May 1o, 1973,
“Assunto: Marcos Alberto Castelhano Bruno,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no.
5oE/3o/ 212; for interrogations of alleged organizers carried out by Edsel Magnotti, see
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. nos. 5oC/ 22/ 7202, 7206, 7207.

48. Companhia Paulista de Forga e Luz, Assessoria de Seguranga e Informagoes, Informe
no. 26/ASSI/ 10/ CS/ 73, April 30, 1973, “Assunto: recrudescimento de atividades esquerdis-
tas,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oJ/ o/ 2984. '

49. Ministério da Educagao e Cultura, Divisao de Seguranca e Informacoes,
Encaminhamento no. 1.033/ AESI/USP/ 73, April 10, 1973, “Assunto: panﬂetagem na
Universidade de Sao Paulo,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oE/ 30/ 158.

50. For Rio, see “Atuagao das esquerdas no movimento estudantil,” APER]/DOPS—GB,
setor “DOPS,” pasta 193, doc. nos. 477-92; for S50 Paulo, see Companhia Paulista de Forga e
Luz, Assessoria de Seguranga e Informagoes, Informe no. 26/ASSI/ 10/ CS/ 73, April 30, 1973,
“Assunto: recrudescimento de atividades esquerdistas,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,”
doc. no. 5o]/ 0/ 2984.

51. Ministério da Justiga, Departamento de Policia Federal, Centro de Informagoes,
Informacao no. 1512, “Assunto: movimento estudantil,” May 18, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP,
series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oZ/9/33962.

52. Miguel Reale to General Sérvulo Mota Lima, S50 Paulo, March 27, 1973,
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés”; Ministério da Aeronautica, Gabinete do Ministro, CISA,
Documento de Informagoes no. 13/ CISA-ESC RCD, “Assunto: movimento estudantil,” May
8, 1973, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oD/ 26/ 4388.

53. “Oficio esclarece morte de subversivo,” SEDOC 6 (July 1973): 103-05. General Lima’s
statement appeared in the Folha da T arde (Sao Paulo), OESP, 0 Dia, and other papers. In 0
Dia, for example, the headline read “Terrorista atropelado aliciava universitérios” (Run-over
terrorist lured university students); see FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 37, p. 2. As stat-
ed above, no record of any deposition by Leme has been found in the archives.

54. “Relatério do XVI encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 14, p. 2.

55. Ibid., doc. no. 13, p. 2; doc. no. 14, p. 1.

56. Mario de Passos Simas and José Carlos Dias to Judge Tacito Morbach de Goes Nobre,
Sao Paulo, April 10, 1973, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 13, p. 2; doc. no. 34, p. 2; doc.
no. 35; doc. no. 36, p. 1. “Petigao do advogado da familia do Alexandre Vannucchi,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 13, p. 2; doc. no. 36, p. 2; doc. no. 37, p. 1.

57. “Relatorio do XVI encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 14; doc.
no. 15, p. 1. Compare Lee’s comments with “Peticao do advogado da familia do Alexandre

271

Notes to Pages 214-20

Vannucchi,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 13, p. 2; doc. no. 36, p. 2; doc. no. 37, p. 1.

58. “Relatorio do XVI encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 15.

59. “Relatorio do XVII encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 39.

60. Ibid., doc. no. 40, p. 1.

61. “Relatério do XIX encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 96, p. 2.

62. Ibid., doc. no. 98, p. 2. V

63. Amnesty International, “Deaths in Custody in Brazil” (Jan. 1974), in AESP/
DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés.”

64. “Foi calmo 0 ‘Dia do Protesto,’” Dicirio da Noite, March 29, 1978; “Manifesto dos estu-
dantes paulistas,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 43C/ 1/ 27; “Manifesto,”
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oZ/ 3oo/ 2509; Divisao de Informacoes, setor
“Estudantil,” DOPS, RE 482/78, “Assunto: sessao de abertura do congresso nacional pela
anistia no Tuca, PUC-SP,” Nov. 2, 1978, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no.
5oZ/ 130/ 5116-22.

65. Egle and José Leme interviews; Congresso Nacional pela Anistia, “Resolugoes,”
AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5o]/ 0/ 6204; Direito USP, “Avancar na luta pela
anistia,” AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no. 5oZ/ 130/ 5285.

66. 3a. Delegacia da Divisao de Informagoes, DOPS, RE/ 326-79, “Assunto: encontro de
proﬁssionais de saude,” Aug. 24, 1979, AESP/DEOPS-SP, series “Dossiés,” doc. no.
5oZ/13o/ 2504-05; “O falso laudo de Alexandre Vannucchi,” fomal da Repziblica, Aug. 27,
1979-

67. For comparison with the Chilean case, see Lowden 199626, 33.

68. Della Cava 1989; Mainwaring 1986, part 3; Doimo 1992.

69. On Herzog, see Markun 1988; Almeida Filho 1978; Jordao 1984; Landau 1986;
Skidmore 1988:176—77; Skidmore 1989:11—12; Della Cava 19892148; Prandini, Petrucci, and
Dale 1986—1987:4:89—91; Wright 1989:72—73. Major U.S. newspapers and newsmagazines
published articles on the case. For differing military perspectives of the incident, see Soares,
D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:11, 33, 65, 86, 173-74, 214, 228-29. On the impact of the memori-
al service, see Pope 1985:437—38. On selective use of violence, see Gorender 1998:232.

7o. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986-1987:4:9o. Dom Paulo has also recalled the Leme
incident as the most startling of the 1970s (see Mayrink 1998).

71. Superior Tribunal Militar, Apelacao 40.425, AEL/BNM, case no. 670, vol. 3, p. 362.

72. DOI-CODI II EX, Informacao no. 569-SSA/DOI-73, Oct. 12, 1973, “Assunto: estratégia
para a tomada do poder,” APER]/DOPS—GB, setor “Comunismo,” pasta 126, pp. 94-99.

Chapter 11

1. President Joﬁo Café Filho (1954) was also Protestant. He was elected vice president in
1950 and served out only part of the remainder of Vargas’s term after the latter committed
suicide in August 1954.

2. Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale 1986—1987:4:148—5o. For Burnier, see chapter 7 in the
present work.

3. Muricy 1993:662-63; “Relatorio do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM,
roll 2, doc. no. 119, p. 2; doc. no. 120, p. 1; doc. no. 123.

4. “Relatério do XXIIo. encontro bipartite,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 119, p. 2;
doc. no. 120, p. 1 (quotation); doc. no. 123.

272

Notes to Pages 220-33

5. See examples of Church-state dialogue under Geisel in Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:Vols. 4, 5. In 1977, for instance, the so-called Missﬁo Portela, coordinated by
Senator Petronio Portela, opened contacts between the government and the opposition,
including the Church.

6. Maurice W. Kendall to Muricy, Rio de Ianeiro, Aug. 27, 1974, FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll
2, doc. no. 668, pp. 1-2; “Brief paper. Presentation of USAC&GSC Allied Ofﬁcer Hall of Fame
Certiﬁcate to General de Exército Antonio Carlos da Silva Muricy,” FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll
2, doc. no. 668, p. 3, doc. no. 669, p. 1; “Press release. Allied Officer Hall of Fame,”
FGV/CPDOC/ACM, roll 2, doc. no. 671, p. 3, doc. no. 672, p. 1.

7. Moraes Rego interview; and see Soares, D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:59—6o.

8. See, for example, the comments of Dom Ivo in Prandini, Petrucci, and Dale
1986—1987:5:15—16.

9. Dom Eugenio interview; Muricy interview 1; Sampaio interview; Candido Mendes
interview 2; Padilha interview 1; Dom Paulo interview (quotation). The attempt by the
Church and opposition forces in Chile to cultivate better relations with the military rein-
forced martial support for democracy in the twilight of the Pinochet regime (see Fleet and
Smith 1997:135, 137, 156). '

10. Similarly, in the 19303 Dom Leme allowed the clergy to participate in the Integralista
movement but did not give it official Church blessing. After its proscription, the Church
quickly disengaged from Integralismo. I am grateful to Lucia Lippi de Oliveira for calling this
parallel to my attention. McDonough (1981:191) also noted that the dissidence of the bishops
was tempered.

11. In 1997, for instance, the Church focused on the controversial theme of “Fraternity
and the Imprisoned” for its annual Lenten campaign (see CNBB 1997). On human rights,
also see Lowden 1996:75—91.

12. Of course, impediments to this goal predate the dictatorship (see Hess and DaMatta
1995). Nevertheless, the authoritarian era served to reinforce them.

13. In the Chilean case, Archbishop Juan Francisco Fresno most effectively contributed to
regime-opposition dialogue “not as a public critic but as convener and interlocutor among
critics,” and the Chilean episcopate “was most inﬂuential when it was least prophetic, when
it worked behind the scenes on behalf of compromise instead of denouncing evils and abus-
es publicly” (Fleet and Smith 1997:126, 272). y

14. See also Gill 1998:175; and the discussion of the multidimensionality of elite ideolo-
gies in McDonough 1981.

15. On elite settlements and exclusion, see Burton, Gunther, and Higley 1992:18—19;
Knight 1992:119.

273


References

Archives

Archivo de la Embajada de la Repﬁblica Argentina ante la Santa Sede
(AEAASS), Rome.

Arquivo Ana Lagoa, Universidade Federal de Sao Carlos, S50 Carlos, S50
Paulo.

Arquivo Antonio Carlos [da Silva] Muricy, Fundacao Getulio Vargas, Centro
de Pesquisa e Documentagao de Historia Contemporanea do Brasil, Rio
de Janeiro (FGV/CPDOC/ACM), Rio de Janeiro.

Arquivo da Diocese de Barra do Pirai—Volta Redonda (ADBPVR), Volta
Redonda.

Arquivo do Itamaraty, Brasilia.

Branca de Mello Franco Alves Collection, Biblioteca Cardeal Camara,
Arquidiocese do Rio de Janeiro (BMFA), Rio de Janeiro.

Brasil: Nunca Mais, Centro de Pesquisa e Documentagao Social, Associagao
Cultural Arquivo Edgard Leuenroth, Instituto de Filosoﬁa e Ciéncias
Humanas, Universidade Estadual de Campinas (AEL/BNM), Campinas,
Sao Paulo.

Central de Documentagao e Informacao Cientiﬁca “Prof. Casemiro dos Reis
Filho,” Pontificia Universidade Catélica de Sao Paulo (PUC—SP/CEDIC),
Sao Paulo.

Centro Alceu Amoroso Lima para a Liberdade (CAALL), Petrépolis.

Centro de Documentacién y Archivo para la Defensa de los Derechos
Humanos (“Archivo del Terror”) (CDADDH), Asuncion, Paraguay.

Colegao Jean Marc van Der Weid, Arquivo Publico do Estado do Rio de
Ianeiro (APERJ/Jean Marc van Der Weid Collection), Rio de Janeiro.

Departamento de Ordem Politica e Social da Guanabara, Arquivo Publico
do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (APERJ/DOPS-GB), Rio de Janeiro.

Departamento Estadual de Ordem Politica e Social, Arquivo do Estado de
Sao Paulo (AESP/DEOPS-SP), S50 Paulo.

Instituto Nacional de Pastoral, Conferéncia Nacional dos Bispos do Brasil
(INP), Brasilia.

National Security Archive, Washington, D.C.

275

Secret Dialogues

Introduction

compromise their public voice on certain political issues but stubbornly adhere to
it on human rights? How could they seek collaboration and still criticize the
regime’s violence? Why enter talks that promised much for the generals but endan-
gered the Church’s moral standing? Why dialogue with the enemy? Resolving the
paradox clariﬁes the bishops’ motives and teases out the complexities and ambigu-
ities of the Church-military conﬂict.

In hindsight, dialogue with a violent, insensitive military government seems
incomprehensible, even lamentable. But let us return in history. The Bipartite
began before the worst moments of Médici’s term. In late 1970 the repression was
severe, but nobody could foretell how terrible it would become or how long it
would last. And it did become worse. Dialogue appeared as a new prospect for end-
ing Church-state tension. As religious men, the bishops believed in hope. At ﬁrst
they were naive about the government’s stated desire for Church-state collabora-
tion, which seemed plausible in light of previously harmonious relations. Initially
they were also naive about the repression, which they believed could be reduced
through cooperation.

Then, as ideological and political differences remained unresolved, the
Bipartite’s primary focus shifted to human rights. This shift coincided with the
strengthening of the Church’s public, moral opposition. Thus the Church simulta-
neously criticized the regime and attempted to preserve the political inﬂuence it
had enjoyed. The moral concordat became moral opposition.

Dialogue was useﬁil. In a century of radically polarized political systems and
ideologies it has allowed enemies to coexist and the weak to survive. Dialogue
proved especially effective at the height of the cold war in the 19603 and 1970s. The
United States and the Soviet Union agreed to live in “peaceful coexistence” while
negotiating an end to the Cuban missile crisis, arms controls, a ban on atmospher-
ic nuclear testing, and détente. Not just a “balance of terror” but also “mutual
understanding” kept the United States and the Soviets from war (Craig and
Loewenheim 1994:4). In the early 1970s, dialogue temporarily halted the Vietnam
War, defused crises in the troubled Middle East, and opened relations between
Communist China and the West. Dialogue could be a messy and risky process.
Frequently it left behind losers and victims. It was often secret, as Machiavellian
masters of back-channel diplomacy such as Henry Kissinger regularly illustrated.8
Secret talks also took place in the late 1970s in the return to democracy in Peru and
the Dominican Republic.9 In a world of hatred, violence, and human shortcomings,
dialogue was often the best in an imperfect set of options.

The Catholic Church dialogued with governments of all kinds. Although the

6

References

Interviews

Italicized portions of names indicate how the interview is referenced in the notes.
Numbers in parentheses indicate multiple interviews with the same individual. All interview
notes, tapes, and transcripts are in the possession of the author.

Candido [Antonio José Francisco] Mendes de Almeida, Rio de Janeiro, (1) Aug. 9, 1994; (2)
July 5, 1995; (3) April 10. 1997.

Anonymoas interview with former DOPS-GB oﬁicer, Rio de Janeiro, March 10, 1997.

Evilasio dejesus Araujo, Brasilia, June 11, 1993.

Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns, Sao Paulo, Sept. 10, 1996.

Father Fernando Bastos de Avila, Rio de Janeiro, July 10, 1995.

Marina Bandeira, Rio de Janeiro, July 4, 1994.

General Roberto Paczﬁco Barbosa, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 24, 1999.

Mario Gibson Barboza, Rio de Janeiro, April 3, 1997.

Raimundo Caramara de Barros, Brasilia, Feb. 7, 1990.

Father Nathanael de Moraes Campos (Belo Horizonte), Rio de Janeiro, telephone interview,

May 13, 1997.

Marival Chaves Dias do Canto, Vila Velha, Espirito Santo, Jan. 20, 1999.

Dom Pedro Casaldaliga, Belo Horizonte, July 18, 1995.

Dom Amaury Castanho, Itu, Sept. 20, 1996.

Cecilia Coimhra, Rio de Janeiro, Nov. 9, 1996.

General Octavio [Pereira da] Costa, Rio de Janeiro, (1) Aug. 12, 1994; (2) March 1, 1997; (3)

March 17, 1997.

Dalmo Dallari, S50 Paulo, Sept. 11, 1996.

Adriano Diogo, S50 Paulo, May 19, 1997.

Arlete Diogo, S50 Paulo, May 19, 1997.

General Carlos Alberto Fontoura, Rio de Janeiro, Aug. 12, 1994.

Margarida Genevois, S50 Paulo, Sept. 11, 1996.

Dom Mario Teixeira Gurgel, Itabira, July 18, 1996.

Father Frederico Karl Laafer, Porto Alegre, Aug. 13, 1989.

Alberto Alonso Lazaro (S50 Paulo), Rio de Janeiro, (1) telephone interview, Jan. 14, 1997; (2)

personal interview, S50 Paulo, May 18, 1997.

Egle Vannucchi Leme, Sorocaba, Sept. 19, 1996.

fosé de Oliveira Leme, Sorocaba, Sept. 19, 1996.

Ivo Leshaapin, Rio de Janeiro, July 14, 1994.

General Augusto César da Fonseca Lessa, Rio de Janeiro, April 22, 1997.

Heitor Corréa Maarano, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 16, 1997.

General Antonio Carlos da Silva Muricy, Rio de Janeiro, (1) June 17, 1993; (2) July 14, 1995; (3)

March 1, 1997.

Virginia Ramos da Silva Maricy, Rio de Janeiro, March 1, 1997.

Togo Meirelles Netto, Rio de Janeiro, March 21, 1997.

Virgilio Rosa Netto, Rio de Janeiro, July 5, 1995.

Marcos Noronha, Belo Horizonte, July 20, 1996.

Dom Waldyr Calheiros de Novaes, Volta Redonda, Feb. 14, 1997.

Tarcisio Meirelles Padilha, Rio de Janeiro, (1) July 15, 1994; (2) May 10, 1997.

Carlos Eugénio Sarmento Coelho da Paz, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 30, 1997.

276

References

fodo Laiz Gonzaga Peganha, Sorocaba, Sept. 18, 1996.

Father Ernanne Pinheiro, S50 Paulo, July 27, 1995.

Araken Faissol Pinto, Rio de Janeiro, telephone interview, March 13, 1997.
Jose Prestes de Barros, Sorocaba, Sept. 17, 1996.

Father Agostinho Pretto, Nova Iguagu, July 3, 1996.

Father Mario Prigol, Rio de Janeiro, July 10, 1996.

Cﬁndido Feliciano da Ponte Neto, Rio de Janeiro, July 7, 1995.

Father Gervdsio Queiroga, Belo Horizonte, July 17 and 18, 1995.

General Gustavo Moraes Rego Reis, Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 15, 1997.

Admiral Roberval Pizarro Marques, Rio de Janeiro, July 13, 1995.

Evangelina de Assis Ribeiro, Volta Redonda, Dec. 29, 1998.

Lisete Lidia de Silvio Russo, S50 Paulo, Sept. 30, 1996.

Dom Eugenio de Araﬁjo Sales, Rio de Janeiro, July 7, 1995.

General Mério Ribeiro Orlando Sampaio, Rio de Janeiro, April 8, 1997.
Geralsélia Ribeiro da Silva, Volta Redonda, April 12, 1997.

Maria Aparecida de Jesus da Silva, Volta Redonda, Dec. 29, 1998.

Mario dos Passos Simas, S50 Paulo, Sept. 30, 1996.

Geraldo Augusto de Siqueira Filho, S50 Paulo, March 15, 1998.

Father Orestes Jo5o Stragliotto, Belo Horizonte, July 19, 1995.

Tibor Sulik (1) Luzi5nia, Goiés, July 26, 1994; (2) Rio de Janeiro, July 6, 1995.
Helmo de Azevedo Sassekind, Rio de Janeiro, March 26, 1997.

Maria Amélia (Amelinha) de Almeida Teles, S50 Paulo, May 19, 1997.
Father Virgilio Leite Uchoa (1) Brasilia, June 10, 1993; (2) Luziﬁnia, July 26, 1994.
Aldo Vannucchi, Sorocaba, Sept. 19, 1996.

Paulo de Tarso Vannuelzi, S50 Paulo, Sept. 11, 1996.

Luiz Viegas de Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, (1) Aug. 27, 1996; (2) Aug. 29, 1996.
Eﬁgénia Mong5o Virote, Volta Redonda, April 11, 1997.

Pedro Paulo Virote, Volta Redonda, April 11, 1997.

Newspapers and Periodicals Consulted
(abbreviations in brackets)

Boletim do Clero (da Arquidiocese do Rio de Janeiro), Rio de Janeiro.
Comunieado Mensal (da CNBB) [CM], Rio de Janeiro.

0 Estado de Sdo Paulo [OESP], S50 Paulo.

lornal do Brasil UB], Rio de Janeiro.

Revista Eclesiastica Brasileira [REB], Petrépolis.

Servigo de Documentagdo [SEDOC], Petrépolis.

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Abreu, Hugo. 1979. O oatro lado do poder. Rio de Janeiro: Editora Nova Fronteira.
Actes do Tribunal Russell 11. 1974. Rome.

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285

Introduction

modern era sharply reduced its overt political inﬂuence, it remained a major force
in world diplomacy. The Church is a multinational institution par excellence with
embassies around the globe. It has adjusted its approach according to the histori-
cal, political, and religious circumstances of each country, including the strength of
the opposition, the degree of state repression, notions of patriotism, the previous
record of Church-state relations, and the balance of forces within the Church.“ The
level of competition from other religions is also an important factor. As a result,
the Church has had a mixed record with respect to authoritarianism and repres-
sion.”

For instance, as one scholar has observed, Pope Pius XI (1922-1939) “negotiated
with all types of governments to attain as many concessions as possible for the
church.” Under him the Church signed concordats with the totalitarian regimes of
Italy and Germany and thereby undercut early opposition to fascism, although in
1937 the pope denounced Nazi crimes against the Church. European episcopates
responded differently to fascism and the Nazi persecution of the Jews. The Vatican,
the official Church headquarters in Rome, remained silent on the Holocaust, but it
did undertake many efforts to save Jews.” The Mexican Church fought that coun-
try’s anticlerical revolutionary regime for nearly two decades before arriving at an
understanding that barred the clergy from public life but allowed it to remain
involved in society.” A network of informal Church-state ties and collaboration
underlay this arrangement (Reich 1995). Pius XI supported the fascist strongman
Francisco Franco in the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939), and the Church had a high-
ly privileged role as an institutional and ideological pillar of the Franco regime
(1939-1975) before shifting to a more democratic stance at the end. In pre-1964
Brazil, the Church had considerable political inﬂuence, but it was also used by lead-
ers, as Vargas demonstrated during the dictatorial phase known as the Estado Novo
(1937-1945) with his manipulation of the Church and the “Jewish Question” (Lesser
1995, esp. ch. 5). Later in the Philippines the Church played an important part in the
overthrow of dictator Ferdinand Marcos.

The tendency to dialogue intensiﬁed after the Second Vatican Council (Vatican
II, 1962-1965), which initiated Catholic relations with other religions and even dia-
logue with Marxism, the anathema of traditional Catholicism. Pope Paul V1
(1963-1978) instituted a period of Oslpolitik in which the Church negotiated with
Eastern European Communist countries to safeguard religious freedom. In Poland,
a highly autonomous Church undergirded the Solidarity union movement against
Communism in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Back-channel understandings and
secret meetings and missives were an essential part of Pope John Paul II’s involve-

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293


Index

Numbers in italic refer to illustrations.

abertura: descompresseio as forerunner to, 13,
91-92; documenting the past after, 17-20;
Geisel’s control of, 10, 219, 221; Golbery in,
124, 172

Acao Popular Marxista-Leninista, 172

activism. See social activism

ADESG. See Associacao dos Diplomados da
Escola Superior de Guerra

Advanced Institute for Brazilian Studies (ISEB),
28, 91

agrarian reform. See reforms

Aguiar, Rafael de Souza, 63

AI-5. See Institutional Act No. 5 (AI-5)

AIB (Brazilian Integralist Action), 25

Air Force, not on Bipartite Commission, 104

Air Force Information and Security Center
(CISA), 30, 41

Albuquerque, Walter Pires de Carvalho e, 56,
193"94

Alceu. See Lima, Alceu Amoroso

Aleixo, Pedro, 64

Allende, Salvador, 8, 121-22

Almeida, Candido Antonio José Francisco de, 117;
advocating liberalization, 219, 224-25; back-
ground of, 90-91; and beginning of Bipartite
Commission, 88, 90-93; character of, 16-17;
evaluation by, of Bipartite Commission, 97,
223; and Father Francois Jentel, 129; on femi-
nism, 156; and Golbery, 172, 219; Grupo da
Situagao criticism of paper by, 123-24; and
human rights abuses, 10, 171-72, 185; and
Leme case, 213-14, 218; and Medellin state-
ment, 116, 121-22; and Muricy, 10, 97, 129,
140; perceptions of, 111, 231; on Pontiﬁcal
Peace and Justice Commission, 170-72; pres-
suring military for information, 179, 185; pro-
posal for Church-state collaboration, 116-18,

129, 222-23, 231; role in Bipartite
Commission, 3, 10, 102-03, 115, 233; and tor-
ture, 80, 175; use of informal meetings by,
140, 143

Almeida, Father Luciano Mendes de, 91

Almeida, Moacyr Gomes de, 101

ALN. See National Liberating Action

Alves, Branca de Mello Franco, 72-73

Alves, Mércio Moreira, 60, 136; denouncing
repression, 31, 69; description of Dom
Eugenio by, 12

Amaral, Itiberé Gouveia do, 63

Amazon region: guerrilla warfare in, 32; regime’s
development in, 160

Amerindians: Dom Pedro aiding, 146, 148; sup-
port of Popular Church for rights of, 38

amnesty, 69; for exiles, 12, 219; under Figueiredo,
219; for torturers, 219, 228

Amnesty International, on Leme killing, 215

amnesty movement, 215

anti-Communism: of Church, 118; Church and
military agreement on, 65, 155, 221; Dom
Eugenio downplaying importance of, 121, 123,
230; effects of military’s obsession with, 74,
152; as justiﬁcation for military interference
in politics, 28-29; military focus on, 221;
regime’s tactics in, 166, 188; vs. not in favor of
Communism, 121, 123. See also Communism

Antoine, Charles, 37

archives. See documentation, of torture

Argentina, 32; Church-state relations in, 8, 234

armed forces: Army vs. other branches of, 104;
attacks by, on Church, 38-39; attacks by, on
Dom Hélder, 62-63; in Bipartite
Commission, 104, 220; budget of, 172, 182;
Castello Branco not allowing in elections, 60;
clashing with Church, 16, 97, 136-42; com-

2-95

Introduction

ment in this drama and the subsequent downfall of the Soviet empire (Bernstein
and Politi 1996).

By the mid-1970s most of Latin America had fallen under the control of author-
itarian regimes that frequently attacked the Church. The Church’s new emphasis
on human rights passed through the ﬁlter of particular national circumstances. As
a result, it took positions on dictatorship that ranged from opposition to outright
collaboration with the repressive forces. In Chile, the Church’s experience some-
what paralleled the Brazilian bishops’ public resistance to authoritarianism.
During the government of socialist President Salvador Allende (1970-1973), the
Chilean bishops followed the Church’s usual strategy in diﬂicult political situations:
it stressed moderation and reconciliation while defending ecclesiastical prestige.
After General Augusto Pinochet overthrew Allende, the bishops ﬁrst backed him
and did little to protest repression. They quickly became critical, however, as the
security forces continued to kill and “disappear” large numbers of people. Cardinal
Raul Silva Henriquez set up a Vicariate of Solidarity to defend human rights and to
aid the poor. This program intertwined religious, humanitarian, and political
motives to provide one of the most incisive examples of moral opposition to
authoritarian rule in Latin America.“ The Church helped topple Paraguayan dicta-
tor Alfredo Stroessner (Carter 1991) and Nicaraguan despot Anastasio Somoza, and
Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero and some priests preached the right of insur-
rection against the militaristic government of El Salvador. Romero was assassinat-
ed in March 1980.

A striking contrast came in Argentina, where the most conservative bishops

9“

openly supported the armed forces dirty war” against the opposition. Thousands
died or disappeared, including some opposition priests and bishops. Perquisites
for the clergy, doctrinaire conservatism, and close ties between chaplains and sol-
diers in the military Vicariate led to this extreme position (Mignone 1990). Those
bishops who opposed the repression lodged their protests in private——apparently
with few results (Klaiber 1997:136—37). Factions within the Church usually opposed
the majority’s decision to support or to oppose a regime, and at times deep splits
formed. In Nicaragua, for instance, the People’s Church collaborated openly with
the revolutionary Sandinista government whereas conservatives harshly criticized
it (Kirk 1992; Stein 1999). The Church also helped to bring about peace between
governments and guerrillas, for example, in El Salvador in 1991 and 1992 and after
the Zapatista rebellion in Chiapas, Mexico, in 1994.

The repression and political polarization in Brazil made Contact appear unlike-
ly between the military and the Church’s moderates and progressives, but the

Index

(armed forces continued)
pared with Church, 13-14, 51, 133-34; dis-
cussing human rights abuses, 11, 172; effects
of AI-5 on, 31; factionalism within, 10, 14, 53,
229, 231; and giving up presidency, 219; and
Independence Day celebrations, 136-42; as
institution, 14; lack of control over rank and
ﬁle, 126-27; loss of respect for Church, 88;
loss of trust in, 191; under Médici, 12-17; and
relations with Church, 13-14, 16; respect of,
for Church, 88, 221; and secrecy of Bipartite
Commission, 107-08; security forces as can-
cer within, 224; spiritism within, 158; taking
control of government, 37-38, 64; thinking
of, on the Church, 18-20; View of, of own
role, 14, 132, 232; vs. political elite, 16; vs.
resistance, 32, 175-79; weapons on parade,
137. See also Army; intelligence agencies; mili-
tary regime; security forces

arms, exported under military regime, 35

Army, 214; achievements of Bipartite Commission
in, 221-25; acting as police, 188; atrocities of,
against opposition, 60, 147; and Barra Mansa
deaths, 186-99; Barra Mansa murders in,
192-96; and conﬂict with CNBB, 138; curbing
human rights abuses by, 60; efforts to
improve image of, 79, 147; factionalism with-
in, 30-31; ﬁght against Communism by,
28-29, 53; followers of Umbanda in, 43; gen-
erals’ lack of control over, 126-27, 172,
198-99; investigating torture in, 189, 192-96;
investigation of Church by, 41, 147; involve-
ment of, in contraband, 188, 190, 196;
Muricy’s desire for unity in, 53, 56-57;
Muricy’s positions in, 53-55, 60, 63-64;
opposition to Goulart in, 55-56; relations of,
with Church, 22-47, 41, 44-45, 220; respect
for Church in, 100, 103-4; successful human
rights cases against, 180; torture within, 106,
185, 192-96, 198-99, 227; in Tripartite
Encounters, 84; vs. guerrillas, 147. See also
armed forces; intelligence agencies; security
forces

Army Information Center (CIE), 106; and
Celebragoes Litzirgicas, 139; intelligence from
Bipartite Commission meetings to, 109; and
intelligence used at Bipartite Commission
meetings, 110-11; representatives at Bipartite
Commission meetings, 104-05, 127, 140; vs.
guerrillas, 147. See also intelligence agencies

Army Ministry: and Bipartite Commission, 104,
109, 220; control of intelligence gathering, 30

296

Arns, Dom Paulo Evaristo: in Bipartite
Commission, 101-02, 108, 140; on effective-
ness of Bipartite Commission, 143, 224; as
founder of Sao Paulo Peace and Justice
Commission, 171-72; Golbery meeting with,
172, 219, 225; in Grupo N5o—Violéncia, 167; as
leader in the opposition, 11, 44-46; and Leme
case, 200, 210-11, 216; mass for Herzog by,
217; mass for Leme by, 208-9, 209, 217; mili-
tary response to, 142-43, 184; moderating
role of, 142-43, 216; named as cardinal, 208,
209; and O Sao Paulo, 181; perceptions of, 143,
162; and sesquicentennial celebration,
136-38, 140; working against human rights
abuses, 40, 131, 139, 172, 217, 230

Arraes, Miguel, 56-58

arrests: of Catholic radicals, 38; of Leme, 202; of
S2 torturers, 196. See also detentions

Artola, Father José Sainz, 128

assassinations: of Carlos Marighella, 39, 130; of
Father Joao Bosco Penido Burnier, 146-47; of
Paulo Stuart Wright, 172. See also murders

Associagao dos Diplomados da Escola Superior
de Guerra (ADESG), 96, 124-25, 160

authoritarianism: beneﬁts of, 152; in Brazilian
politics, 15, 28; of Brazil’s generals, 14; Church
record with, 7; hard-liners pushing regime
further into, 30; in Latin America, 8-9. See
also military regime

Avelar, Dom Estevao Cardoso, 147

Avila, Father Fernando Bastos de, 85, 92, 176

Baggio, Dom Sebastiano, 70, 74, 84; activism of,
73, 147

Bandeira, General Antonio, 182-83

Bandeira, Marina, 171

Barbosa, Roberto Paciﬁco, 105-06, 130, 234

Barboza, Mario Gibson, 72, 108, 154

Barra Mansa barracks, torture at, 188-90,189, 198

Barra Mansa barracks deaths, 127, 186—99,187;
Army admission of wrongdoing in, 10-11,
188, 194-95, 199; Army cover-up of, 186,
192-94; discussed at Bipartite Commission,
186,188, 194-95, 199, 227; effects of, on
regime, 188, 198, 227; and families of victims,
190-95, 198-99, 228; investigation into, 106,
186, 188-90, 192-97; protests at, 10, 192, 231;
and punishment for killers, 186, 197-99, 228;
and torture, 186, 191, 195-96

Basic Ecclesial Communities (CEBs), 38, 174; and
Medellin statement, 115, 120

Basic Education Movement (MEB), 36, 59; mod-

eled on Rural Assistance Service (SAR) pro-
grams, 59
Bastos, Joaquim Justino Alves, 60
Benelli, Dom Giovanni, 70
Bezerra, Father Almery, 58, 60
Bipartite Commission, 13, 225; achievements of,
83, 142-43, 208, 221-25; balance of power in,
9, 164; on Barra Mansa murders, 194-95;
beginning of, 92-94; beneﬁts to Church
from, 155-59, 161-63, 226, 234; beneﬁts to
state from, 142, 161-63; Church maintaining
privileged role through, 155-58, 234; deﬁning
subversion vs. social activism at, 114; and dif-
ferences from earlier dialogues, 88, 101; dis-
satisfactions with, 99-100; Dominican affair
not discussed by, 131-32; on ecumenical tem-
ple in Brasilia, 158-59; effectiveness of, 122,
223-24; elite membership of, 16-17, 88,
90-92, 97, 100-102, 112, 233; Geisel wanting
to phase out, 219- 20; goals of, .15-17, 106-12,
115, 152-61, 222, 233; handling cases of eccle-
siastical honor by, 159-61, 233;~history of,
2-3, 17-19, 219-20; human rights abuses dis-
cussed by, 6, 10-11, 164, 171, 175-80; Leme
case discussed at, 200-201, 208, 212-15, 218;
limitations of, 224, 232; meetings of, 97-103,
100, 109, 115, 128; membership of, 3, 130,
143-52, 231, 233; opposition to, 10, 94, 102;
and public/ private dichotomy, 226; Radio 9
de Julho discussed at, 184; regime goals from
participation in, 106-12; secrecy of, 97,
107-08, 220; sesquicentennial celebration
negotiated at, 140, 142-44; special meeting
of, with Dom Fernando, 149-52; subversion
in Church discussed by, 128, 223; success on
some human rights cases discussed by,
179-80, 185
birth control, Church stance on, 155-56
bishops: and Bipartite Commission, 99, 101-04,

107-08, 152-55, 220; and Brazil’s image, as
public relations problems for military rule,
43-44, 71; calling for reforms, 35; censorship
of, 144, 149, 182; commitment to human
rights, 133-34, 164, 206-07, 227-28; concern
of, about frayed Church-state relations, 141;
cooperation with regime by, giving in on
Celebragﬁes Litzirgicas, 144; criticizing regime,
101, 217, 221; divisiveness among, 37, 71-72,
149; ecclesiastical honor of, 39, 159-61; effects
of Bipartite Commission on, 161-62, 223;
effects of Vatican II on, 36-37; emphasis of,
on social justice vs. national security, 133-34;

Index

and Geisel, 220-21; and human rights abus-
es, 38, 71, 141-42, 217; inﬂuence of, on regime,
87-88, 157; intelligence—gathering at Bipartite
Commission meetings, 105, 109, 111-12; intel-
ligence on, 41; making human rights political
issue through Bipartite Commission, 227-28;
at Medellin CELAM conference, 116; and
Medellin statement, 121-23, 125; military’s
opinion of, 48, 72, 100, 119, 138, 143; and
mutual respect with military, 100, 221; as
opposition to regime, 2, 44-45, 221; protest
of, against Leme killing at Bipartite
Commission, 213-15; protest of, against tor-
ture, 139; protesting at Bipartite meetings, 99;
publication of radical documents by, 145;
publicly denouncing torture, 80; relations of,
with regime, 84-85, 87-88; repression of
39-40; response of, to coup against Goulart,
37-38; and subversion, 114, 126; and subver-
sive clergy, 101, 109-11, 126-31; trying to
locate imprisoned Jocistas, 86-87; Vatican’s
defense of, 70; view of, of own role in Brazil,
225, 232-33. See also National Conference of
the Bishops of Brazil

Bittencourt, Henrique Mariani, 170

Botelho, Expedito, 190

Brandao, Carlos Rodrigues, 145

Brasil: nunca mais, 12-13, 32, 215

Brasil: Nunca Mais project, 20, 165

Brasilia: cathedral in, 70, 153; ecumenical temple
in, 158-59

Brazil: effects of torture on image of, 11, 79-82,
86, 130-31, 164, 227; efforts to improve
national image of, 78-82, 154, 171, 221-22;
foreign campaign to tarnish image suspected,
70-71, 76-78, 90; independence of, from
Portugal, 138; modernization of, 22-25;
national image of, 2, 5, 130-31, 224, 228;
political elite in, 15-17; role of Church in
national identity of, 138-39, 221

Brazilian Academy of Letters, 16-17, 160

Brazilian Catholic Action (ACB), 36, 60, 160; and
security forces, 38, 41

Brazilian Catholic Church (schismatic), 158

Brazilian Communist Party (PCB), 28, 136, 202.
See also anti-Communism; Communism

Brazilian Democratic Movement (MDB), 16

Brazilian Development Institute (IBRADES):
attack on, 2, 85-88, 189-90; bishops’
response to attack on, 87-88; Dom Eugénio’s
reorganization of, 128-29; subversion by pro-
fessors of, 81

297

Index

Brazilian Expeditionary Force (FEB), 25, 53

Brazilian Federal Tourist Agency (EMBRATUR),
154

Brazilian General Staff College, 53

Brazilian Integralist Action (AIB), 25

Brazilian Labor Party, 55

Brazilian Military Commission, 54

Brazilian Society for Family Welfare (BEMFAM),
156"57

Brizola, Leonel, 55-56, 58, 232

Bruneau, Thomas, 12

Burnier, Father Joao Bosco Penido, 146-47, 219,
221

business, in Tripartite Encounters, 84

Buzaid, Alfredo, 72, 123, 128, 181; and bishops,
86-87, 138

Calderari, Arnaldo José, 89

Calley, William L., 197

Camara, Dom Hélder, 36, 62, 91, 149; on
Church-state relations, 5, 38, 84-85; dealings
of, with military regime, 26-27, 66; friend-
ship of, with Muricy, 49-50, 60; at mass for
Herzog, 217; at Medellin CELAM conference,
116; Muricy’s break with, 48, 60-63; organiza-
tional memberships of, 25, 35; as paragon of
moral concordat, 26-27; and political prison-
ers, 60, 180; relations with military regime,
38; repression of, 39, 167; tactics of, against
human rights abuses, 71-72, 76-78, 167

Camara, Dom Jaime de Barros, 26-27, 39, 167;
trying to locate imprisoned clergy, 86-87

Cﬁmara, Joao Xavier da, 26

Camara, Joel, 58-59

Campanha da Fraternidade, television public
service spots for, 159

Campo Grande, 147

Campos, Dom José Melhado, 207-08, 214

Campos, Father Nathanael de Moraes, 44

Candido Mendes, 24

Candido Mendes. See Almeida, Candido Antonio
José Francisco de

Canudos massacre, 24

capitalism: and Church’s third way proposal, 15,
115, 120, 223; criticized by bishops, 60, 145,
173

cardinals, 2, 17, 69; Dom Eugenio as, 66-68; and
Geisel, 22o

Cardoso, Fernando Henrique, 45, 46, 216

Carter, Jimmy, 215

Carvalho, Father Luiz Viegas de, 44

298

Carvalho, Omar Diogenes de, 93, 109, 121

Casa de Petréplis, torture at, 175

Casaldaliga, Dom Pedro, 146, 176; accused of sub-
version, 110-11, 147; aiding posseiros, 129,
147-48, 163; and Bipartite Commission, 102,
108, 163, 225; and Dom Fernando, 145-47

cassagiio (suspension of rights), 67-68

Castanho, Father Amaury, 38

Castellistas, 30, 219, 231

Castello Branco, Carlos, 13, 108

Castello Branco, Humberto de Alencar, 56, 60, 61,
220; bishops’ inﬂuence with, 2-3; and
Muricy, 53, 60, 63; presidency of, 29-30, 57;
relations of, with Church, 38, 127, 156

Castro, Father Ormindo Viveiros de, 85

Castro Filho, Father Joio Daniel de, 130

Catholic Church, 33, 139; abroad, 2, 132; accused
of subversion, 40-43, 58, 69, 101, 147, 223;
activism of, 90, 124, 223; attacks on, 2, 3,
86-87; beneﬁts of Bipartite Commission to, 5,
9-10, 224; and Bipartite Commission, 3;
Celebragﬁes Litzirgicas of, 139-40; and censor-
ship, 139—4o,'180-84; changes in, 35-37, 51;
collaboration of, with regime, 40, 222-23;
Communist/Marxist inﬁltration of, 51, 109,
119-21, 126; compared to military, 13-14, 51,
133-34; conservatives vs. progressives in,
11-12, 66, 77; dialogues of, with governments,
6-9; divisiveness in, 71, 90, 115-16, 125-26;
and Dom Eugenio, 66, 77; and ecclesiastical
honor, 159-61; factionalism in, 8,10, 225-26,
229-31; and human rights abuses, 10-11,
76-78, 139, 164-65; human rights campaign
of, 166-72, 211, 216, 228; inﬂuence of, 1-2, 5,
8-10, 216; intelligence gathered on, 40-43,
109-12, 222-24; lack of control by, over cler-
gy, 126; and Leme murder, 200-201, 207, 215;
looking for deﬁnition of subversion, 4, 114;
media of, 159, 180-84; military’s views of,
18-20, 100, 118-19, 231; Muricy’s relations
with, 48-51; networking with opposition
groups, 203, 216; opposition of, to
Communism, 2, 15, 28, 51, 150-51, 221; in
opposition to regime, 1, 43-46, 139, 228;
patriotism of, 77, 117; privileged role of, 1, 96,
155, 234; public vs. private positions by, 5-9,
76-78, 226; radicals in, 1, 9, 58, 122; relations
of, with elite, 15-17; relations of, with mili-
tary, 13-14, 16, 22-47, 48, 100; relations of,
with state, 13, 219-20; repression of, 1-2, 41,
44, 102, 179, 221; role of, in national identity,

138-39, 221; role of CNBB in, 35; and sesqui-
centennial celebration, 136; sesquicentennial
document by, 139-41; sesquicentennial mass
by, 138-39, 144; social doctrine of, 4-5, 57, 86,
97, 119, 149; teachings of 48-50, 157-58; third
way of, 15, 29, 37, 115, 120, 223; as transna-
tional institution, 7, 9, 23; unity in, 86, 102;
view of own role, 155-58, 223, 232; as voice of
the voiceless, 38, 181-84, 216, 225. See also
bishops; Church-state relations; Grupo
Religioso; Paul VI, Pope; Vatican II

catholicism: differing concepts of, 41-42, 133. See
also Catholic Church, teachings of

Catholic University Youth (JUC), 36, 38, 91

Catholic Youth Workers (JOC), 36, 88, 225; attack
on, 2, 73, 85-88, 189-90; Communist inﬁltra-
tion of 40; Dom Eugénio’s reorganization of,
128-29; international branch of, accused of
subversion, 69-70; repression of, 38, 181

CEBs. See Basic Ecclesial Communities

CELAM. See Council of Latin American Bishops

Celebragﬁes Litzirgicas, 139-40, 144

CENIMAR (Navy Information Center), 30, 139

censorship, 86; Alceu’s protest of, 73-74; of bish-
ops, 161, 167, 174, 181-82, 211; Church
response to, 11, 180-81; effects of, 11, 228; end
of, 12, 184, 220; as incomplete, 107; negotiat-
ed by Bipartite Commission, 181-84, 224;
relaxation of, 219; vs. “avoiding misunder-
standings,” 142

Center for Brazilian Studies, at Colégio Pio
Brasileiro, 154

Center-West bishops, publication of radical docu-
ments by, 145

Centro de Pesquisa e Documentacao de Histéria
Contemporﬁnea do Brasil (CPDOC), 17

Centro Dom Vital, 49, 73, 92

Centro Informativo e N50 Violéncia, 167

Cerveira, Joaquim Pires, 175, 177

Chagas Freitas, Antonio de Padua, 89, 98, 171

Chile: Church-state relations in, 8, 234; success of
revolutionary tactics in, 121-22

Christian liberation, Leme’s belief in, 204

“Church and the Sesquicentenary of Brazil’s
Independence, The,” 139

Church-military relations, 22, 232; deterioration
of, 221; lack of understanding in, 46, 222; and
loss of respect for Church, 88; and social jus-
tice vs. subversion, 233

“Church Social Doctrine and Brazilian
Government Policy” (Golbery), 124-25

Index

Church-state relations, 2-3, 13, 18-20, 150,
219-20; agreement in, 144, 156; attempts to
improve, 82, 157, 172; bishops’ views on, 5-6,
77-78, 141-42; Candido Mendes’s hopes for,
102-03, 115-18; causes of conﬂicts in, 124-26,
232; collaboration in, 114-18, 141-42, 154, 157;
conﬂict resolution by Bipartite Commission,
97-103; desires to improve, 5, 96, 141-42;
effects of Bipartite Commission on, 83,
221-25; effects of JOC and IBRADES raid on,
85-88; effects of Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice
Commission on, 174; fear of rupture between,
88, 90, 144; under Figueiredo, 221; during
First Republic, 24-25; under Geisel, 219-21;
and goals of Bipartite Commission, 4-5,
92-93, 108; increased dialogue in, 84-85; in
Latin America, 15; military’s views on, 69,
143, 231; reduced to politics vs. religion, 150;
role of bishops in, as intermediaries, 225; sep-
aration of, 115, 118, 122-24; sesquicentennial
conﬂicts in, 138-41; traditional, 77-78,
152-55, 233-34; worsening of, 66-68

CIE. See Army Information Center

Cintra, Dom Sebastiao Leme da Silveira, 24-25,
26

CISA (Air Force Information and Security
Center), 30,41

civilian, as president, 92, 219

civil liberties, 124; eliminated, 31, 107, 148;
restored, 219

civil society, strengthened by Church, 1-2

civil war, small-scale, 31-32

CJP-BR. See Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice
Commission-Brazilian Section

CJP-SP. See Peace and Justice Commission of the
Archdiosese of S50 Paulo

class, social, 218, 228-29, 233

class struggle, 76, 119-20, 173

clergy: accused of subversion, 109-11, 126-32; aid-
ing fugitives, 41, 44, 73, 130-31; Church
defending, 70, 175; and Church’s social doc-
trine, 119, 126; on Church-state collaboration,
44, 107, 136; confusion of, after Vatican II,
36-37; and Dom Eugénio, 167-68; military’s
view of, 84, 107, 231; opposition of, to regime,
42, 44, 221; planning masses for Leme by ,
208; regime strategies against, 43; repression
of, 39-41, 188-90; in resistance movement,
44-45, 130-31; subversion by, 69,101, 119,
167-68; torture of, 39, 147, 179; in Tripartite
Encounters, 84; working for posseiros, 129,

299

Index

(clergy: accused of subversion continued)
146-48, 163; working for the poor, 59, 221. See
also Catholic Church

clientelism, in Brazilian politics, 15-16

CN BB. See National Conference of the Bishops of
Brazil

Coelho, Dom Carlos, 58

Coelho, Germano de Vasconcellos, 58

cold war, 6, 28-29, 222

Colégio Pio Brasileiro, Pontificio, 85, 153-55

Collier Filho, Eduardo, 177, 179

Communio et Progessio (Pope Paul VI), 181

Communism: Army inﬁltrated by, 55; Church
accused of, 40, 48, 58-59, 146, 221, 225-26;
Church and Army united against, 25, 27, 109,
221; Church opposition to, 2, 15, 28, 51; and
Church’s third way proposal, 15, 115, 120, 223;
and clergy, 42-43; coup against Goulart to
protect against, 28, 37; Dom Fernando’s rejec-
tion of, 148-51; and failed revolt in 1935,
52-53; and fear of student movement revival,
212; inﬁltration of Church by, 51, 109, 119-21,
126; intelligence gathered by DOPS on, 40;
military trying to save Brazil from, 14, 29, 84;
Muricy’s avoidance of, 52-53; and relations
with China vs. Taiwan, 155. See also
anti-Communism; subversion

Communist-Hunting Command, 204

Communist revolutionary warfare. See revolution-
ary warfare

compensation, for families of victims, 198, 229

Congress: closed by AI-5, 31; divorce legislation
in, 157-58; murder of Leme criticized in, 211;
voting in Castello Branco, 29

consciousness-raising: by Church, 36, 43, 68, 147,
149; by regime, 43

conservatives: in Church, 11-12, 147, 167; in
CNBB, 145, 173, 184; criticism of Medellin
paper by, 115-16, 125-26; and factionalism
within Church, 37, 229-31; law school stu-
dents as, 209; opposition of, to Goulart, 29

Constitution of 1967, 29

contraband, Army traﬁicking in, 188, 190, 196

Cordeiro de Farias, Oswaldo, 220

coroners, falsifying death certiﬁcates, 191, 213

Corréa, Antonio Jorge, 136, 138

corruption, 54, 85, 228

Corsetti, Hygino Caetano, 183

Costa, Canrobert Pereira da, 53-54

Costa, Dom Antonio de Macedo, 24

Costa, Octavio, 32-33, 33, 84, 159

300

Costa e Silva, Artur da, 65; Muricy’s ties to, 64;
presidency of, 31, 57; protests of repression
to, 67-68, 145; relations of, with Church, 3,
156; stroke of, 31, 64; vs. Castellistas, 30

Costa e Silva, Iolanda, 70

Costistas, vs. Castellistas, 30

Council of Latin American Bishops (CELAM), 35;
Medellin statement on social justice by, 36,
114-16, 119-21, 125-26

coups. See revolutions

court-martial, of Barra Mansa S2 torturers,
196-98

Crimmins, John, 220

Cruz, José Augusto, 196-97

Cuba, 29, 155

Cuban Revolution, 29, 36, 58

Dantas Barreto, 94; at Bipartite Commission
meetings, 93, 122; on separation of Church
and state, 115, 118, 122

deaths. See murders

decompression (descompress§o): Candido
Mendes advocating, 91-92; in Church-state
relations, 13, 93, 127, 224-25; as forerunner to
liberalization, 13

democracy: Church advocacy of, 133, 228; effects
of anti-Communist obsession on, 29, 64, 74,
123, 133; effects of torture on, 77; military fac-
tionalism over, 14, 30, 53; struggle for, 217. See
also redemocratization

demonstrations: against Goulart government, 29;
interrupting Independence Day celebrations,
136; by Jocistas, 86; protesting against Leme
killing, 200, 215; by students, 31, 145, 215

Denys, Odylio, 55

DEOPS-SP. See State Department of Political and
Social Order

Department of Political and Social Order (DOPS),
40, 86, 108, 130

Department of Political and Social Order in
Guanabara state (DOPS-GB), 18-19, 40-43

dependency theory, 116, 126

desaparecidos (disappeared ones): bishops
demanding accounting for, 164, 168, 172; fam-
ilies coming to CNBB, 102; numbers of, 32

descompresscio. See decompression

Destacamento Tiradentes detachment, 56, 57

Detachment for Information Operations and
Internal Defense Operations Center
(DOI-CODI), 30; assassinations by, 172;
cover-up of murders by, 202, 206; intelli-

gence gathered by, 40-41; interrogations by,
18-19, 86-87, 204-05; murders by torture by,
175, 206, 214; torture by, 18-19, 39, 41, 87, 131,
206, 211

detentions, 130, 147-48. See also arrests

development, socioeconomic, 91, 101, 160;
Church-state collaboration on, 4, 114-18,
222-23; Church-state competition over, 93,
124; Church vs. military views on, 44, 133,
224; nationalist, 58, 60, 91, 117; varying
schools of thought on, 28-29

Dewey, John, 54

dialogue: before Bipartite Commission, 84, 87-88;
between military and Church, 2, 220, 222,
226, 231-32; between popes and govern-
ments, 7; role of, in political conﬂicts, 6-7.
See also Bipartite Commission

Dias, José Carlos, 213

Dias Leite, Antonio, 171

dictators, Church’s relationships with, 7-9

Diogo, Arlete, 205-06

“dirty wars,” against subversives, 8, 32

distensao. See decompression; liberalization

divorce, Church stance on, 157-58

Doctrine of National Security (DNS), 24, 28; for-
mulation of, 28, 53-54. See also
anti-Communism; national security

documentation, of torture, 17-20, 32, 80

DOI-CODI. See Detachment for Information
Operations and Internal Defense Operations
Center

Dom Agnelo. See Rossi, Dom Agnelo

Dom Aloisio. See Lorscheider, Dom Aloisio

Dom Avelar. See Vilela, Dom Avelar Brandao

Dom Carlos. See Coelho, Dom Carlos

Dom Eugénio. See Sales, Dom Eugénio de Araﬁjo

Dom Fernando. See Santos, Dom Fernando
Gomes dos

Dom Grémillion. See Grémillion, Dom Joseph

Dom Hélder. See Camara, Dom Hélder

Dominican friars: collaborating with Carlos
Marighella, 71; torture and imprisonment of,
39, 130"32

Dom Ivo. See Lorscheiter, Dom Ivo

Dom Jaime. See Camara, Dom Jaime de Barros

Dom José. See Campos, Dom José Melhado

Dom Leme. See Cintra, Dom Sebastiao Leme da
Silveira

Dom Lucas. See Neves, Dom Lucas Moreira

Dom Luciano. See Duarte, Dom Luciano José
Cabral

Index

Dom Mozzoni. See Mozzoni, Dom Umberto

Dom Newton. See Pereira, Dom José Newton de
Almeida Baptista

Dom Paulo. See Arns, Dom Paulo Evaristo

Dom Pedro. See Casaldéliga, Dom Pedro

Dom Vicente. See Scherer, Dom Vicente

Dom Vital. See Oliveira, Dom Vital Maria,
Gongalves de

DOPS. See Department of Political and Social
Order .

drugs: blamed for radicalism of students, 79; sol-
diers accused of trafﬁcking in, 190-91, 198;
use of torture to combat, 196-97

Duarte, Dom Luciano José Cabral, 143; as inform-
ant for military, 111-12, 141-42

Dutra, Eurico Gaspar, 25, 53-54

ecclesiastical honor, 39, 159-61

economic inequalities: Church protesting, 1, 101;
CNBB denouncing state for, 65; emphasized
by Communists, 120; in military’s model of
economy, 46

economic nationalism. See nationalism, economic

economy: Castello Branco’s objectives for, 33, 35;
criticism of regime’s policies on, 121, 143;
growth in, 1, 35, 231; interdependence with
national security, 28. See also development,
socioeconomic

education: and literary programs, 57-59; and
radio schools, 59; state cutting money to
Church for, 153-55

Elbrick, Burke, 32, 136

elections: Castello Branco not allowing military
in, 60; limited participation in, 107; made
indirect, 29

elite, 126; Bipartite Commission members as,
16-17, 101; Catholic, 88, 153; Church relations
with, 15-16; conciliation within, 15, 97, 100,
233; and Dom Hélder, 60

ESG. See National War College

Estado Novoz Church-state relationship in, 7;
organizations under, 25; support for, 53, 73;
use of torture under, 166

Europe: and Brazil’s Church-state relations, 221;
Brazil’s image in, 11, 70, 76, 79; demonstra-
tions by Jocistas in, 86; progressive Catholic
philosophy in, 73

exiles: amnesty for, 12, 215, 219; Brizola and
Goulart as, 55; Dom Eugénio helping
refugees, 168-69; and founding Popular
Liberation Movement, 175; Meneses as, 60

301

Index

Falcao, Armando, 158, 220

families: of Barra Mansa murders, 191-92,
198-99; of desaparecidos, 177, 179-80; gov-
ernment compensation to, 216, 229; Leme’s,
202-03, 206, 212-14, 216; of prisoners,
171-72; state censorship to support, 182; of
victims, 175, 191

Federal Police, 18, 128,181

Fico, Carlos, 28, 136

Fiel Filho, Manoel, 219

Figueiredo, Joio Baptista de Oliveira, 41, 95, 161;
and Bipartite Commission, 94-95; liberaliza-
tion under, 13, 219

First Armored Infantry Battalion (1st AIB): bar-
racks of, 189; torture by intelligence officers
of, 186-99

First Army, 41, 86-87, 168

First Brazilian Peace and Justice Seminar, 170

First Republic, Church-state relations during,
24'25, 139

Fleury, Sérgio Paranhos, 179; in assassination of
Marighella, 131; and Leme, 202, 206; torture
by, 39

Fontoura, Carlos Alberto, 95; and Bipartite
Commission, 94, 96, 109; and subversive
priests, 128

Fourth Latin American Justice and Peace
Conference, 170-71

Fragoso, Heleno, 87, 171

Franco, Francisco, 7

Fraternity campaign, public service spots for, 159

Frei Orlando, 25

Freire, Paulo, 57-58

Freitas Filho, Celso Gomes de, 196-97

Frei Tito de Alencar Lima, 131-32, 216

Frota, Sylvio, 159, 196

fugitives, aided by clergy and bishops, 41, 44, 73,
130-31, 167-70

“Fundamental Principles of Development in the
Medellin Document” (Candido Mendes), 116

Garcia, José Horacio da Cunha, 39

Geisel, Ernesto, 215; abertura under, 10, 30; diplo-
matic ties with China under, 155; and ecu-
menical temple in Brasilia, 158-59; ending
Bipartite Commission, 2-3, 100, 219-20; lib-
eralization under, 13, 92, 172,185, 200, 204;
presidency of, 156-57, 219; relations with
Church, 41,130, 156, 165, 219-20, 220-21;
repression more selective under, 217; and tor-
ture, 60, 172

302

Geisel, Orlando, 64, 96, 161, 169, 220

generals, 100; admitting fault in Barra Mansa
murders, 195; beneﬁts of Bipartite
Commission to, 224, 227; in Bipartite
Commission, 223; emphasis of, on national
security, 133-34, 224; relations of, with bish-
ops, 68, 77, 126; response of, toworld protest,
70, 86; in U.S. Army Command Hall of Fame,
220; view of own role in Brazil, 232-33. See
also armed forces; Army; Grupo da Situagao

Golbery. See Silva, Golbery do Couto e

golpe (1964). See Goulart, overthrow of; revolu-
tions

golpista, Muricy called, 54-55

Gomes, Henrique de Souza, 72

Gordon, Lincoln, 55

Goulart, Joao, 25; Church’s response to overthrow
of, 2, 37-38; opposition to, 29, 55-56; over-
throw of, 28-29, 37-38, 56, 57,149-50

grassroots organizations: Church relations with,
45, 120, 162; regime’s response to, 2, 179

Gregory, Father Afonso, 66

Grémillion, Dom Joseph, 171, 174-75

grileiros (claim jumpers), 147

Grupo da Situagao, 93, 112, 158, 171; ambiguous
role of, in regime, 96, 113, 222; and Bipartite
Commission meetings, 97, 123, 160; on
Church-state relations, 118, 123, 184; denying
slights to Dom Avelar, 160-61; discussing
radical documents, 123-26, 139, 145, 174; dis-
satisfactions of, with Bipartite Commission,
99; and Father Francois Jentel, 129-30; and
intelligence from Bipartite meetings, 109-12;
and intelligence on bishops, 104, 162; make-
up of, 104-06; pressured on human rights
cases, 175, 179, 213-15; and secrecy of
Bipartite Commission, 107-08; on sesquicen-
tennial celebration, 140, 142-44; using infor-
mal contacts, 107, 174; and victories from
Bipartite Commission, 141-42, 144, 152, 174;
warning bishops of subversive clergy, 126, 147

“grupo dos loucos” (opposition intellectuals),
45-46

Grupo Leigo. See Grupo da Situacao

Grupo N50-Violéncia, 166-67

Grupo Religioso, 93, 132, 155; blocked by Grupo
da Situagao, 109, 160; defense of human
rights by, 226-29; and Father Francois Jentel,
129-30; focus of, on human rights abuses,
164, 179-80, 185; goals of, in Bipartite meet-
ings, 99; increasing inﬂuence of, 113; informal

contacts of, with military, 101; and Leme
killing, 200-201, 213-14; makeup of, 101-04;
protesting censorship, 181; response of, to
Dom Fernando’s attack on regime, 149; and
sesquicentennial celebration, 140; wanting
collaboration with state, 157, 220

Guatemala, repression in, 32

Guedes, Sideni, 196-97

guerrillas, 208; Elbrick kidnapping by, 136; hop-
ing to inspire uprising, 31-32; military
response to, 110, 130, 147; students joining,
207; urban, 32, 202-03, 219; Vatican criticiz-
ing, 71. See also resistance

Guimaraes, Father Francisco Rocha, 42

hard-liners: criticism of Church, 84, 93, 97, 123;
discredited by bishops’ accusations, 227;
Geisel’s crackdown on, 220-21; and Grupo da
Situacao, 107, 123; in military factionalism,
30-31, 94, 231; opposition of, to redemocrati-
zation, 30; strength of, 164; threatening disso-
lution of Bipartite Commission, 185

health clinics: distributing birth control devices,
156; set up to soften military presence, 147

Henriquez, Cardinal Raul Silva, 8

Herzog, Vladimir: cover-up of murder of, 199,
202; effects of murder of, 200, 219; memorial
service for, 217; protests at death, 232

Holocaust, Church response to, 7

homosexuality, clergy accused of, 43

Humanae Vitae (Paul VI), 156

human rights: under Castello Branco, 3; Church
pressuring regime about, 224; Church’s com-
mitment to, 8-9, 36, 201, 206-07, 211, 216;
Church’s public vs. private positions on, 6,
226; constraints on, 228; differing tactics in
defense of, 71-74; Dom Eugénio’s contribu-
tion to, 78; effects of Bipartite Commission
on, 10-11, 226-29; groups working to defend,
166-72; inﬂuence of class on, 218; right’s feel-
ing excluded from, 217-18. See also civil liber-
ties

human rights abuses: Bipartite Commission dis-
cussing, 99, 164, 175-80; and Candido
Mendes, 91, 185; Church protesting, 1, 8,
10-11, 65, 70; Dom Hélder’s tactics against,
71-72, 76-78, 167; investigations into, 105,
160; under Médici, 6, 10, 12-17; and secrecy
of Bipartite Commission, 107-08; vs. repres-
sion of revolutionary warfare, 104. See also
murders; repression; torture

Index

Huntington, Samuel, 92
Hypolito, Dom Adriano, 221

IBRADES. See Brazilian Development Institute

Igreja Catolica Brasileira (Brazilian Catholic
Church-schismatic), 158

“I Heard the Cry of My People” (northeast bish-
ops), 160, 174, 181

independence, Brazil’s, 139

Independence Day, 137; sesquicentennial celebra-
tion of. 5, 135-44

inﬂation, reduced under Castello Branco, 35

infrastructure, investment in, 35

Institutional Act No. 5 (AI-5): bishops’ responses
to, 68, 85, 151; events leading up to, 31, 136;
justiﬁcation of, 68-69; opposition to, 64-65,
68; revoked by Geisel, 219

Integralismo, 53, 73, 88-89

intellectuals, 73, 90; in the Army, 51-52, 54; oppo-
sition, 45-46; role of, 91, 170

intelligence: about Church, 18-19, 40-43, 109-12,
222-24; Church’s network to gather and pass,
44-45; Church thwarting military gathering
of, 44; gathered by DOPS, 40; on human
rights abuses, 166-67, 171; on opposition,
29-30, 32, 211-12; use of torture to gather, 32,
41, 205

intelligence agencies, 40-41; CNBB’s need for
greater communication with, 127-28; defense
of repression, 164; verifying human rights
abuses, 105. See also speciﬁc agencies

interrogations: by DOI-CODI, 18-19, 86-87,
204-05; physicians and psychologists
involved in, 205. See also torture

investment, foreign, 35

Irmandade da Santa Cruz dos Militares, 25

ISEB. See Advanced Institute -for Brazilian Studies

Jaguaribe, Hélio, 170

Jentel, Father Francois, 129-30, 178
Jesuits, expulsion of, 24

Jobim, José, 72,84, 153-54

JOC/Jocistas. See Catholic Youth Workers
John Paul II, Pope, 7-9

John XXIII, Pope, 36

Jordao, Fernando, 217

Jordao, Rodrigo Octavio, 215

jornal do Brasil, 198

JUC. See Catholic University Youth

Juliao, Francisco, 57

junta. See military regime, Brazil’s; revolutions

303

Index

Kennedy, Robert, 91

Kissinger, Henry, 31

Kubitschek, Juscelino, 25, 27; opposition to, 29,
54

labor movement: Church support for, 38, 173;
repression of, 35; resistance networking with,
45; as targets of Communists, 120

Lacerda, Virginia Cortes de, 49

laity: asserting importance of, 76; Vatican II
asserting importance of, 36

Lamarca, Carlos, 43, 175

land: conﬂicts over, 146, 163; and Peasant
Leagues, 57

land reform. See reforms

Larrain, Dom Manuel, 36, 116

Latin America, 15, 116, 120; authoritarianism in,
117, 165; Church-state relations in, 4, 8,
233-34; cooperating against subversion,
168-70; Council of Latin American Bishops’
goals for, 35-36; Dom Eugénio aiding politi-
cal reﬁ1gees from, 168-70; importance in cold
war, 29; Medellin paper in, 125-26; and
Vatican II goals, 115

Laufer, Father Frederico, 154

lawyers, for families of prisoners, 171

lay activists, 1, 107; bishops defending, 175, 1130;
CNBB support for, 173

Lee, Leone da Silveira, 159; and Bipartite
Commission, 105, 108, 110; and censorship,
181, 183; on Leme death, 213; relations with
bishops, 147-48, 149

left: accused of ignoring human rights of right,
217-18; Barra Mansa murders ignored by,
199, 228; Catholic, 36,48, 69, 102,160;
Church’s relation to, 71, 201; exploiting
sesquicentennial celebrations, 139; and prop-
aganda campaign, 32-33; radical, 31, 64, 102;
and students, 78-79, 212

Leitao de Abreu, I050, 92, 95, 225

Leite, Eraldo Gueiros, 160-61

Leme, Alexandre Vannucchi, 175-76, 201;
cover-up of death of, 201-02, 206, 212-15;
effects of Bipartite Commission on case of, 11,
217, 227; effects of death of, 201, 206; memo-
rial mass for, 208-09, 211-12, 216-17; political
activities of, 201-04, 211, 214; pressure on
regime to resolve, 212-15; protests at death,
200-201, 207-08, 216-17, 231-32; torture of,
205-06, 214-15. See also Leme family

Leme, Egle Maria Vannucchi, 202-03, 213

Leme, José de Oliveira, 202, 206

304

Leme family: allowed to take bones and re-bury,
216; compensation for, 216, 228; pressing for
resolution, 206, 212-14; searching for son,
202-03

liberal capitalism, coup to protect against, 37

liberalism, in 1930 revolution, 24

liberalization, 224; Geisel starting, 13,185, 219;
role of Church in, 2; support for, 3, 224-25.
See also abertura

liberation, of Latin America, 120

liberation theology: advocated by CELAM, 36,
115-16; associated with Communism, 120; in
Celebragﬁes Litzirgicas, 139-40; CNBB support
for, 173; of Popular Church, 1, 38

Lima, Alceu Amoroso, 45, 73-76, 75, 128; and
amnesty for political prisoners, 139; on
Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission, 170;
strategies against torture, 76-78, 228, 230

Lima, Fernando Cerqueira, 154

Lima, Frei Tito de Alencar, 131-32, 216

Lima, Sérvulo Mota, 212

Lopes, Father Francisco Leme, 124

Lorscheider, Dom Aloisio, 69, 140, 181; on
Bipartite Commission, 3, 93, 101-04,105;
cooperation of, with regime, 129, 153-54, 159;
detention of, 2, 85-86; detention’s effects on,
87-88, 92; dissatisfaction of, with Bipartite
Commission, 99; and ecumenical temple in
Brasilia, 158-59; increasing inﬂuence of, 113;
in leadership of CNBB, 112, 166; at Medellin
CELAM conference, 116

Lorscheiter, Dom Ivo, 225; on Bipartite
Commission, 3, 101—04,1o5, 108; challenging
military on human rights abuses, 10, 194, 214;
in CNBB leadership, 112, 128, 166; coopera-
tion with regime, 153-54, 157; criticizing
regime at Bipartite meetings, 101; on human
rights abuses, 147-48, 214; increasing inﬂu-
ence of, 101, 113; military opinion of, 111, 143;
protecting Catholic monopoly, 158-59;
protesting censorship, 181-82, 184; protesting
repression of Church, 41, 181-82; and sesqui-
centennial celebration, 138, 140; smear cam-
paign against, 43

LSN (National Security Law), 30, 129

Lyra Tavares, Aurélio de, 64

Maciel, Lysaneas, 211

Magalhaes, Antonio Carlos, 68

Magnotti, Edsel, 204, 206

Marcos, Ferdinand, 7

“Marginalization of the People” (CNBB), 145

Marighella, Carlos: assassination of, 39, 130;
Dominicans collaborating with, 71, 130-32;
wanting to network with Church, 203

Markun, Paulo, 200

Marques, Roberval Pizarro, 98, 104, 106, 109, 110

Marxism, 125-26, 128. See also anti-Communism;
Communism

Mascelani, Maria Nilde, 177

Masons, 24, 149

MEB (Basic Education Movement), 36, 59

Medellin, CELAM assembly at, 114-16

Medellin statement, on social justice (CELAM),
36, 114-16; bishops’ attachment to, 133;
Grupo da Situacﬁo rebutting, 123-26; Paula
Couto’s concerns about Marxism in, 119-21

media: state investment in, 180. See also censor-
ship; press

Médici, Emilio Garrastazu, 95; ambiguous role of
Muricy and Grupo da Situagao with, 96-97,
113, 222; and Bipartite Commission, 2, 224;
censorship under, 180, 183; Church-military
relations under, 86-87, 123, 144, 231-32; con-
cern of, with public image, 14, 86-87; and
Dom Eugénio, 81, 81-82, 168; economy under,
34, 35, 101, 231-32; and Grupo da Situacao,
93-94, 96-97, 113; and Leme case, 207-08,
211-12; military under, 12-17, 127; opposition
to, 72, 201; presidency of, 31, 64; propaganda
under, 33; relation of Bipartite Commission
to, 94, 222; relations of, with Church, 41,

124, 127-28, 153-54, 156; relations of, with
Muricy, 96-97, 113; repression under, 6,
12-13, 32; and sesquicentennial, 136, 138; sym-
pathy of, with hard-liners, 94, 123; torture
under, 10, 165, 168, 194, 207. See also military
regime, Brazil’s

Mello, Ednardo D’!/\vila, 219

Melo, Anatalia de Souza Alves de, 199

Memento dos vivos (Candido Mendes), 91

Mendes, Candido (great-grandfather of Candido),
9-4

Mendes, Candido. See Almeida, Candido Antonio
José Francisco de

Meneses, Father Paulo, 60, 81

Merquior, José Guilherme, 92

Metas e Bases para a Agao de Govemo (Médici
administration), 122

military chaplains, 25-26

Military Cofraternity of the Holy Cross, 25

military governments, Latin American, 117, 165;
cooperating against subversion, 168-70; need
of, to combat revolutionary warfare tactics,

Index

121-22; strategies of, to counteract progres-
sive Church, 38-43

military regime, Brazil’s: ambiguous role of
Grupo da Situacao in, 96, 113, 222; attempts
to overthrow, 31, 147; and Bipartite
Commission, 94, 222, 224; bishops realizing
lack of inﬂuence over, 87-88; Candido .
Mendes’s assessment of, 91; on combating
revolutionary warfare, 121-22; criticism of,
72-73, 101, 139, 217; denial of torture by, 10,
227; denunciation of torture of, 73, 76-78,
164; divisiveness in, 94, 97, 123; ﬁrst
(1889-1894), 24; foreign relations of, 43-44,
155; ideological justiﬁcations for, 3, 29;
increased dialogue of, with Church, 84-85;
and junta after stroke of President Costa e
Silva, 64; justiﬁcations of, for torture, 165-66,
168; money for Church, in moral concordat,
25, 153-55; need for Church to legitimize, 3, 5,
9; opposition to, 31, 73-74, 147; and political
elite in Brazil, 15-17; public image of, 14,
43-44, 70; regulation of economy by, 121;
relations of, with bishops, 66-68, 148-49,
151-52, 160-61; representatives of, on
Bipartite Commission, 3; resistance to, 44-45,
130-31, 145; support for, 89-90, 151-52, 217;
torture as policy of, 76-77, 165-66; use of
Bipartite Commission for intelligence,
106-12; using Independence Day as political
platform, 136; Vatican’s dissatisfaction with,
65, 70-71. See also armed forces; Church-state
relations; generals; Grupo da Situacﬁo

Ministry of Education, and spying on students,
211

missionaries, 80, 129-30

moderates: among bishops, 8, 159-59, 173; in the
military, 29

Monte, Father Nivaldo, 59

Moraes Régo, Augusto Sussekind, 196-97

moral concordatz in Bipartite Commission, 162;
Bipartite Commission as attempt to save,
152-61, 224; Candido Mendes’s new version
of, 223; Dom Hélder and Dom Jaime as
paragons of, 26; ecclesiastical honor in,
159-61; as elite conciliation, 16, 233; existence
of, denied by Dantas Barreto, 115; in First
Republic, 25; under Geisel, 156; as moral
opposition, 6; progressives ready to jettison,
37

Moreira Junior, Octavio Gongalves, 204

Motta, Dom Carlos Carmelo Vasconcelos, 144

Mozzoni, Dom Umberto, 73, 74; and Barra

305

Introduction

Bipartite demonstrated that, once again, the Church chose dialogue to protect its
secular interests and to promote its spiritual and moral values. These different pri-
orities were not always incompatible. The bishops aimed to preserve the Church’s
historic inﬂuence, but the theological innovation of Vatican II and the onslaught of
authoritarianism in Latin America also made human rights a vital institutional
interest. Moreover, the Church was striving to redeﬁne its purpose in Brazilian soci-
ety. Different aspects of its role could be defended in different ways.

The broader historical mosaic of Catholicism in Brazil reveals the ongoing pri-
macy of institutional concerns and the Church’s adaptability to the changing
sociopolitical climate. As civilian rule returned, the Church partially withdrew
from public politics as parties and other groups became the new voice of social jus-
tice. Catholic radicalism lost appeal because of the fall of Communism and criti-
cisms by Pope John Paul II. Growing competition from other religions began to
undermine the Church’s quasi-ofﬁcial status. These changes ledthe bishops to
focus on more traditional goals such as building their ﬂocks and reviving orthodox
spirituality.” Continuity with the past brought the Church’s international charac-
ter and long—term institutional religious interests into sharp relief. Seen in isola-
tion, the Bipartite made little sense. In historical perspective it was quite logical.

Inﬂuence Through Dialogue

An important circumstance of the Bipartite was the immense asymmetry of
power between the generals and the bishops. The military monopolized force,
severely curtailed freedoms, and tortured and killed its opponents. It used its
power to manipulate the bishops. The Church was nonviolent. Yet the bishops were
not helpless. The Brazilian Church was institutionally strong, with some 250 bish-
ops by the 1970s. They often disagreed among themselves, but the leadership of the
CNBB, one of the world’s ﬁrst and best-organized episcopal conferences, spoke out
conﬁdently on national issues as a single voice for the bishops. The Church also had
social prestige, international status, and the leadership of the pope, whom the mil-
itary respected. Within the Church the bishops, and especially the participants at
the Bipartite, held substantial power. Some sectors of the Church organized peace-
ful resistance to the regime.

The bishops astutely acknowledged their disadvantage. Trying to persuade the
military was better than ignoring it, however. Dialogue provided the bishops with
the possibility of moral and political leverage.“ The Bipartite enabled them to
attempt to inﬂuence the generals without public delegitimation of the regime,
which was one of the government’s worst fears. Refusing dialogue would have fur-

Index

(Mozzoni, Dom Umberto continued)
Mansa murders, 192-94; on Bipartite
Commission, 108; and sesquicentennial cele-
bration, 138, 140; torture reported to, 190;
value of informal contacts with, 143
murders, 60; covered up, 214; not intended by
torturers, 205-06; numbers of, 32; of soldiers
by ofﬁcers, 185; trying to cover-up deaths
from torture, 202, 206. See also assassina-
tions
Muricy, Antonio Carlos da Silva, 50, 61, 65, 121;
advocating for Bipartite Commission, 94-96,
220; archives of, 17-18, 19; on Bipartite
Commission, 17-18, 92, 185, 222; bishops’
criticism of regime to, 68, 149-50; career of,
53-57, 60, 63-64, 94; in Castellistas, 30, 231;
and censorship of bishops, 139, 182; character
of, 16, 51-52, 232; on Church-state relations,
69, 118; curbing human rights abuses, 60;
denying human rights abuses, 10, 179; on
diplomatic relations with China, 155; and
Dom Hélder, 48-50, 60-63; on effects of
Bipartite Commission, 106-07, 223, 224;
evolution of, 48-63; ﬁghting subversion,
57-61, 78, 121-22,169, 169-70; and human
rights abuses discussed at Bipartite
Commission, 1o5,149—50, 175-80, 194; inﬂu-
ence of, 94-96, 113; and intelligence from
Bipartite meetings, 109; justiﬁcation of
repression by, 68-69, 164; and Leme murder,
213-14; and Médici, 95-97, 113, 222; opposi-
tion of, to Communism, 51-53, 58; in over-
throw of Goulart, 55-56, 56, 59; proﬁling
political prisoners, 78-79; relations of, with
bishops, 2-3, 48, 65, 68-69, 161; relations
with Church, 10, 153-54,158, 221; relations
with hard-liners, 64, 92, 122-23; religious
beliefs of, 14, 48-51, 157-58; role in Bipartite
Commission, 96-97, 102, 122-23, 233; role in
Bipartite Commission meetings, 100, 115; and
sesquicentennial celebration, 140-41; and
subversion in Church, 128-29, 147; waning
inﬂuence of, 94, 113; working to improve
Brazil’s image, 78-82, 171, 221-22
Muricy, José Cﬁndido da Silva, 52
Muricy, José Candido de Andrade, 49
Muricy, Ondina Pires de Albuquerque da Silva,
49-50. 54
Muricy, Virginia Ramos da Silva, 50, 50, 54, 57,

60,169

306

National Conference of the Bishops of Brazil
(CNBB), 9, 35,174; and Bipartite Commis-
sion, 92—93,1oo, 108, 111-12, 225-26; and
bishops’ opposition to regime, 1, 5, 65; and
Brazilian Catholic Church, 158; censorship of,
139-41, 182; challenging human rights abus-
es, 194, 214; communication with security
services, 127-28; conservatives in, 112, 184;
cooperation of, with government, 82, 136,
159; emphasis of, on human rights, 166-67,
173-74; factions in, 38, 102, 112, 173; and
IBRADES/JOC assault, 85, 87; on Indepen-
dence Day celebrations, 136-38; inﬂuence of,
28, 220; intelligence gathered on, 41, 111-12;
leadership of, 91, 101, 145; Médici’s not want-
ing formal agreements with, 96; military try-
ing to inﬂuence politics of, 112, 184; negotiat-
ing with regime by, 129, 138-41; on popula-
tion control, 156-58; progressives in, 38, 102,
112; and sesquicentennial celebration, 136-38,
141, 144; and Vatican, 70, 220

National Council for the Rights of Man, 174, 193

National Democratic Union (UDN), 55

National Information Service (SNI): at Bipartite
Commission meetings, 104-06, 127, 140; and
Celebragies Litzirgicas, 139; and Center for
Brazilian Studies, 154; creation of, 29-30; and
intelligence on Church, 41, 109; proposal to
meet with clergy, 93-94

nationalism: in armed forces, 30, 121; clergy in
development of, 23; Communists using ideol-
ogy of, 119-20; and development, 28-29, 117;
economic, 35-36, 58, 114; of Muricy, 48

National Liberating Action (ALN): activism by
students in, 202; assassination of leader of,
39; crackdown on, 206; Dominicans’ involve-
ment with, 130-32; Leme’s ties to, 203-04,
212, 216

national security, 224; citizens’ responsibility to,
69; driving ﬁght against subversion, 133-34;
interdependence with economy, 28; need for
deﬁnition of, 129; and need to combat revolu-
tionary tactics, 121-22; relation to population
growth, 156-57; vs. social doctrine, 162. See
also anti-Communism; Communism; Doc-
trine of National Security (DNS); subversion

National Security Council, 93-94

National Security Law (LSN), 30, 129

National War College (ESG), 28-30, 66, 90;
Muricy at, 52, 54

Navy, on Bipartite Commission, 104

Navy Information Center (CENIMAR), 30, 139

Navy Minister, 220

neocapitalism, as socially responsible, 120

neo-Christendom, 24, 26, 35, 49

Netto, Antonio Delﬁm, 92

Neves, César, 44

Neves, Dom Lucas Moreira, 17, 214; in Bipartite
Commission, 102,105; collaboration of, with
regime, 142; military’s opinion of, 111, 143;
protest of censorship by, 181-84; response of,
to Dominican affair, 131-32; trying to locate
imprisoned clergy, 86-87

Niebus, Dalgio Miranda, 191, 196-99

Northeast region: radical politics in, 48, 57-61,
145; repression in, 59-60

Novaes, Dom Waldyr Calheiros de, 167; and Barra
Mansa murders, 10, 191-95, 227; home invad-
ed by soldiers, 38-39, 188; military investiga-
tion of, 42; reporting torture by 1st AIB, 190,
198; in resistance to regime, 44; and 1st AIB,
188-89

0 Clero e a Independéncia, 142

O Estado de Sac Paulo, 40, 87, 198; censorship of,
183; on sesquicentennial celebration, 138, 141

Oﬂice of the Army chief of staff, involved with
Bipartite Commission, 127

Oliveira, Clovis de, 61

Oliveira, Dom Vital Maria Gongalves de, 24, 136

Oliveira, Fernando Augusto de Santa Cruz, 177,
179

Oliveira, Ivan Etel de, 196-97

Oliveira, Manoel Henrique de, 202, 204, 206, 217

Oliveira, Wanderley de, 176, 186, 192, 195

Omar. See Carvalho, Omar Diogenes

Operation Condor, against subversion, 170

Opinido, 211

opposition: atrocities against, 227; awakening of,
200, 232; Bipartite Commission as voice of,
164-65; bishops’ role in, 1, 175; Church’s role
in, 1, 6, 43-46, 139, 228; criticism of torture,
166; effects of, 68-69; pressuring regime on
Leme murder, 207, 212, 215; regime’s strate-
gies against, 32-33, 43; repression of, 31, 60,
134, 221; role in abertura, 92; strength of,
68-69, 184; uniting, 216, 217. See also guerril-
las; resistance

Oratorio do Soldado (Soldier’s oratory), 159

0 Sao Paulo, 207; censorship of, 181-83; sesqui-
centennial issue of, 138, 142

Ostpolitik, 7-8

Index

Pacem in Terris (Pope John XXIII), 36
Pacifico. See Barbosa, Roberto Paciﬁco
Padilha, Raimundo, 53, 88-89
Padilha, Tarcisio Meirelles, 53, 89, 155; and
Bipartite Commission, 96-97, 109, 140; on
censorship, 142; character of, 16-17; on
Church’s social activism, 122-23; on
Church-state relations, 118, 213-14; Dom
Luciano as informant to, 111-12, 141-42; eval-
uation of Bipartite Commission by, 99,
223-24; on Leme case, 213-14; and Muricy,
92, 96-97; on need to combat revolutionary
warfare tactics, 122; role in Bipartite
Commission, 3, 88-90, 233
Padim, Dom Candido, 160
Paes, Walter Menezes, 180
Paiva, Rubens, 175, 176
papal documents: of Pope John XXIII, 36; of Pope
Paul VI, 118, 124,181
papal nuncios: Geisel preferring to deal with,
220. See also Baggio, Dom Sebastiano;
Mozzoni, Dom Umberto
Paraguay, 169-70
parliamentary government, executive limited
under, 55
Passarinho, Jarbas, 43, 210-11, 217
passports, as state control mechanism, 72-73
Pastoral Land Commission (CPT), 145
patriotism, 138,162, 228
Paula Couto, Adolpho Joao de: and Bipartite
Commission, 94-95, 130; Dom Vicente as
informant to, 111; on naiveté of Church,
119-21; on revolutionary warfare, 121, 173;
role in Bipartite Commission, 93, 123
Paul VI, Pope, 50, 181; and Brazil’s Church-state
relations, 69,108; and Brazil’s image, 71,
79-80; denouncing torture, 71, 86, 170; dia-
logues with governments by, 7; doctrines of,
124, 156; documents of 118, 124, 181; Dom
Hélder’s relation with, 72; and human rights,
74, 115; letter from Leme’s mother_t0, 213;
naming Dom Eugenio as archbishop and car-
dinal, 66; naming Dom Paulo cardinal, 208,
209; protesting repression of Church, 2; rela-
tions of, with Brazilian regime, 2, 5, 70-71.
See also Vatican; Vatican II
Paz, Carlos Eugénio Sarmento Coelho da, 203-04
PCB. See Brazilian Communist Party
Peace and Justice Commission of the Archdiosese
of S510 Paulo (CJP-SP), 171-72, 208, 213, 229
Peasant Leagues, 57-60

307

Index

peasants, 129, 147. See also poor, the

Pedro I, Dom (emperor), 24, 136, 138

Penido, Dom Geraldo Maria de Morais, 219

Penteado, Francisco, 204

Pentecostalism, Protestant, 43, 158

people, the: military regime's appeal to, 32-33;
military’s failure to engage, 42-43; need to
cooperate against Communism, 58

Pereda, Joao Batista, 177

Pereira, Benedito José, 179-80

Pereira, Dom José Newton de Almeida Baptista,
153"59

Pereira Neto, Father Henrique, 39

“Perspectives for Dialogue Between Church and
State” (Candido Mendes), 116

physicians, and torture, 196, 205, 215

Pinheiro, Father Ernanne, 44

Pinochet, Augusto, 8, 14

Pio, the. See Colégio Pio Brasileiro, Pontificio

Pires, General. See Albuquerque, Walter Pires de
Carvalho e

Pius IX, Pope, 180-81

Pius XI, Pope, 7, 25

police: archives of, 18; bishops keeping subversive
priests from, 128; brutality of, 165, 228; coop-
erating against subversion, 170; detentions
by, 130; in DOI-CODI, 41; First Armored
Infantry Battalion acting as, 188; and Leme
case, 202, 206-08; repression of USP stu-
dents by, 207-08; vs. guerrillas, 32. See also
federal police; security forces

Policia Federal, 18, 128, 181

political parties, replacement of, 29

political prisoners: amnesty for, 139, 215, 219;
bishops trying to locate, 86-87, 179; burial of,
202; CJP-BR helping, 171; defense of, 170-71;
Dom Eugenio helping, 78, 167-68;
Dominican friars as, 131-32; effects of
Bipartite Commission on, 226; Muricy help-
ing to free, 60, 180; Muricy proﬁling, 78-79;
regime’s denial of existence of, 10, 89-90;
released after Elbrick kidnapping, 32

political refugees, 44, 168-69

politics, Brazilian, 15-16, 233; Army ofﬁcers in,
23-24, 29; of public vs. private positions, 5-9,
11, 226; role of torture in, 165

Pontiﬁcal Council for the Laity, 72-73

Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission, 174; and
investigation into torture, 80-81; member-
ship of, 74-76, 91

Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission-Brazilian
Section (CJP-BR), 70, 74-76, 91, 166, 170-72

308

Pontificio Colégio Pio Brasileiro. See Colégio Pio
Brasileiro, Pontificio

poor, the: Church activism for, 1, 221; and class
and human rights abuses, 229; defense of, 57,
221; diversion of relief funds for, 59

Popular Church, 36; criticism of institutions,
225-26; emergence of, 1, 38, 73; opposition to,
12

Popular Culture Movement, 58

Popular Liberation Movement (MPL), 175-79

Populoram Progressio (Pope Paul VI), 118, 124

Portugal, 23

Portugal, Setubal, 62-63

Positivism, inﬂuence on military, 22, 24-25, 90

posseiros, Dom Pedro aiding, 129, 146-48, 163

poverty, 59, 122, 160

press, 71; Barra Mansa murders in, 195, 198;
Bipartite Commission in, 108; and Brazil’s
public image, 79, 129; helping in propaganda
campaign, 32; human rights issues in, 76; on
Leme murder, 206, 212-13; on Marighella
and subversive clergy, 130-31; not covering
Dom Paulo’s denunciations of violence, 217;
and public campaign against torture, 77. See
also censorship

Prestes, Luis Carlos, 78, 151

Pretto, Father Agostinho, 43-44, 85, 87

priests. See clergy

Prigol, Father Mario, 44

prisoners: student protest of abuse of, 229; as wit-
nesses to Leme’s torture, 214-15. See also
political prisoners

progressive Church, 146; in Europe, 73; investiga-
tion of, 41; regime counteracting, 43

progressives, 167; at Bipartite Commission, 231; in
Catholic Church, 8,11-12, 146, 203-04; in
CNBB, 3, 145, 184; and factionalism within
Church, 37, 229-31; opposition to
Communism among, 155

progressivism, Catholic, 48, 91,101, 115, 231

propaganda: aired on Radio 9 de Julho, 184; Alceu
exaggerating atrocities in response to, 228;
and military smear campaigns, 39-40, 43; by
regime, 14, 32-33, 101

Protestant Pentecostalism, 43, 158

Protestants: Catholics allying with against repres-
sion, 5, 45; Geisel as, 156-57, 219; in Grupo
N50-Violéncia, 167

protests. See demonstrations

psychologists: helping in propaganda campaign,
32; involved in interrogations, 205; proﬁling
political prisoners, 78-79

public relations: Leme problem for, 211-12. See
also Brazil, national image of
punishment, for torturers, 227-28

Quadros, Janio, 25, 29, 55
Quieroz, Ronaldo, 203-04

radicals, Catholic, 9, 122; arrests and torture of 2,
38

Radio 9 de Julho, shut down, 183-84

radio schools, 59

radio stations, shut down, 180, 183-84

Reale, Miguel, 212

Rebello, Father Pedro Belisario Velloso, 85

redemocratization: advocates of, 30, 45-46, 172;
1945 call for, 53. See also abertura; democracy;
liberalization

reforms: agrarian, 68, 145; Church strategy for,
28-29; to counteract Communism, 58, 121;
Goulart’s call for, 56; land, 35, 38; regime’s
failure to implement, 68-69, 149; social, 85,
121, 149

refugees, political, 44, 168-69

Reis Velso, I050 Paulo dos, 171

religion: Catholic Church as semi-ofﬁcial, 5, 158;
military support for competition to Catholic
Church, 43; relation to military, 51

Religious Question, 24,136, 149

Representative Commission (of CN BB), 140-42

repression: under Castello Branco, 29-30; of
Church, 38-42, 145; effects of Bipartite
Commission on, 224, 226-29; of guerrillas,
32, 39; increasing levels of, 3, 6, 173; intelli-
gence-gathering for, 29-30, 39-42; under
Médici, 32, 231; more selective under Geisel,
217; murder of Leme as symbol of, 207; of
opposition, 29-30; of students, 145, 208; of
subversion, 104, 223; of workers, 35. See also
censorship; human rights abuses; torture

Republic, installed after overthrow of Emperor
Dom Pedro II, 52

resistance: armed, 175-79, 224; by clergy, 42,
130-31, 221; nonviolent, 44-45. See also guer-
rillas; opposition

revolutionary warfare, 155; campaign for human
rights called, 173; enlisting students in, 78-79,
119; as Muricy’s specialty, 54, 58; regime’s
need to combat, 121-23; repression of, 104;
social reform to counter, 121; tactics of, 58,
119-20

revolutions: of 1889, 52; of 1922, 52; of 1930,
24-25, 52; of 1935, 52-53; and Church’s

Index

response to coup against Goulart, 2, 37-38; of
1964 (coup against Goulart), 28-29, 37-38,
56, 57, 60, 149-50; institutional, 27-28; liber-
al, 24

Ribeiro, Judge José Murta, 124

right, the: feeling excluded from human rights
focus, 217-18. See also conservatives

RioCentro bombing, 18

Rio de Janeiro, human rights movement in, 12,
166-67

Rio Grande do Sul, as center of Catholic progres-
sivism, 101

Rita, Joao Batista, 177

Roberval. See Marques, Roberval Pizarro

Romero, Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo, 8

Rosen,]1’1lio de, 87

Rossi, Dom Agnelo, 131, 138; relations of, with
military regime, 38, 67, 71, 154

Rossi, Waldemar, 177, 179

Roy, Maurice Cardinal, 174

rural areas, clergy defending poor in, 221

Rural Assistance Service (SAR), 59

rural unions, Catholic, 59

Russell, Bertrand, 160

Sales, Dom Eugenio de Araﬁjo, 67, 130, 230; as
anti—Communist, 59, 109; as archbishop,
66-68; and Bipartite Commission, 93, 97,
101-04; on Church-state relations, 225; on
church vs. military discipline, 133-34; defense
of Medellin paper by, 121; on effectiveness of
Bipartite Commission, 122, 223; efforts to
improve Brazil’s image, 78-82, 221-22;
human rights leadership of, 68, 125, 167-70;
at Medellin CELAM conference, 116; and
Médici, 81, 81-82; military’s respect for, 59,
103-04, 111; and Muricy, 59, 65, 68, 140; on
Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission, 170,
172; and public campaign against torture,
76-78; relations of, with military regime,
11-12, 66; reorganizing JOC and IBRADES,
128-29; and sesquicentennial celebration,
140; use of informal contacts by, 140, 143;
working on clergy-military relations, 128

Sampaio, Mario Orlando Ribeiro, 157, 158,197; on
Bipartite Commission, 105-06, 223, 227;
investigating torture, 14, 193-96

Santos, Antonio Vieira dos, 176, 179-80

Santos, Dom Fernando Gomes dos, 108, 144-52,
147, 151, 231; attack on regime, 148-49; mili-
tary’s opinion of, 111, 162

Santos, Theodomiro Romeiro dos, 178

309

Index

S50 Félix do Araguaia: Church-state relations in,
110-11; guerrillas vs. Army in, 147; repression
in, 148, 181

Sao Paulo: ALN in, 202; opposition in, 11, 208;
sesquicentennial celebration in, 138, 142, 144;
struggle for human rights in, 164

Sarmento, Sizeno, 87

Sartori, Dom Luiz Victor, 50-51, 58

Scherer, Dom Vicente, 55, 76; and Bipartite
Commission, 93, 101; disgruntled with CNBB,
173; as informant to General Paula Couto, 111;
response of, to Dominican affair, 131-32; vis-
iting imprisoned Jocistas, 87

Second Army, 208

Second Vatican Council. See Vatican II

secrecy, 6, 16, 196. See also Bipartite Commission,
secrecy of

security forces: archives of, 18, 20; damage to
regime by, 224, 231; denial of culpability in
Leme death by, 213; use of torture for intelli-
gence gathering by, 205. See also armed
forces; intelligence agencies

services, memorial: for Herzog, 217; for Leme,
162, 208-09, 211-12, 216-17

sesquicentennial celebration (1972), 135-44

sexual immorality, clergy accused of, 43

Sigaud, Dom Geraldo de Proenca, 128

Silva, Arioswaldo Tavares Gomes da, 192, 197-99

Silva, Benedito Pereira, 176

Silva, Dom Duarte Leopoldo e, 142

Silva, Geomar Ribeiro da, 176, 186, 187, 190-91

Silva, Geraldo Eulalio do Nascimento e, 124

Silva, Geralsélia Ribeiro da (sister of Geomar),
190‘92, 194, 198-99 V

Silva, Golbery do Couto e, 29-30, 53, 56, 96; as
adviser on distensﬁo, 219; Candido Mendes’s
relationship with, 91, 172; and Church-state
relations, 124-25, 220; support for Bipartite
Commission, 220, 225

Silva, Paulo Reynaud Miranda da, 196

Silva, Roberto Vicente da, 176, 186, 187, 191

Simas, Mario, 131-32, 213-16

Simeao, Cristina Schroeter, 177

Singer, Paul, 170

S2 (intelligence section of First Armored Infantry
Battalion): arresting and beating soldiers,
190-91; Barra Mansa murders by, 193-96, 195

Smith, Earl, 45

Soares, Dom José Lamartine, 59

Sobral Pinto, Heraclito, 78, 192

social activism: of Church, 15, 122, 221; Church
divided over, 90, 116; by clergy, 59, 128-29,

310

146-48, 163, 221; by CNBB, 101; dangers to
Church involvement in, 226; and revival of
student movement, 212; vs. subversion, 114.
‘See also social justice-

social democracy, military view of, 133

socialism, anti-imperialist, 36

social issues, Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice
Commission studying, 170

social justice: CELAM statement on, 114-16,
119-21, 125-26; Church emphasis on, 28,
41-42, 149, 160, 221; deﬁnition of, 21; in
development planning, 223; national security
outweighing, 133-34; vs. subversion, 114,
118-23,125—26, 133-34, 222, 233. See also
social activism

social reform. See reforms

social transformation: bishops calling for, 35; as
salvation, 38

sociologists, in propaganda campaign, 32

Somoza, Anastasio, 8

Sousa, Washington Luis Pereira de, 25, 26

Souto, Edson Luis de Lima: effects of death, 145,
212; protests of death of, 80, 215

Souza, Rubens Martins de, 196-97

Souza Mello, Humberto de, 139, 143, 208, 213

spiritist religions, 158

spying. See intelligence; intelligence agencies

state. See Church-state relations; military regime,
Brazil’s

State Department of Political and Social Order
(DEOPS-SP), 131; archives of, 18-19; and
Leme, 204-06

Stenzel, Clovis, 183

strikes: labor, 31; student, 217

Stroessner, Alfredo, 8, 14,169, 169-70

student movement, 91, 204, 212

students: activism by, 90-91, 202; bond of
Church to, 216; and Catholic radicals, 58-59;
demonstrations by, 31, 136, 145; and Leme
killing, 200-201, 207, 209, 212, 213, 215;
protest of, against de Lima Souto killing, 31,
80, 212, 215; protest of abuse of prisoners by,
229; repression of 145, 208; spying on, 211,
212; strike by, 217; subversive inﬂuences on,
78

subversion: bishops defending against accusa-
tions of, 225-26; Church accused of, 38-43,
146, 221; Church trying to avoid supporting,
5, 15; clergy accused of, 101, 109-11, 126-30,
223; at Colégio Pio Brasileiro, 153-54;
deﬁnition of, 21, 114; Latin American coun-
tries cooperating against, 169—70; military

focus on, 118-19, 221; Muricy’s defense of
repression against, 64, 69, 150; regime’s tac-
tics against, 32, 58, 180, 188; repressed after
coup, 60; students led into, 78-79; vs. social
justice, 4, 123, 125, 139-40, 222, 233. See also
Communism; opposition

suffrage, literacy requirements for, 107

Sulik, Tibor, 69-70

Superior Military Tribunal, 215

Supreme Court, 68

surveillance. See intelligence; intelligence agencies

Sussekind, Helmo de Azevedo, 189, 196-98

Tavares, Milton, 96
Tévora, Dom Jose, 57
Tavora, Juarez, 29
technocrats, in military regime, 35, 123
Teixeira, Gladstone Pernasetti, 188, 192,198
television, 159, 180, 211
tenentes, 24, 28, 52
terrorism: by hard-liners, 30-31; by leftists, 62;
Leme accused of, 202, 209, 211-12; by right
wing, 190; Vatican denouncing, 71
third way, of Church, 15, 29, 37,115,120, 223
Torres, José Garrido, 124
Torres, Sérgio Rubens de Araujo, 178
torture: within armed forces, 106, 186-99; bish-
ops wanting formal condemnation of, 141-42;
Church response to, 2, 38, 64-65, 139;
Church’s protests against, 39, 73-74, 139, 145,
147, 168; Church’s public vs. private denuncia-
tion of, 76-78; cover-ups of deaths from, 202,
206; debate in Church over how to stop, 71;
documentation of, 18-19, 80; of Dominican
friars, 130-32; effects of, on Brazil’s image, 11,
79-82, 130-31, 164, 227; effects on regime,
64-65; exposed by Church, 80, 165; history of
use of, 165-66; lack of protest against, 166;
lack of punishment for, 166, 198; murder not
intended through, 205-06; of noncombat-
ants, 147; of opposition, 29-30, 38, 60, 130,
227; as policy of regime, 32; politics around,
64-65; pope denouncing, 70-71, 170; public
campaign against, 76-78; regime’s denial of,
10, 70, 90, 205; reined in, 10, 60, 219; repres-
sion through, 60; S2 lacking professionalism
in, 195-96; soldiers’ resistance to, 44-45;
techniques of, 32, 186; used in interrogations,
41, 147, 164; victims telling bishops about, 87,
102
torturers: amnesty for, 219, 228; lack of punish-
ment for, 227-28

Index

Tradicao, Familia e Propriedade, 204
Transamazon Highway, 34, 35

Trevisan, Dom Alberto, 86

Tripartite Encounters, 84

Trujillo, Dom Alfonso Lopez, 111, 125-26

Uchoa, Father Virgilio Leite, 176

Umbanda, 43, 158

U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 36,
173—74.207

unemployment, under Médici, 35

UNE (National Union of Students), 90-91

unions. See labor movement

United States, 91; evaluation of Brazil’s condition
by, 31; fear of, of revolution in Brazil, 58; help-
ing block investigations of human rights
abuses, 174; policies criticized, 91, 120;
regime’s use of torture in press of, 77; support
for Brazilian armed forces, 28, 53, 165; ties of
Army to, 28-29

University of S50 Paulo (USP), 212; Leme at, 200,
202-03; repression of students, 208, 211; stu-
dent protests at, 207, 217

U.S. Army Command and General Staff College,
53, 220

Ustra, Carlos Alberto Brilhante, 205, 211

Uylenbroeck, Monsignor Marcel, 73

values, traditional, 48, 78-79

Vandré, Geraldo, 208

Vannucchi, Father Aldo, 202, 205

Vannuchi, José Ivo, 205

Vannuchi, Paulo de Tarso, 205

Vargas, Getulio, 24; and Brazilian Labor Party, 55;
Church-state relations under, 7, 25; death of,
29; struggle to maintain power, 52-55; use of
torture under, 166

Vatican, 132; and Brazil’s Church-state relations,
72, 221; displeasure of with Brazilian govern-
ment, 65, 183; inﬂuence of, on Church in
Brazil, 24-25; link of, with JOC international
branch, 69-70; protests of, against repres-
sion, 86; relations of, with Brazilian gov-
ernment, 5, 70-71, 220; response of, to
Dom Hélder’s activism, 72. See also Paul VI,
Pope

Vatican II, 36; effects of, 36-37, 42, 126, 153;
emphasis on human rights from, 10, 36-37,
74, 166; increased dialogue after, 7, 36, 84;
Medellin statement in implementation of,
115; Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission
formed after, 170

311

Index

Vilela, Dom Avelar Brandao, 57, 67, 155; on
Bipartite Commission, 93, 100, 102, 122; call
by, for dialogue with military, 88; on
Church-state commission, 84; on deﬁnition
of subversion, 114, 222; ecclesiastical honor
of, 159-61; on errors in Vatican II, 126; gov-
ernment humiliation of, 233; on Leme killing,
214; at Medellin CELAM conference, 116; and
priests’ subversion, 69; and sesquicentennial
celebration, 14o-41

Villot, Cardinal Jean, 73

violence, 217; against Church, 221; Church stance
on, 120-21, 167; failure to link clergy to, 131;
failure to link Leme to, 204, 207. See also
human rights abuses; murder; terrorism; tor-
ture V

Virote, Juarez Mongao, 176, 186, 187, 191-92, 195

312

voice of the voiceless: Church as, 38, 181-84, 216,
225; CNBB as, 1
voting, educating illiterates for, 57-58

wages, under Médici, 35
Washington Luis. See Sousa, Washington Luis
Pereira de -

workers. See labor movement

Workers’ Pastoral, 179-8o

World War II, 25, 53

Wright, Jaime, 172

Wright, Paulo Stuart, 172

youth groups, as targets of Communists, 120

Zioni, Dom Vicente Marchetti, 209


 
   
   
   
   
  
  
    
    
 
    
     
      
 

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9

   

Introduction

ther increased tensions and sharply reduced the possibilities of mutual under-
standing and protection of human rights.”

Dialogue further enabled the Church to deal more effectively with its opponent
by giving the bishops a deeper appreciation for the military’s internal politics and
an understanding of which factions were open to dialogue. The extremists on both
sides—zealous Catholic progressives and key ofﬁcers close to Médici—criticized
the Bipartite.” But the Church and the Army were not monoliths. Each had groups
that wanted to end the Church-state strife. General Muricy and Candido Mendes
formed the necessary bridge.

Human Rights

The third phase of the Bipartite dealt with abuses of human rights, which
became the most compelling reason for the bishops’ participation. Public postur-
ing followed by compromise might serve for some issues, but defense of human
rights was an important commitment of the post—Vatican 11 Church and, in the
Brazilian context, one on which it had to radicalize quickly. Torture was authori-
tarianism incarnate, and the regime practiced it widely. Human rights therefore
demanded a consistent and straightforward message. They became a central point
of contention.

At the Bipartite, the bishops reinforced their public outcry against abuses.
Under the leadership of Candido Mendes and Dom Ivo they pressed the officers to
explain the jailings, disappearances, and violations committed by the security
forces against a variety of victims, including peasants, clergymen, and members of
the left. General Muricy and his team usually sustained the government’s lies or
denials of wrongdoing. (Publicly the regime refused to admit the existence of polit-
ical prisoners and torture.) Thus there is little evidence that the Bipartite stopped
abuses in the short run. The Church’s public campaign also had little immediate
success. Under Médici the military allowed the security forces to investigate, cap-
ture, and torture victims without restriction. Only after President Geisel’s decision
to carry out a political liberalization—the so-called abertura——did the regime rein
in torturers.

Nevertheless, the Bipartite allowed the bishops to speak their minds freely on
human rights. They contested and even disproved military denial of abuses. The
bishops had no inﬂuence over torturers, but through the Bipartite they transmitted
a fOI'C€ﬁJl message to the torturers’ superiors. After Dom Waldyr Calheiros de
Novaes denounced the death and disappearance of soldiers at the Barra Mansa bar-
racks in January 1972, the Bipartite helped spur the military’s only public admission

10

Introduction

and prosecution of torture. The bishops’ efforts were especially crucial because
repression and censorship mufﬂed public forms of protest. A year later, when
protest by the public and attorneys against the death of popular Catholic universi-
ty student Alexandre Vannucchi Leme failed to provoke an inquiry, the Bipartite
once again became the ultimate forum for Church complaints to the military lead-
ership. The bishops cumulatively built a case against the repression. They criticized

r censorship of Catholic publications and media. Behind closed doors, the Bipartite

demonstrated a grudging necessity of the armed forces to discuss human rights. It
prompted the military’s tacit and explicit admission of abuses, helping the Church
to gain the moral high ground. Some areas were open to negotiation, but human
rights were not.

Publicity about torture soiled Brazil’s image of economic progress and set off a
diplomatic battle in Europe. The generals pressured the bishops at the Bipartite
and in other contexts to stanch the ﬂow of bad news about the regime. The diplo-
matic struggle generated a series of other private dialogues between military and
Catholic leaders. It also sparked debate within the Church over the effectiveness of
public versus private denunciation of atrocities. These dialogues played an impor-
tant part in the story of the commission.

This phase of the Bipartite shed light on the origins of the politics of human
rights in Brazil. The commission’s activities provided a measure of military toler-
ance of human rights violations and the Church’s use of them as a political lever.
The bishops chose their battles carefully and fought them wisely. The Bipartite
helped the Church build a commitment to human rights, which became a corner-
stone of the later campaign for democracy. It also reﬂected some of the difﬁculties
of the human rights movement in Brazil.

Progressives and Conservatives

The presence of bishops of different political stripes at the Bipartite destroys the
prevailing notion that only conservatives dialogued with the military. Likewise, the
Bipartite undermines the idea that only progressives defended human rights and
opponents of the regime. Much has been written about the archdiocese of Sao
Paulo, where Cardinal Paulo Evaristo Arns spearheaded the most important
Church opposition movement. He exercised the prophetic approach to human
rights and opposition. A more balanced view of the Brazilian Church, however,
should include a closer look at the goals and outcomes of the conservative wing,
which used more discreet tactics.

The most interesting case is Dom Eugenio de Araujo Sales, the archbishop pri-

11

Introduction

mate of Brazil (1968-1971), the cardinal of Rio de Janeiro as of 1971, and a key mem-
ber of the Bipartite. Dom Eugenio is usually remembered as a conservative with
close ties to the military and as an enemy of the Popular Church. In a landmark
work on the Brazilian Church, political scientist Thomas Bruneau states that Dom
Eugenio became “overly compromised” with the elite (Bruneau 1974b:173). Indeed,
no bishop had more respect from the martial leadership. In two important books
on the Church and politics, former congressman Mércio Moreira Alves describes
Dom Eugenio as an “authoritarian opportunist” and the “principal promoter of the
alliance between the Church and the military government.”19 Yet this interpretation
is incorrect. Dom Eugenio criticized human rights abuses, aided many political pris-
oners, and labored to protect the Church’s interests. He was able to play this role
and to bridge the gap between Church and state precisely because he had prestige
in the barracks. This trust further allowed him to point out the errors of the regime,
albeit usually behind the scenes. Dom Eugénio favored dialogue but not “alliance.”
His work requires a remapping of the Church’s human rights movement to include
Rio de Janeiro as an important center. It also suggests greater attention to personal
and historical factors that shaped the bishops’ politics. Most important, it points
out the interpretative limits of the categories “progressive” and “conservative.”

By joining the Bipartite, the progressives continued to work within the histori-
cal framework of Church-state cooperation. Although they opposed militarism,
favored a more just socioeconomic system, and in theory rejected ties to the elite,
they recognized the Church’s need for inﬂuence and power. Thus the Bipartite rein-
forces the interpretation that the Popular Church was less a proposal for liberating
the people than a way for guaranteeing the bishops’ authority in Brazilian society
(Romano 1979)?”

Rethinking the Military in the Médici Years

As some scholars have noted, if the armed forces “won the war against the left-
ist revolutionary organizations, they were defeated in the struggle over the histori-
cal memory of the period.” Discussion of the Médici era has remained taboo in the
armed forces because of the need to protect esprit de corps. Normally written by
the victors, history this time was forged by the vanquished.” With the gradual end
of censorship under Geisel and the 1979 political amnesty that brought home
exiles, a plethora of prose works and other media presented a version of events told
by eX—guerrillas and victims of the regime.” The publication of Brasil: nunca mais
was perhaps the most bitter pill for the armed forces. Issued as Brazil returned to

12

Introduction

civilian rule in 1985, this best—selling book documented the horrors of torture dur-
ing the Médici years, using military court ﬁles spirited off and copied by Church
lawyers.“ More recently some officers have provided their own accounts, but mili-
tary writings on the period remain few.“

The Bipartite is an important chapter in the historical narrative of the Médici
era, the bloodiest yet least studied of the military periods.” Long out of vogue in the
historical profession and largely absent from Latin American studies, interpretive
narrative helps deﬁne a particular period by portraying the convergence of indi-
viduals, incidents, and trends.26 Intangibles made a difference in this story. The
emotional climate of secret dialogue and the nuances of personal relations and
small social networks played a role in mediating the dictatorship that is frequently
overlooked. The Bipartite involves political and diplomatic history as well as the
stories of the security forces, the soldiery, and the victims of the repression and
their families. It is also about the military leadership and the nature of the Médici
government.

The Bipartite invites reevaluation of the regime. It revealed that the Médici gov-
ernment was more varied in its approach to the Church than was previously
thought. On the one hand, the Médici administration was truculent, with the hard-
line leadership encouraging repression of the Church’s new ideas and pastoral pro-
grams. On the other hand, as veteran journalist Carlos Castello Branco wrote,
Médici was always interested in a political dialogue (cited in Skidmore 19882105).
Médici allowed the anti-hard-liners to try persuasion. General Muricy represented
an intellectualized military subculture that respected the Church for political, reli-
gious, and patriotic reasons and wanted conciliation with it. His creation of the
Bipartite suggests that the “soft-line” followers of Castello Branco had more inﬂu-
ence on policy than they are given credit for.” Thus the Bipartite highlights an
important nuance in military attitudes and strategies. It provides a more subtle
View of the Médici years, emphasizes historical speciﬁcity, and cautions against
monolithic interpretations.” The Bipartite paralleled the earliest attempts at
descompressdo, or distenscio (decompression), the strategy of political liberalization
and lessening of tensions that was a forerunner to the abertura (political opening)
begun by Geisel and implemented under General Joﬁo Baptista de Oliveira
Figueiredo, the last military president (1979—1985).29 The Bipartite did not cause
Geisel’s distensao, but it did decompress Church-state tensions.

Another unexamined area of modern Brazilian politics is Church-military rela-
tions. Studies of the Church focus on its relationship to the state. Normally a part
of the state, after 1964 the military dominated it.3° But like the Church the armed

13

Introduction

services are a special kind of institution with their own peculiar hierarchy, methods
of recruitment and training, and history. These institutions have much in common,
not least of which is their goal to inﬂuence the populace. Comparison of the two
institutions helps explain post-1964 conﬂict. One example was disagreement over
patriotism. This was a particularly complex issue given the national composition of
the armed forces and the transnational makeup of the Church. Writings on Brazil,
however, rarely discuss the shared experiences of soldiers and priests, outside con-
ﬂict. General Muricy’s experiences and the Bipartite demonstrated close contact
between cross and sword.

In many works military leaders appear as distant, strident ﬁgures involved only
in repression. Early on, the generals purposefully cultivated a somber, austere, even
morbid image. They wished to strike a contrast with the populist presidents, seen
as corrupt, willing to rub elbows with the people for the smallest political advan-
tage. The generals’ attitude reinforced the climate of fear, creating a chasm between
the regime and the populace. Médici tried to soften this image by appearing as a
simple man who enjoyed soccer, the national craze intensiﬁed by Brazil’s victory in
the 1970 World Cup competition. Figueiredo also used this strategy (Fico 1997, ch.
2). But the overemphasis on severity survives.

Understanding the regime requires a more multifaceted, historical, and dispas-
sionate View of the military institution. The dictatorship was brutal, but factional-
ism and internal disagreements over policy and practices necessitate a less mono-
chromatic picture of martial rule and a more careful look at the historical evolution
of civil-military relations.“ The Brazilian military had long political experience and
deemed itself a force for democracy, though in a restricted form. The overthrow of
President Goulart fully contradicted this image, but not the history of earlier inter-
ventions carried out to correct what many ofﬁcers—and civilians—saw as the
politicians’ inability to run the country. After 1964 the leadership did not want to be
seen as dictators or torturers but as true practitioners of democracy protecting
Brazil from totalitarian Communism. Unlike perpetual strongmen such as Pinochet
or Stroessner, the Brazilian generals rotated the presidency, held regular elections,
and used propaganda to maintain a facade of democracy. The Brazilian armed
forces were a large and sophisticated organization that worked hard to put a posi-
tive twist on authoritarianism. Some wanted to turn the country back to the civil-
ians as quickly as possible. It is easy to demonize the military, but to do so makes
for simplistic history. The examples of the deeply faithful General Muricy and of
Colonel Mario Orlando Ribeiro Sampaio (who investigated a group of murderous
torturers before joining the Bipartite) put a human face on the ofﬁcer corps.”

14

Introduction

The Bipartite and Elite Political Culture

Searching for a middle ground was diﬂicult and politically risky for the Church,
which sought to minister to all social groups.” The intense ideological polarization
of the cold war heightened Church—regime tensions throughout Latin America, cre-
ating a logic of war versus a logic of politics (Loveman 1999:184—85). National secu-
rity, militarism, and traditional Catholicism resonated with anti-Communist
authoritarianism. Although the Church had long strived for a third way between
capitalism and Communism, revolution, social activism, and the Popular Church
found aﬂinity with anti-Americanism and the Soviet bloc’s support for the Third
World.“ In Brazil the bishops walked a tightrope between social activism and the
ﬁght against subversion. They also ran the risk of being seen as either too concilia-
tory with or too critical of the government (Drosdoff1986:126).

The middle ground between Church and regime was the singularly Brazilian
approach of the Bipartite. It was a precious example of the Church’s famous but
largely undocumented ability to wield inﬂuence behind the scenes with other mem-
bers of the modern Brazilian elite. Many books on Latin America focus on the elite,
but rarely do secret conversations come out so explicitly as in the story of the
Bipartite.

Elite political culture was part of the wider reality beneath the history of the
commission. Brazil is historically a society that emphasized not strong public insti-
tutions, but family, paternalism, and personal ties.35 The elite had power, wealth,
advanced education, and status. Its ranks included the so-called functional elites,
from such professional categories as the bureaucracy, the bar, the clergy, and the
military. In twentieth-century Brazil, elite origins diversiﬁed, leading to competi-
tion among different groups for control of the central state. At the same time, the
state took on greater importance in the coordination of elite action (Conniff and
McCann 1989a; Conniff 1989).

The Bipartite embodied several traits of this political culture. One of the most
prominent was elite conciliation designed to prevent social and political reform
and to keep the masses out of conﬂict. Historically, masses have had little involve-
ment in politics and elections, and political parties and social movements have
been relatively unimportant. Key decisions were not discussed by the people but
were negotiated among the various factions of the ruling class.” Before and after
the military regime, Brazilian politics remained highly authoritarian and hierarchi-
cal (Hagopian 1996). The form of government, whether despotic or democratic,
was less important than the creation of clienteles by those in power (McDonough

15

Pitt Latin American Series

Billie R. DeWolt,

General Editor

Reid Andrews,
Catherine Conaghon,
and

Jorge I. Dominguez,

Associate Editors

Introduction

1981:xxxiii—xxxiv, 241). Although it involved some grassroots political activity and
constitutional provisions, the unwritten moral concordat between Church and
state was basically a form of elite conciliation, an understanding among inﬂuential
men.

The military shattered the compact of Brazil’s elite by seizing power, creating
open conﬂict among different sectors, and obstructing compromise. On one side
stood the generals, rich businessmen, and technocrats; on the other side, opposi-
tion politicians, the Church, and the leaders of urban labor. More than any other
group, including the opposition party Movimento Democratico Brasileiro (MDB;
Brazilian Democratic Movement), the bishops contested the armed forces’ partici-
pation in politics and government, in part because the military leadership and the
technocrats tried to reduce the Church’s own traditional political status. The mili-
tary violated the rules of interelite relations and even went so far as to change them.
This was unacceptable to the bishops. Normally at the fringe of civilian affairs, the
Church and the military squared off against each other (McDonough 1981)." The
Bipartite attempted to restore Church—state dialogue and set new rules for it. It was
a variety of what political scientists have termed “elite settlement,” whereby repre-
sentatives of elite factions use secret negotiations to break through an impasse
(Burton, Gunther, and Higley 1992:16—17).33 For example, the commission estab-
lished the right of the bishops to complain about the regime in private. Any mem-
ber of the Brazilian elite would have normally claimed such a right. At the Bipartite
it led to harsh debate over socioeconomic reform and torture.”

The Bipartite was also a gentlemanly affair involving highly accomplished,
politically experienced members of an intimate elite. A rugged soldier, General
Muricy was also a well-read intellectual who listened to classical music in his off
hours. In 1969 he ﬁnished third in the internal Army campaign for president.
Muricy had a deep religious faith and held the bishops in high esteem. A proliﬁc
writer, Professor Padilha was emerging as one of the world’s most respected
Catholic philosophers. His father was a governor; his deceased brother had been a
prominent newspaperman. Padilha was Muricy’s godson and had been a contem-
porary of Candido Mendes at a prestigious private Jesuit school. Candido Mendes
was the great-grandson of an illustrious senator who defended bishops persecuted
by the state. As a result, Candido Mendes inherited a title of papal nobility. He was
imbued with great self-conﬁdence and privilege tempered by noblesse oblige and a
profound Christian conviction in favor of social justice. He was also a brilliant and
extremely well-connected academic, lawyer, and politician. Years later both
Candido Mendes and Padilha became members of the Brazilian Academy of

16

Introduction

Letters, a society ofso-called immortal literati. Considered by some to be stuffy and
irrelevant, the academy beautifully mirrors the self-image of the Brazilian ruling
class by electing members from across the professional and political spectrum
and holding elaborate induction ceremonies. Bipartite member Dom Lucas
Moreira Neves also became a member of the Academy of Letters.“ He and the
other bishops shared many of the advantages and characteristics of the Brazilian
elite. Most had spent years studying in Europe and were sophisticated, cosmopoli-
tan men familiar with the corridors of power at the Vatican and in Brazil. Two had
attained the status of cardinal—a step just below that of pope—and three more
would do so before the Bipartite ended. They were pastors but also veteran politi-
cians.“

As Lieutenant Colonel Roberto Paciﬁco Barbosa of the SNI put it, the Bipartite
was a sui generis Brazilian solution to the Church-state crisis.“ It prized dialogue
over conﬂict—a dialogue made possible by the participants’ social status. Church
and state spoke, but so did the intelligent general, the astute bishop, the well-
connected philosopher, and the principled aristocrat. They gathered conﬁdent that
they could smooth over their difﬁculties through secret conversations and the com-
mon bond of their Christian faith and Brazilian cordiality, a trademark of success-
ful Brazilian politicians (Conniff1989:37).43 The Bipartite was also a unique system
for dealing with human rights violations.

Opening Archives, Shaping History

The revelation of the Bipartite has its own history. For two decades, only a few
Church and military insiders and a handful of j ournalists knew of its existence. It is
mentioned only brieﬂy in a few published sources.“ The ﬁrst detailed accounts of
the commission became public in 1992 and 1993, when General Muricy unsealed
his papers and the transcript of a ﬁfty-eight-hour interview given in 1981. Both are
housed at the Centro de Pesquisa e Documentagao de Histéria Contemporanea do
Brasil (CPDOC) of the Fundacao Getulio Vargas (F GV) in Rio de Janeiro. Muricy’s
archive contains hundreds of pages of formerly classiﬁed Bipartite documents. It is
one of the few archives from the military regime to be opened.

General Muricy shaped the history of the Bipartite in three ways. First, he par-
ticipated in it. Second, he selected documents for his archive. As a leading military
ﬁgure concerned with personal and national security he always took great care with
his papers. In his 1981 interview the general stated that throughout his career he
“tore up many things.” He also wrote few letters, instead preferring personal con-

17

Introduction

tact (Muricy 19932339, 408, 458). Therefore, the exceptional contents of the archive
indicate the themes that Muricy thought most important for his own history and
for the history of the regime, for example, the large number of items on the Church.
The archive has only about half of the Bipartite minutes, however. Muricy “pre-
ferred not to keep” the others (Muricy 19932661). The missing papers are most like-
ly buried in the archives of the security forces, as yet unopened to researchers.“
Nevertheless, sufﬁcient minutes remain for piecing together the history of the com-
mission.“ The archive also holds correspondence between General Muricy and the
bishops; records of smaller, less formal meetings of Bipartite members; intelligence
ﬁles on priests and lay activists accused of subversion; the military’s political evalu-
ation of the bishops; and conﬁdential intelligence evaluations of the gatherings.
Finally, General Muricy decided when to release his interview and papers. In 1981,
although the abertura had begun, Brazil was still ﬁrmly planted in authoritarian-
ism, evidenced by the infamous RioCentro bomb explosion in which two terrorist
officers tried to disrupt a prodemocracy rally. Only when the passions of the era
had begun to dissipate somewhat did Muricy feel it was time to reveal his materials
(Muricy interview 2).”

In their content and style the documents often reveal the voices of soldiers and
intelligence ofﬁcers. Given the lack of martial writings on the history of the regime,
the records provide valuable access to the military’s thinking on conﬂict with the
Church. From the regime’s standpoint the Church required courting—but also
investigation and even manipulation in the drive for national security.

Two recently opened collections of military and police documentation offer new
insights into regime surveillance and repression of the Church. These are the mas-
sive archives of the former political police of Rio de Janeiro and S50 Paulo—respec-
tively, the Departamento de Ordem Politica e Social da Guanabara (DOPS-GB;
Department of Political and Social Order)“ and the Departamento Estadual de
Ordem Politica e Social (DEOPS—SP; State Department of Political and Social
Order).49 After the government closed these two agencies in the early 1980s, their
papers went to the Policia Federal, the national investigative police, also a repres-
sive force. Democratic consolidation after 1985 brought the sensitive documents to
local-level historical archives. The papers were opened for research in the mid-
1990s. These developments exempliﬁed how the political process has affected the
writing of history. The collections are especially important because they contain
papers from the military security services, whose archives remain closed. For
instance, they include interrogation transcripts and other documentation from the
infamous torture centers known as DOI-CODI, the Destacamento de Operagoes de

18

Introduction

   

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Informacoes and the Centro de Operacoes de Defesa Interna (Detachment for
Information Operations and Internal Defense Operations Center).5°

Numerous authors have chronicled the public aspects of Church-state clash.
The DOPS and DEOPS documentation reveals in detail for the ﬁrst time the inter-
nal process of how the regime’s agents spied on, evaluated, and planned strategy
against the Church. While most works focus on the Church’s public rhetoric against

19

Introduction

the regime, the creation of a heretofore unstudied underground Church resistance
is also examined here. Other primary sources make possible a new understanding
of the Médici era, Church-state conﬂict, and the Bipartite—such as the Brasil:
Nunca Mais collection of military tribunal proceedings against alleged subversives;
the so—called Archive of Terror of Paraguayan dictator Alfredo Stroessner’s
Asuncion-based police; the National Security Archive in Washington, D.C.; and
Church-related collections such as the Central de Documentagao e Informacao
Cientiﬁca “Prof. Casemiro dos Reis Filho” (CEDIC), the Centro Alceu Amoroso
Lima para a Liberdade (CAALL), the Archive of the Argentine Embassy to the Holy
See, the archive of the diocese of Barra do Pirai—Volta Redonda (ADBPVR), the Jean
Marc van der Weid Collection, the papers of Catholic activist Branca de Mello
Franco Alves, the library of the Instituto Nacional de Pastoral (INP), the Arquivo
Ana Lagoa, and the Arquiro do Itamaraty.51 Besides written sources, this book
employs interviews with sixty-four individuals, including retired generals, mem-
bers of the intelligence community, bishops, priests, former revolutionaries, vic-
tims of the repression and their relatives, human rights activists, and others.

As the authoritarian era fades, the appearance of other primary sources will lead
to greater understanding of the period. This process is essential in a postauthori-
tarian society where most people heard only the military’s version of events or
remained oblivious to them because of censorship. Political opening produces a
documentary opening, which in turn illuminates the past. The degree to which
researchers gain access to the highly sensitive, still hidden papers of the military
security forces will be an important measure of the commitment to building a last-
ing democracy in Brazil. The Church also has a wealth of unreleased documenta-
tion that can ﬁirther explain the history of the military regime.

The next three chapters lay the groundwork for understanding Church-military
relations and the Bipartite. Chapter 2 charts the history of the Church and the Army
in modern Brazil and analyzes how these two key institutions came to clash after
1964. Chapter 3 describes General Muricy’s military career and devotion to
Catholicism; chapter 4 explores the initial phases of Church-state conﬂict by exam-
ining his ties to key bishops, the diplomatic struggle over torture, and the debate
within the Catholic leadership over the best method for denouncing regime abuses.

Chapters 5 through 10 analyze the history of the commission. Chapter 5
describes its founding and modus operandi. Chapter 6 presents the opening
debates, in which the two sides attempted to deﬁne the boundaries of social justice
and subversion. Chapter 7 examines key episodes of conﬂict resolution and con-

20

Introduction

sideration of the Church’s institutional needs. Chapter 8 discusses the struggle over
human rights violations and censorship. Chapters 9 and 10 provide detailed stud-
ies of two cases in which the Bipartite played a key role: the deaths by torture of the
Barra Mansa soldiers and of Leme. Chapter 11 provides an epilogue to the Bipartite
and discusses its signiﬁcance.

A few words of clariﬁcation are necessary concerning the terms “social justice”
and “subversion.” Each term embraces a broad range of activities and interpreta-
tions that vary according to circumstances and perspective. Here “social justice”
generally signiﬁes the attempt by the Church to bring about a more equal society,
in which human and democratic rights would be respected. For some Catholics
“social justice” meant adhering to the measured teachings of the popes, whereas for
others the term implied much more, including the implantation of socialism.
Clearly some aspects of the struggle for “social justice” were indeed “subversion” in
the sense that they threatened to upset or transform the social status quo.
“Subversion” had an even more diffuse deﬁnition than “social justice.” It could
refer speciﬁcally to revolutionary or political actions prohibited by the regime—for
example, kidnapping, bank robberies, and the creation of armed opposition move-
ments. But during the Médici years it became the military’s catchall phrase for any-
thing that smelled of leftism, that threatened the political status quo or implied
criticism of the regime—for example, peasant organizations, student unions, and
protest songs. Subversion was alleged as if a crime, or imputed to individuals as if
a violation of a larger moral, religious, and political code and system—the social
order as deﬁned by the regime. As one author has written, subversion was the
regime’s enemy, but also its justiﬁcation for existence (Huggins 19982197).
Subversion here and in subsequent chapters is discussed from the military’s per-
spective: a “subversive” was someone thought to be so by the regime. While chap-
ter 1o analyzes in depth a particular case of alleged subversion, it is impossible here
to examine in such detail the many other cases referred to. The relevant fact is that
the military and the security forces used the notion of subversion to level accusa-
tions against their enemies. The Church questioned the notion but often also the
veracity of the alleged acts. The very ambiguity of these terms led the bishops and
the ofﬁcers to debate them at the Bipartite.

21

Chapter 2 The Church and the Army

22.

Modernizotion and the Dual Revolution

his chapter explains why and how the cross and the sword
clashed after 1964.1 The ﬁrst section traces their histories
from the start of the First Republic (1889-1930) to the eve
of the military government. The second section demon-

 

strates the rapid deterioration in their relations after 1964
because of a dual revolution in which the Church embraced social
justice and human rights and the military attacked subversion. The
third section reveals new dimensions of the resulting struggle: the
regime’s mechanism for controlling the Church and the Catholic
opposition’s organization of a peaceful resistance. It also explores the
meanings of subversion for the military and the security forces.

In this period Brazil struggled to throw off four centuries of dom-
inance by monarchy and the powerful landed elite to become a mod-
ern nation. The country remained steeped in tradition nevertheless,
experiencing the stresses of economic development, rapid and mas-
sive urbanization, intermittent attempts at democracy, and slow,
unsure steps toward social reform. In seeking to inﬂuence this
process, the Church and the Army coexisted in a dialectical relation-
ship of collaboration and competition. Each endeavored to act as the
high priest of a Brazilian national ideology deﬁned according to the
values of religious tradition, patriotism, and social order. The Church
preached the notion of an “intrinsically Christian Brazil,” whereas the
military emphasized an ethic of “order and progress” rooted in nine-
teenth-century Positivism, a philosophy that advocated the replace-
ment of religion with belief in scientiﬁc explanation (Sanchis 1980).

These two pillars of Brazilian society had much in common. They

were modern Brazil’s only nationally dispersed elite institutions

The Church and the Army

(McCann 1989:47—48). They shared an emphasis on hierarchy, obedience, and dis-
cipline. Both were dominated by males? Neither tied itself to a single political cur-
rent. Historically, each contributed to national integration. During the ﬁrst decades
of the independent empire (1822-1889), the military helped hold together Brazil’s
varied and often rebellious provinces. As Portugal’s partner in colonization, the
Church helped impose European cultural dominance. It implanted Catholicism,
paciﬁed and indoctrinated the natives and African slaves, educated the elite, and
prescribed Western models of the family and sexuality. In the nineteenth and twen-
tieth centuries a number of clergymen spurred the development of nationalism.

Church and Army also diverged in many ways. The former stressed spirituality
and peace, the latter trained for war. The Church was a transnational organization
with multiple allegiances—to Brazil, the homelands of its numerous foreign cler-
gymen, and the Vatican. The Army was a strictly national institution, though it was
deeply inﬂuenced by the German, French, and U.S. armed forces.

The Military Academy and the Catholic seminaries highlighted how two very
different cultures emerged in the Army and the Church in the twentieth century.
Candidates to the priesthood prepared for celibacy, the instruction of Catholic
orthodoxy, and devotion to the transcendent. They dwelled in a place of books,
crosses, cassocks, and saints. They congregated before the altar and sang hymns.
The Virgin Mary was their protectress. Isolated from the world and its purported
evils, seminarians prepared to minister to their ﬂocks as representatives of God.
They were to imitate Christ and prepare for a life of the mass, spirituality, and
morals. Cadets learned to become leaders of a different kind. Bellies to the ground,
bodies hardened, subject to harsh hazing and the rituals of martial life, they drilled
for battle. Their world was one of military manuals, guns, uniforms, heroic war-
riors. Salutes and the barking of orders ﬁlled their days. They were judged by stan-
dards of physical courage and manliness. The cadets’ isolation made them different
from the rest of the populace, but they had far more frequent contact with the pub-
lic, including women, than the seminarians (Castro 1990). In sum, ecclesiastical
and military training turned out men with contrasting visions of society. The dif-
ferences did not preclude cooperation, but they often hindered understanding.

The Quest for Modernization

As Brazil began to modernize in the mid-nineteenth century the Church and
the Army each responded to internal crises by seeking to reorganize and to increase
their inﬂuence in society. As part of the emerging middle sectors, ofﬁcers entered

23

The Church and the Army

politics in order to improve their social status. They decried government neglect of
the Army and the incompetence of civilian politicians. In 1889, the Army overthrew
Emperor Dom Pedro II and set up Brazil’s ﬁrst military dictatorship (1889-1894).
The increasingly interventionist armed forces took over the emperor’s former role
as a “moderating power” in civilian political crises. The military sought to create
respect for authority. Sometimes it went to extremes, as in the bloody massacre of
thousands at Canudos in 1897. “Order and progress”—not republican democra-
cy—became the motto of the new Brazilian ﬂag. The Army came to see itself as the
povofardado (the people in uniform), a justiﬁcation for later incursions into politics
(Carvalho 1987:48—52; Stepan 1971:43—44, 99).

During the First Republic, the Army struggled to maintain unity and to redeﬁne
its purpose and mechanisms of social control. Reforms in oﬂicer training aimed to
strengthen institutional cohesiveness and discipline. French advisors convinced the
leadership of the relationship between internal security, national defense, and the
economy—the inspiration for the national security rationale of the 1950s and
beyond. In the 1920s, young nationalistic officers, discontented with corruption
and political favoritism, rebelled against the powerﬁil rural oligarchy and their
government allies. These tenentes (lieutenants) backed the liberal revolution that
brought Vargas to power in 1930. Opposing factions emerged within this group,
however. They helped deﬁne the struggle between the Brazilian left and the con-
servative proponents of the Doctrine of National Security (DNS) in the 1950s and
1960s.

The Church struggled to overcome chronic weakness caused by a jealous
monarchy’s restrictions on the clergy—for example, the expulsion of the powerful
Jesuit order in 1759. From 1872 to 1875, Church and state clashed over the so-called
Religious Question. Senator Candido Mendes, the great—grandfather of Bipartite
founder Candido Mendes, defended Dom Vital Maria Gongalves de Oliveira and
Dom Antonio de Macedo Costa, two bishops jailed for ignoring a government
order allowing Masons to remain members of the important Catholic confraterni-
ties. The Church and the armed forces began the republican era in conﬂict. The
Positivist-inspired military regime separated Church from state and ended Catholic
privileges.

During the First Republic, freedom from government control allowed the
Church to rebuild under the direction of the Vatican. The Catholic restoration
spawned an ideology of neo-Christendom, which advocated a religious monopoly
and a major political role for the Church. Under the leadership of Dom Sebastiao
Leme da Silveira Cintra, the archbishop of Olinda and Recife (1916-1921) and later

24

The Church and the Army

Rio. de Janeiro (1930-1942), the Church recovered its privileges, and leaders
acknowledged it as a bulwark of social stability. With Vargas, Church and state
established an informal pact of cooperation, or moral concordat (Beozzo 1986:275,
287-89, 293-98). This was an extraordinary achievement in comparison with the
cases of such countries as Mexico, Chile, Cuba, and France, where the church failed
to reenter the public domain after being forced out. It included state subsidies for
Catholic social works. This aid renewed the Church’s historical role as a social arm
of the state but also created ﬁnancial dependence (Serbin 1995). The moral concor-
dat thrived under President Eurico Gaspar Dutra (1946-1951), the second Vargas
government (1951-1954), and the terms of Juscelino Kubitschek (1956-1961), Janio
Quadros (1961), and Joao Goulart (1961-1964).

The Church’s new prominence led to vast improvement in its relations with the
armed forces. As Positivism waned in the 1920s, the number of officers seeking
baptism increased, and the Church cooperated with the military on the draft
(Carvalho 1982). In 1923, Pope Pius XI issued a papal blessing for the Irmandade da
Santa Cruz dos Militares (Military Confraternity of the Holy Cross) and granted it
prestigious afﬁliation with a basilica in Rome (Irmandade 1981; Relatério 1952).
Banned under the First Republic, military chaplaincies were revived in the 1930s.
During this period the military cultivated new respect for the Church hierarchy. For
instance, the military hailed Dom Leme as a “soldier of our country,” after he
arranged for the peaceﬁil departure of deposed President Washington Luis Pereira
de Sousa in the Revolution of 1930 (“Dom Sebastiﬁo Leme” 1930226).

Political trends in the 1930s reinforced the Church-military relationship. A
failed Communist revolt in 1935 caused a deep rift in the armed forces and height-
ened fear of Communism on the right and in the Church. The quasi-fascist Acao
Integralista Brasileira (AIB; Brazilian Integralist Action) now gained inﬂuence. AIB
adopted a heavily corporatist political philosophy combined with Catholicism, and
it included many priests. Father Hélder Cémara, for instance, belonged to its
supreme council. AIB also had a strong following in the military. But Vargas was
interested more in holding power than in speciﬁc ideologies. After establishing the
dictatorial Estado Novo with the military, he abolished AIB and all other political
organizations. The Church, however, retained its privileges.

During World War II the Church sent military chaplains to minister to the Forca
Expedicionéria Brasileira (FEB; Brazilian Expeditionary Force), which fought along-
side U.S. forces in Italy. These priests built a strong relationship with the FEBianos.3
One popular father, the Franciscan Frei Orlando, died in Italy and became patron
of Brazil’s military chaplains (Palhares 1969).

25

Kenneth P. Serbin
Secret Dialogues

Church-State Relations, Torture, and Social Justice

in Authoritarian Brazil

University of Pittsburgh Press

The Church and the Army

The “pious 19503” marked the pinnacle of the neo—Christendom model and har-
monious Church-state and Church-military relationsf’ For instance, the Thirty-
Sixth International Eucharistic Congress, held in Rio in 1955, promoted the
Catholic faith, anti-Communism, Brazilian tourism, and economic progress. More
than a million people attended. CardinalJaime de Barros Camara (Dom Leme’s suc-
cessor) and his auxiliary, Dom Hélder, united the efforts of the federal government,
the business community, laborers, and the armed forces, which provided generous
logistical and material support.5

Paragons of the moral concordat, Dom Jaime and Dom Hélder maintained close
ties to the military. As a child, Dom Jaime ﬁrst wanted to enter the military. A num-
ber of his relatives were ofﬁcers. His uncle and godfather was Marshal Joao Xavier
da Cﬁmara, a Positivist who nevertheless believed that “a priest serves our country
just as well as a soldier” (Calliari1996:32). His older half-brother became a colonel.
As archbishop, Dom Jaime was vicar of the armed forces and supported the mili-
tary chaplaincies. He traveled on Brazilian Air Force planes, met regularly with high
officials, and frequently celebrated special masses for the military, including the

Dom Leme (seated at left) escorting deposed president Washington Luis to safety during the

Revolution of193o. The cardinal 3* leadership brought the Church to new prominence in Brazilian
life and inaugurated the era of the moral concordat.

26

The Church and the Army

Anti-Communism strengthened Church-Army ties during the cold war. Using a jeep as an altar, a

priest says an open-air mass for soldiers and their families in Cachoeira do Sul, Rio Grande do
Sul, April 1947.

annual memorial services for soldiers killed in the 1935 Communist uprising. (After
1964 these commemorations served as a warning against the dangers of leftist rev-
olution.) When Dom Jaime died in 1970, the Air Force ﬂew his body to Rio de
Janeiro for burial (Calliari 1996). Dom Hélder was especially popular with the elite.
He became an advisor to President Kubitschek. His prestige extended to the armed
services, where he preached to soldiers. Officers donated to his charitable fund, the
Banco da Providéncia (Caramuru interview).

The Church and the Armed Forces, 1955-1974: The Dual Revolution

In the 19503, however, the Church and the armed forces also began to plant
seeds of disagreement. Both worked to modernize again by developing new ideolo-
gies in response to new challenges. The political polarization of the 1960s deepened
these differences. Ideological and historical shifts unleashed a dual revolution in
Brazil. These were not social revolutions, but institutional, political, and religious.
They had a deep impact on both the military and the Church and for two decades

27

The Church and the Army

largely shaped national life. On the one hand the armed forces overthrew President
Goulart to avert what it believed would be the communization of Brazil. The armed
forces referred to this action as the Revolution of 1964. They quickly expanded their
ﬁght against Communism to include all opponents of the Brazilian status quo (as
deﬁned by the regime). On the other hand most of the bishops instinctively sup-
ported the coup as an anti-Communist measure. As polarization led to violence and
the military deepened its control of the country, however, the Church carried out a
religious revolution in which it stressed social justice and assimilated the efforts of
a new generation of Catholic radicals. Over the next ten years, the Church and the
military engaged in the worst conﬂict in their history.

9 The Military

The military revolution began after World War II. The integration of U.S. and
Brazilian militaries was unparalleled in Latin America and led Brazil to believe it
had a special relationship with the United States. Sweetened with aid packages,
these ties led the FEBianos to join the West in the cold war.

In 1949 the Army established the National War College, the ESG, modeled on
the U.S. National War College, which became a bastion of anti-Communism and
the advocate of free trade. The Army also formulated a new Doctrine of National
Security (DNS), which reﬂected the experience of total war in Europe and the fear
of internal threats to security from the cold war. DNS focused on the political and
psychological dangers of leftism and asserted the interdependence of security and
economic development. The ESG, which also had civilian graduates, expanded the
armed forces’ role in politics and supplied the leadership of the military regime. In
the analysis of historian Carlos Fico, the ESG and the DNS reﬂected the Brazilian
elite’s traditional authoritarian view of the Brazilian people as morally degenerate
and lazy and therefore incapable of self-government (Fico 1997). Like the Positivists
and the tenentes, the ESG program hoped to reform the nation in a military mold
(McCann 1989:75). Ultimately, the DNS helped resurrect Brazil’s centuries—old aim
to become a world power and cast the armed services as defenders of Western
Christian civilization against Communism (Fico 1997:85—86).

The ESG competed for political inﬂuence with the CNBB, the Brazilian
Communist Party (PCB), and the Instituto Superior de Estudos Brasileiros (ISEB;
Advanced Institute for Brazilian Studies). The ISEB was a nationalistic think tank
formed within the Ministry of Education in 1954. Members such as Candido
Mendes espoused the Vargas and Kubitschek models of nationalist developmental-
ism and political and cultural independence. The CNBB and the Church essential-

28

The Church and the Army

ly represented a “third way” reformist strategy that rejected extreme leftism but
also criticized capitalism. A

The ESG ofﬁcers played an important role in political events between 1954 and
1964. They opposed Vargas, who ended his second presidency (1951-1954) by com-
mitting suicide after the military pressured him to resign. Some tried to block
Vargas’s political heir Juscelino Kubitschek from inauguration to the presidency in
1956, only to be foiled by a preemptive coup staged by moderates. (The ESG candi-
date, General Juarez Tavora, had lost the election.) In 1961 the conservative officers
nearly prevented Vice President Joao Goulart, another Vargas heir, from assuming
the top office after President Quadros, elected in 1960, suddenly resigned. Anti-
Communism became the justiﬁcation for these military interventions.

The Cuban Revolution, the failed Bay of Pigs invasion, and the Cuban missile cri-
sis raised the stakes of the cold war and made Latin America a crucial center of oper-
ations. As revolutionary warfare erupted around the globe, Brazil joined the U.S.
and other Latin American militaries in preparing counterinsurgency operations.
Conservative ofﬁcers opposed the populist Goulart because of his ties to Vargas,
unions, Communists, and other groups demanding profound social reform. As he
turned left, Goulart angered conservatives and the United States. Anti-Communism
reached a frenzy. ESG officers, businessmen, and opposition politicians conspired
to overthrow Goulart, and half a million people, including conservative Catholics,
marched in protest against the government in the streets of S50 Paulo.

The golpe, or coup, that came on March 31, 1964, inaugurated an era of violent
McCarthyism in Brazil and Latin America. Golpes ensued elsewhere until virtually
all the region fell under anti-Communist military rule in the 1970s. These regimes
shared a common belief in national development, anti-Marxism, and disdain for
politicians and traditional liberal democracy (Loveman 1999:187—88).

The military revealed plans for long-term occupation of the Palacio do Planalto,
the presidential ofﬁces in Brasﬂia. A helpless Brazilian Congress voted in as presi-
dent General Humberto de Alencar Castello Branco, a FEBiano, ESG member, and
coup leader. The military swiftly purged the armed forces and the political system
of thousands of leftists, labor leaders, opposition politicians, ofﬁcers, priests, and
Catholic militants. Many were tortured. In 1965, the military replaced the three
major political parties with two ofﬁcial ones and made certain elections indirect. In
1967, it issued a new constitution. Manipulation of elections and the political sys-
tem continued to the end of the regime.

Intelligence-gathering and repression were top priorities of the dictatorship. In
1964 chief ESG ideologue Colonel Golbery do Couto e Silva, a FEBiano, founded the

29

The Church and the Army

SNI. The SNI spied widely on Brazilians and worked with other agencies to combat
subversion. Its power became so immense that Golbery later lamented he had cre-
ated “a monster” (D’Araujo, Soares, and Castro 1994a:14). However, the feared CIE,
the Centro de Informagoes da Marinha (CENIMAR; Navy Information Center),
and the Centro de Informagoes e Seguranca da Aeronéutica (CISA; Air Force
Information and Security Center) carried out the actual repressive operations and
became powerful components of the intelligence community. Through the CIE, for
example, the Army Ministry commanded the DOI-CODI interrogation centers.
The intelligence community formed “a state within the state” (Stepan 1988:27).5 In
1967 Castello Branco issued the Lei de Seguranca Nacional (LSN; National Security
Law), which made national security a civic duty. These measures established the
basic repressive policies of the regime until the abertura gained momentum at the
end of Geisel’s term.

In the early years, the generals spoke of redemocratization, but the prospects
lessened as conﬂict between the regime and the opposition worsened and as intra-
military factionalism developed. A fundamental division became clear between the
so-called Castellistas (the moderate soft-line group of Castello Branco), and the
Costistas (the more radical hard-liners, followers of General Artur da Costa e Silva).
The Castellistas demonstrated a greater outward commitment to democracy and
constitutional procedure, and saw military intervention as only a temporary solu-
tion to political crises. They wanted a quick return to civilian rule. The Castellistas
included Golbery, Ernesto Geisel, Muricy, and a host of other generals who had
studied at the ESG. Because of their more intellectual orientation they became
known as the Sorbonne Group. They were also largely pro-American. The hard-
liners foiled Castello Branco’s plans to redemocratize, forced the regime to become
more authoritarian, and pushed successfully for the election of Costa e Silva, who
took office in 1967. The hard-liners had strength among the colonels and tended to
be more nationalistic than the Castellistas. They emphasized repression of the
opposition and the Church and were more distrustﬁil of civilian politicians. They
generally opposed a quick return to civilian rule and in the 1970s fought for the per-
manence of the military in power. They committed terrorist acts in an attempt to
push the regime further to the right. Costa e Silva, who himself announced inten-
tions to humanize the Revolution, increasingly lost control of the hard-liners, who
forced him to deepen martial rule yet further.

Although the soft-line/hard-line categorization is helpful for understanding the
regime, other subfactions developed based on the personal leadership and ideo-
logical tendencies of particular generals. In the late 1960s and early 1970s all fac-

30

The Church and the Army

tions rallied around Costa e Silva and Médici in the ﬁght against the guerrillas.
Whether any of them were actually democratic is highly doubtful, because they had
supported the overthrow of the freely elected Goulart.

The year 1968 was critical. Around the world cold war paranoia, student protest
against the establishment, and cultural experimentalism reached their height. In
Brazil labor strikes and student protests against the regime and its pro-American
policies led to a renewed crackdown on the opposition. The cascade of events began
in March 1968 when a policeman killed a student, Edson Luis de Lima Souto, spark-
ing street battles between soldiers and students in Rio de Janeiro and nationwide
protests. In June, one hundred thousand people ﬁled through the streets of Rio in
the largest demonstration against the regime since the coup. Both right—wing ter-
rorists and leftist revolutionaries had become active in Brazil in the early 196os,7
but the increasingly polarized domestic and international political climate inten-
siﬁed the radical left’s violent efforts to overthrow the government. It appeared as
if the military were losing control.

The situation worsened after congressman Marcio Moreira Alves denounced
the repression and asked Brazilian women to deny themselves to men in uniform.
The hard-liners staged a “coup within a coup” against Costa e Silva, forcing him to
issue Ato Institucional No. 5 (AI-5; Institutional Act No. 5). Broadcast repeatedly on
December 13, 1968, AI-5 closed Congress, eliminated civil liberties and freedom of
the press, and gave the military carte blanche to squash the opposition. Hundreds
were arrested. One visiting foreign political scientist observed that AI-5 provided
the Brazilian armed forces with more powers than Mussolini had held in fascist
Italy (Trindade 1994:136).

National politics became the domain of the armed forces. Along with growing
competition among diverse factions, this immense responsibility threatened to
shatter military unity. An intense competition for Costa e Silva’s post ensued after
he suffered a stroke in August 1969. The compromise choice was General Médici,
the commander of the Third Army in Rio Grande do Sul, former SNI head, and for
many the best bet to keep peace within the military.8 Although Médici ﬁnished his
term uncontested for power, many at ﬁrst wondered whether his political weakness
and inexperience would permit him to survive. Such was the assessment of a secret
seven-hundred—page study prepared for Henry Kissinger in late 1969. A team of
U.S. diplomatic, military, and national security officials interviewed members of
the Brazilian elite and commented on the country's political and socioeconomic
conditions? The threat of social instability was especially dangerous.

Brazil had begun a small-scale civil war.“ The spiral of guerrilla ‘warfare and

31

The Church and the Army

repression made the Médici era the most violent of the regime. In the cities the
guerrillas hoped to spark a popular uprising. In emulation of the Chinese and
Cuban Revolutions, they also tried to open a rural front in the vast Amazon region.
They stockpiled arms, robbed banks, exploded bombs, kidnapped diplomats, and
attacked military installations. The most spectacular operation was the September
1969 abduction of U.S. ambassador Burke Elbrick. To obtain his release the military
agreed to broadcast the guerrillas’ revolutionary manifesto and to ﬂy ﬁfteen politi-
cal prisoners to safety in Mexico City on September 7, 1969, Independence Day.

In response Médici allowed the military, the police, and special antiguerrilla
units to work freely. They ﬁercely counterattacked, spying on leftists, inﬁltrating
their ranks, and raiding hideouts. With thousands of victims, the use of torture to
extract information was clearly a policy of the military regime (Nassif 1995). The
“dirty war” against subversives resulted in 138 disappearances and 184 deaths
(Comissﬁo de Familiares 199629-18). These numbers paled beside the statistics of
the regime in Argentina, where estimates put the number of desaparecidos at
1o,ooo or more, or in Guatemala, where a decades-long war between guerrillas and
the government took as many as 2oo,ooo lives. The ﬁgures become even less
signiﬁcant in light of Brazil’s population, the largest in the region. Even so, Brazil’s
security forces created an effective climate of fear by systematically intimidating the
populace. At a moment’s notice troops and agents could round up thousands of
people. Torturers used a horrifying array of techniques on prisoners: beatings, star-
vation, suffocation, near drowning, electric shocks to the genitals, rape, exposure to
snakes and cockroaches, psychological abuse, and the infamous “parrot’s perch,” a
metal bar from which a bound individual was hung, then shocked and beaten. The
S50 Paulo archdiocesan report Brasil: nunca mais later documented the abuses in
detail.“ By 1971 the military had largely liquidated the urban guerrilla threat; the
Amazon ﬁghters went down between 1973 and early 1975. As a result, the govern-
ment was able to relax the repression, but shocking incidents still kept alive the fear
of repression throughout the Geisel years.

One of Médici’s most potent weapons was a brilliant, subtle propaganda cam-
paign carried out by his special assistant for public relations, Colonel Octavio
Costa, with the assistance of psychologists, sociologists, journalists, and publicity
agencies. Costa’s work advanced the techniques of modern political advertising in
Brazil. His ﬁlms and television spots conspicuously lacked personal reference to the
generals and deﬂected attention from the dirty war by avoiding mention of the
guerrilla movement. Costa’s campaign stole the opposition’s thunder. His puns
turned the revolutionary left’s favorite slogans into catchy phrases expressing the

32

The Church and the Army

Regime propagandist Colonel Octavio Costa lauded the “miracle” while ignoring the guerrillas.

governments concern for the people. For instance, “down with the dictatorshipi’
became “down with the dictatorship of prices” (on Costa and publicity, see Fico
1997). The regime skillfully used religious symbols and language to demonstrate its
adherence to Catholic culture—for example, by incorporating statements from
papal encyclicals in descriptions of government programs (Comblin 1979).
Borrowing Christian themes, Colonel Costa’s “spiritualized” propaganda often
spoke of love, peace, social harmony, solidarity, participation, and “nonViolence.””
N50-Violéncia was the name of an opposition group founded by Dom Hélder.

On the economic front, the regime worked to correct what it saw as the errors

33

Playing the role of politician, General Medici visits the T ransamazon Highway in October 1971. It
became one of the symbols of his administrations drive to enhance Brazil is greatness.

The Church and the Army

and proﬂigacy of Vargas and his successors. Conservative technocrats ﬁgured
prominently in government strategy. Castello Branco’s pro—United States advisors
moved to cut the high inﬂation rate, stabilize the economy, and attract foreign
investment. These policies laid the basis for the high growth rates of the so-called
economic miracle of the late 1960s and early 1970s, when annual growth topped 10
percent. During this period the government invested heavily in infrastructural proj-
ects such as dams and the Transamazon Highway and provided ﬁscal incentives for
loggers and ranchers to exploit the rain forest. In Sao Paulo heavy industry boomed.
In the 1970s the generals also made Brazil a major arms exporter. The social price
of economic success was the repression of the workers, with the regime prohibiting
strikes and intervening in an already paternalistic labor system inherited from
Vargas. Wages showed little if any improvement (Alves 1985:74—79, 151-53).” Yet
Médici was popular. Although the poor owned less and less of the total wealth, jobs
were plentiful. Economic euphoria affected all sectors of the population as Brazil
grew from forty-third-largest economy in the West in 1964 to the eighth-largest in
1980.14

The Church

The Church’s revolution also began after World War 11. Rapid socioeconomic
change, the threat of Communism, the growth of Protestantism and Afro-Brazilian
religions, and the assimilation of European theological and philosophical innova-
tions provided impetus for change within the Church. Priests, bishops, and lay
workers adhered to a new economic nationalism and preached social transforma-
tion. For instance, in the late 1940s bishops began demanding reform of the highly
inequitable system of landholding, which they saw as the cause of burgeoning
migration to the urban slums. Many Catholics also questioned the neo-
Christendom model of the Church.

A key innovation was the creation in 1952 of the CNBB, one of the world’s ﬁrst
episcopal conferences and one of the foundations of Brazilian Catholic progres-
sivism. Dom Hélder, other bishops from his native Northeast, and a small group of
priests and lay volunteers dominated the CNBB during his tenure as secretary gen-
eral (1952-1964). The CNBB served as an advocate for the Brazilian Church at the
national and international levels, sponsored biannual (and later annual) assem-
blies, and addressed numerous Church problems, including the need to establish
national pastoral and political strategies. Most important, it advocated economic
nationalism as the way to social progress (Bernal 1989). Dom Hélder also helped
found the Conselho Episcopal Latino-Americano (CELAM; Council of Latin

35

Published by the University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, Pa. 15261
Copyright © 2000, University of Pittsburgh Press

All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
Printed on acid-free paper

10987654321

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Serbin, Kenneth P.

Secret dialogues : church-state relations, torture, and social justice in authori-

tarian Brazil /
Kenneth P. Serbin.
p. cm. — (Pitt latin american series)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-8229-4123-6 (alk. paper) -—— ISBN 0-8229-5726-4 (pbk. : alk. paper)

1. Comisién Bipartite—History. 2. Catholic Church—-Brazil-——Political
activity——History—20th century. 3. Church and state—Catholic Church—
History—20th century. 4. Church and state—Brazil——History—20th century.
5. Brazil——Politics and government—1964—1985. I. Title. 11. Series.

BX1466.2 .348 2000 I

981.o6'3——dc21 00-009649

Photo credits: Arquivo Nacional (cover and ﬁgures 4, 5, 9, 11-13, 15, 17, 19, 21-23, 25,
31, 32), CAALL (14), Maria Aparecida de Jesus da Silva family (29), FGV/CPDOC—
Arquivo Antonio Carlos Muricy (1, 3, 6-8, 10, 16, 26), FGV/CPDOC—Arquivo Haroldo
Pereira (2), Leme family (33), Terry Vincent McIntyre (30), Vice-Admiral Roberval
Pizzaro Marques (20), Evangelina Ribeiro family (27), O Sdo Paula (34, 35), Kenneth P.
Serbin (18, 24), Virote family (28).

On the cover and title page: Cadets from the Brazilian Naval Academy (Escola Naval)
parading on the Avenida Presidente Vargas, Rio de Janeiro, Independence Day, 1968.
The Igreja de Candelaria (Candelaria Church) stands in the background.

The Church and the Army

American Bishops). At the second general assembly of CELAM at Medellin,
Colombia, in 1968 the bishops forged a statement calling for social justice and con-
demning Latin American underdevelopment and violence. This statement
launched liberation theology and the Popular Church in the continent.

A strong Catholic left emerged in Brazil in the early 1960s. The leading group
was Acao Catolica Brasileira (ACB; Brazilian Catholic Action), which became heav-
ily inﬂuenced by economic nationalism. Counseled by priests, in the late 1950s
young ACB militants joined the labor movement. Many worked in the Church’s
Movimento de Educagﬁo de Base (MEB; Basic Education Movement). Like other lit-
eracy programs of the era, MEB stressed conscientizagcio, the political “conscious-
ness-raising” of the downtrodden. The most radical ACB groups were the
Juventude Operaria Catolica (JOC; Catholic Youth Workers) and the Juventude
Universitaria Catélica (JUC; Catholic University Youth). They were further galva-
nized by the Cuban Revolution into advocating anti—imperialist socialism.

Change in the international Church legitimated innovations in Brazil and
spurred others. Meeting in Rome from 1962 to 1965, the Second Vatican Council
(Vatican II) gathered more than two thousand bishops and hundreds of theolo-
gians from around the globe. They reformulated doctrine and structures in an
attempt to move Catholicism out of its post—World War II malaise and toward rel-
evancy in the rapidly changing modern world. Vatican II was clearly the most wide-
ranging reform in the history of the Church. It approved such novelties as worker-
priests, the mass in the vernacular (instead of the traditional Latin), and greater
emphasis on the laity as the “people of God,” a trend shared by ACB. Vatican II
stressed dialogue within the institution and with other faiths and philosophies.
Although dominated by Europeans, Vatican II assimilated many ideas from Latin
America, thanks to the behind-the-scenes lobbying of Dom Hélder and Dom
Manuel Larrain of Chile. In turn, the council’s emphasis on social justice and
human rights impelled Latin American theologians, clergymen, and sisters to delve
into work with the impoverished majority.

Human rights were an especially new idea for the Church. The Church had hes-
itated in adopting human rights because of their close association with liberalism,
an enemy of Catholicism in the nineteenth century. In his 1963 encyclical Pacem in
Terris, Pope John XXIII, who had convoked Vatican 11, made the United Nations’
1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights part of the ofﬁcial teaching of the
Church (Lowden 1996213).

Vatican II created great expectations but also great uncertainty in the Church.
After so much change, what did it now mean to be Catholic? Priests embodied the

36

The Church and the Army

crisis of identity. They were suddenly expected to leap from a sixteenth— to a twen-
tieth—century mentality, but Vatican II had done little to clarify their role. Surveys
and scrutiny by sociologists did little to help. Some clergymen bared their souls
before psychoanalysts. Others sought relevance by living among the poor and
resisting the dictatorship. Many awaited the development of a more democratic
Church and an end to obligatory celibacy. But dialogue had limits, and the Vatican
refused to budge on these last two points. As a result, tens of thousands of clergy-
men left the ministry. In Brazil alone almost two thousand of the country’s thirteen
thousand fathers quit their positions in the late 1960s and 1970s. The Church lost
some of its best minds. For the bishops it was a painful situation that undercut their
ability to command their clergy, tend their ﬂocks, and show a secure face to the mil-
itary.-‘*5

In the midst of Vatican II, the coup provided a political litmus test for the
Church. Brazil’s political polarization highlighted two opposing camps. On the
right stood religious and social conservatives, who decried the dangers of change.
On the left were ACB militants, radical priests, and the CNBB leadership, which had
supported Goulart’s social reforms. The two sides clashed when thirty—three of the
leading bishops assembled at a special meeting in late May 1964 to write a declara-
tion on the Revolution. The conservatives praised the coup and condemned
Communism. A previously unstudied draft of the progressives’ statement showed
that originally they pushed for a condemnation of the “martyrdom” of Catholics
targeted by the repression. The draft criticized the military for claiming the right to
distinguish between Christianity and Marxism and for lacking respect for even the
pope. If the regime refused dialogue, the progressives were prepared to jettison the
moral concordat in order to preserve the “purity” of the Church’s testimony.” Had
this document been published, it would have overshadowed even the episcopal
statements of the 19703 that harshly criticized the regime but did not call for a
break with the state.

The two sides compromised. The result was a confusing, self-contradictory pro-
nouncement that profusely thanked the armed forces for saving Brazil from
Communism as it also pleaded for an end to attacks on Church activists and for
protection from “the abuses of liberal capitalism” (Lima 1979:147—49). This was an
odd and surrealistic restatement of the traditional Catholic “third way” between
Communism and capitalism. More signiﬁcant, in the words of priest-journalist
Charles Antoine, the bishops showed “an extraordinary agility in the art of com-
promise, even at the risk of opening the way to injustice.” Indeed, the declaration
served as an important vote of conﬁdence for the new regime.”

37

The Church and the Army

Some bishops took a neutral position by advocating a wait-and—see approach.
This last group included progressives such as Dom Hélder, who held out hope that
social reform could move ahead under the new government. Although he did not
win their full conﬁdence, Dom Hélder remained cordial with the military leaders
and initially refrained from criticizing them in public.” ,

Indeed, until the early 1970s most bishops maintained a cautious but hopeful
attitude toward the regime and largely remained silent as Catholic radicals were
arrested and tortured. The bishops themselves dissolved JUC in 1968, and JOC was
brutally hounded by the security forces, leaving ACB a shell of its former self. Many
bishops even doubted that abuses existed.” Political considerations caused the
Church to hold back on its criticism of torture. In 1969, for instance, Father Amaury
Castanho, the editor of the archdiocesan newspaper 0 S410 Paulo, prepared an edi-
torial against torture but was ordered by Cardinal Agnelo Rossi, the archbishop of
Sao Paulo, not to print it.2°

The repression aggravated tensions between Catholic ultraconservatives and
progressives, but on the whole it caused the Church to close ranks to defend itself
and other victims of the regime. In the late 1960s, some bishops started to
denounce torture and violence as well as the government’s highly inegalitarian eco-
nomic policies. Soon the Church became the “voice of the voiceless,” practically the
only institution able to contest the dictatorship.” As power in the CNBB shifted to
the progressives, former ACB members and other militants undertook grassroots
political and religious activism. The emerging Popular Church implemented a
series of politically important innovations such as the Comunidades Eclesiais de
Base (CEBS; Basic Ecclesial Communities) and organizations to promote the redis-
tribution of land, the rights of Amerindians, and the independent labor movement.
The Popular Church’s theoretical blueprint was liberation theology, which empha-
sized social transformation as salvation.

Repression and Church Resistance, 1969-1974

The military increasingly viewed the Church as a nest of subversion, especially
the radical sectors that opposed the government. Military suspicions started as
early as 1960, when General Castello Branco warned Dom Hélder that the Church
was “abandoning its religious functions and exaggerating its involvement in the
affairs of the state” (Viana Filho 1976:53o—31). The attacks on the Church were the
worst since the expulsion of the Jesuits two centuries earlier. Looking for subversive
literature, in 1967 soldiers invaded the home of Dom Waldyr Calheiros de Novaes,

38

The Church and the Army

the bishop of the important steel town of Volta Redonda. Bishops and clergy from
around Brazil voiced their indignation, which exacerbated tensions with the gener-
als. General José Horacio da Cunha Garcia’s bulletin to his troops described the
progressives as “bacteria” infecting Brazilian society. “Let us not forget that priests
have much more contact than we do with the people, especially poor people,” he
warned. “Even though they are Catholic, these individuals have betrayed the
Revolution. Today they are working for the opposition, not the one in Congress and
the press, but the one that wanted to Communize Brazil in 1964.”22

During the Médici years the security agencies focused intensively on the
Church. In Recife the authorities constantly harassed Dom Hélder for his progres-
sive statements. In 1969, his assistant Father Henrique Pereira Neto was murdered
by a right-wing group. Once decorated by the armed forces, Dom Hélder tried to
recover the medals he had given to friends because he needed them as a potential
passport to safety in case of imprisonment (Bandeira 1994281). In May 1970, he
denounced torture at a large public meeting in Paris. This and other pronounce-
ments led the infuriated generals to consider him a traitor. The government
unleashed a major smear campaign against Dom Hélder and schemed successfully
to deny him the Nobel Peace Prize. It then barred his name from the media. Many
moderates and even conservatives were affected by the repression. For instance, the
DOI-CODI in Belo Horizonte tortured to death a nephew of Dom Jaime suspected
of involvement in the kidnapping of the Swiss ambassador.”

The regime’s biggest triumph was the assassination of Carlos Marighella, the
founder of Agao Libertadora Nacional (ALN; National Liberating Action), the most
important of the urban guerrilla groups. Hundreds of people belonged to ALN, one
of the two groups that had abducted the U.S. ambassador. Led by the infamous tor-
turer Sérgio Paranhos Fleury, in November 1969 the S50 Paulo political police
ambushed and killed Marighella. To catch him, the police ﬁrst captured and tor-
tured Dominican friars who collaborated with the ALN. The government widely
publicized this affair to discredit the progressive clergy and to pressure the Church
against criticizing the regime. After a military trial the government imprisoned
three of the Dominicans.“ P

A partial Church tally between 1968 and 1978 documented more than a hundred
arrests of priests, seven deaths, and numerous cases of torture, expulsion of for-
eigners, invasion of buildings, threats, indictments, abductions, inﬁltration by gov-
ernment agents, censorship, prohibition of masses and meetings, and forgeries and
falsiﬁcations of documents and publications. Thirty bishops were victims of the
repression. Priests faced charges stemming from their sermons, antigovernment

39

The Church and the Army

protests, alleged membership in subversive organizations, the harboring of fugi-
tives, defense of human rights, grassroots pastoral work, and other activities.” In
addition, the Church suffered constant verbal attacks from regime oﬂicials ranging
from complaints about political activity to accusations of sexual immorality.
“Communist” was one of the most frequent adjectives.

Intelligence-gathering by the DOPS facilitated the repression. These state-level
political police were organized early in the century and played a major role in the
Estado Novo repression and the surveillance of Communists in the 1940s and
1950s. Early in the cold war, the DOPS already detected supposed Communist
inﬁltration in JOC and other religious organizations.” After 1964 they worked
closely with the military, federal, and local services. Organizations such as the DOI-
CODI were created because the DOPS were insufficient for handling guerrilla war-
fare (with the exception of Fleury’s brutal S50 Paulo department). The DOPS nev-
ertheless aided the repression. The DOPS-GB Information Division in Rio de
Janeiro, for instance, collected and shared information on subversion. It employed
sixty people just to manage and analyze its vast ﬁles. The DOPS-GB also legally con-
trolled the foreign travel of all citizens, ran security checks on candidates for impor-
tant government jobs, and provided individuals with certiﬁcates of a correct ideo-
logical record for prospective employers. During the Médici years, the DOPS-GB
issued as many as ﬁve thousand of these certiﬁcates per month. In addition, the
DOPS-GB had units for gathering evidence and arresting and interrogating sus-
pects, at times in collaboration with military agencies (Maurano interview .27

The DOPS-GB carried out extensive surveillance on the Church in the search for
the slightest hint of subversive activity. It seized personal papers, studied newspa-
pers and Church publications, worked to learn the content of Church meetings, lis-
tened to preachers, read parish ﬂyers, and tracked the movement of clergy and
bishops.” The DOPS-GB kept an extensive ﬁle on Dom Paulo Evaristo Arns, the
archbishop of S50 Paulo and Dom Hélder’s successor as Brazil’s most important
human rights leader. It noted, for instance, that Dom Paulo visited prisoners, spoke
to the press about torture, and maintained contacts with the left. “He is a new Dom
Hélder Camara who is trying to project himself,” one report stated.” A detailed
DOPS-GB proﬁle of Dom Hélder revealed the workings of the regime’s smear cam-
paign against him. Probably written with the help of Church insiders, it praised his
abilities but accused him of disloyalty to the Church and friends, the use of pover-
ty for political ends, and the misappropriation of Church funds. Dated in 1969, the
report appeared a year later in O Estado de Sdo Paulo, a daily newspaper that par-
ticipated in the attacks on the archbishop.” There were also ﬁles on bishops who

40

The Church and the Army

were seen as friends of the military such as Dom Eugenio de Araujo Sales, Dom
]aime’s successor as archbishop of Rio de Janeiro.31 The DOPS agents paid attention
to a wide variety of Church groups, themes, and activities, including Catholic
Action, alleged subversion in Catholic schools and seminaries, bishops’ meetings in
Rome, and publications that denounced the regime. DOPS-GB further noted that
priests and lay activists used their “cover” as Catholics to hide militants ﬂeeing from
the authorities. The Church’s international status allowed both native and foreign
fathers “to circulate freely throughout national territory, using their priestly vest-
ments as passports.”32 The CNBB was also closely watched.”

DOPS in Rio and elsewhere also collaborated with the infamous DOI-CODI
units. Both soldiers and police ofﬁcers ﬁlled the ranks of the DOI-CODI, which rou-
tinely used torture in its interrogations. The DOPS-GB Information Division
received DOI-CODI interrogation reports of an investigation into an international
opposition movement involving clergymen and other individuals linked to the
Church. At least one of the suspects was tortured.34

In mid-1971, DOPS-GB contemplated a full-blown national investigation of the
progressive Church, including its foreign contacts. The SNI had already requested
a nationwide investigation of ACB in 1966,35 and in 1969 a similar proposal came
from the First Army, which investigated “subversive activities in the Catholic
Church” in Minas Gerais and Rio de Ianeiro. The colonel in charge wanted the
Second, Third, and Fourth Armies to follow suit.35 The DOPS-GB agents recog-
nized, however, that the inevitable international repercussions of a national opera-
tion made it politically delicate. The decision, they stated, lay with President
Médici.37 The investigation did not take place, although in March 1974 President
Geisel requested an intelligence overview of the Church and subversion. It was pre-
pared by CISA (Costa 1979). And in 1977 Dom Ivo revealed that the security forces
were investigating Church ﬁnances and the ideological background of each bishop
and priest (“Lorscheiter, Ivo,” forthcoming). The Figueiredo administration also
investigated Church ﬁnances (Evilasio de Jesus interview). In reality, the already
widespread repression against the Church and the charges leveled against priests
and lay activists in military tribunals made a larger inquiry unnecessary during the
Médici years. Nevertheless, the Rio agents continued to supply Brazil’s intelligence
network with reports on the progressive clergy.

DOPS-GB analyses revealed that the profound suspicions about the Church
ﬂowed not only from anti-Communist extremism, but from a sense of betrayal con-
cerning the clergy’s abandonment of traditional Catholicism and, therefore, tradi-
tional Brazilian symbols and social structures. Like many military officers, conser-

41

The Church and the Army

vative civilians, and right-wing journalists, the police had difficulty comprehend-
ing—or outright rejected—the Church’s new emphasis on social justice and other
innovations. Church and state were drifting apart not only politically but also in
terms of their cosmologies, which they had shared for centuries (Serbin 1993b, ch.
8). For instance, in the 1960s many priests began wearing black wooden rings as a
sign of a simpler Church and a commitment to the poor. A military investigation of
Dom Waldyr accused him of not using the proper ring of gold and precious stones
and preferring to be called simply “father.”38 A DOPS-GB report noted that Father
Francisco Rocha Guimaraes “never wore a cassock.” Even worse, he had given a ser-
mon at the chapel of the Army’s Copacabana Fort “using words that affronted the
elite” and consumer society.”

Other reports demonstrated concern about post—Vatican II questioning of
religious structures and practices. “The climate of disobedience to the pope and
the teachings of the Church is the result of Communist inﬂuence and inﬁltra-
tion, which introduced Christians to a certain spirit of disrespect towards authori-
ty and hierarchy,” stated one. Another deﬁned innovative priests as “visibly
Communist, revolutionary, without hierarchical distinctions, hardly using tem-
ples.” They worked to raise the people’s consciousness and to create CEBs. A
1972 CIE evaluation concluded that Dom Paulo’s decision to allow a new version of
the mass at S50 Paulo’s traditional Consolacao church would make it look like a
“brothel.”4°

One perceptive DOPS-GB report attributed Church-regime conﬂict to the crisis
in Catholicism. It viewed the clergy’s oppositional politics as a conscious choice for
shoring up a ﬂagging institution. Brutally honest, the report also invited criticism
of the regime with respect to military strategy toward the Church. Before 1964,
priests had opposed Communists and even competed with them in the union
movement, it stated. Now, however, priests allied with Communism. “Could it be
that Communist propaganda is so efﬁcient that it was able to Communize the cler-
gy? Or have we been incapable of keeping on our side our most traditional and nat-
ural allies in the struggle against Communism?” For two decades the Church had
suffered a crisis of faith. “So the Vatican began to carry out a true war to stabilize
the faith and conquer new members. To do so it resorted to arms that only recent-
ly would have been inadmissable.” The Church changed the mass, clergymen’s
clothing, and its music in order to attract youths “in the same way that the mis-
sionary of the colonial period used the Tupi-Guarani language to catechize the
natives.” The military’s big mistake was its failure to emulate the clergy’s efforts to
move closer to the people. For instance, the regime had failed to explain immedi-

42

The Church and the Army

ately the need for repression; it too needed to “raise the consciousness” of the peo-
ple for its own political ends. “Hence there was the impression that the government
stood on one side and the people on the other,” allowing the Communists to score
a public relations victory and to attract the clergy to their cause. Without winning
over the people, repression would have no effect, the report concluded.“

The regime attempted to counteract the progressive Church in other ways. One

was to discredit radical priests. After the August 1970 arrest of ]OC Latin America
coordinator Father Agostinho Pretto, security agents smeared his reputation by
occupying his home in a Rio favela for several months. They claimed to be search-
ing for a clandestine radio unit used for contacting revolutionary leader Carlos
Lamarca, a hated Army deserter. They also planted arms in the home at night and
removed them in sight of favela residents during the day (Pretto interview).
Another stategy used against the Church was to give greater leeway to compet-
ing religions such as Umbanda and Protestant Pentecostalism, which had been
gaining adherents in the Army and the general population. Repressed during the
Estado Novo and combated by the Church in the 1950s, the nationalistic, syn-
cretistic Umbanda grew rapidly after World War II and by 1964 had drawn in 4 per-

  cent of the officer corps. During the regime its popularity increased. The military

not only allowed Umbanda to operate freely but recognized its holidays, counted its
members in the census, and moved its tens of thousands of religious centers from
police to civil jurisdiction. In the Amazon region, the Pentecostals received open
support from Jarbas Passarinho, a military governor and then Minister of Edu-
cation, while the Presbyterian Church throughout Brazil heavily supported the
regime.“

Some in the military tried to stir further animosity against the progressive cler-
gy by raising charges of sexual immorality. A number of bishops were characterized
as women Chasers (Soares, D’Araujo, and Castro 1995:zo4). To denigrate his image,
the intelligence services circulated pictures of Dom Ivo sitting with a woman in a
movie house. Others were accused of homosexuality, which was detested and root-
ed out in witch-hunt fashion within the armed forces (Octavio Costa interview 3).
Army intelligence, for example, noted that one monk who supported the opposi-
tion was rumored to be a pederast.43 In sum, the meanings of subversion varied
according to the speciﬁc objectives of repressive actions and also the background
and degree of sophistication of the security agents.

The Church countered the military with a three-pronged effort. First, the bish-
ops’ promotion of human rights and denunciations of regime atrocities stimulated
opposition and created a public relations disaster for the generals outside Brazil.

43

The Church and the Army

The bishops reacted in large part because of pressure from the clergy and the
Catholic grassroots. Second, the Church worked for social and ideological changes
that contested the military’s development strategy. These types of opposition were
mainly political. A third and little known aspect sought to build an active, though
entirely peaceful resistance movement. . V

Resistance took a number of forms. Progressive bishops, priests, and militants
schemed to avoid repression directed against themselves and others by developing
speciﬁc tactics for evading surveillance and aggression. Priests, bishops, and nuns
hid fugitive revolutionaries and other individuals sought by the security forces.
Some ﬂed the country with Church help. Father Pretto harbored refugees in the
Catholic schools where children of the elite studied. To mislead the police he placed
a sign at one school entrance reading “silence—retreat.”44 In Belo Horizonte, to
avoid interception of their mail, one group of priests used a social center for house-
maids as an address. Confessionals served as drops for messages about political
prisoners. One of these notes led Father Luiz Viegas de Carvalho to inform a soldier
that his guerrilla son was wounded. The priest then helped the son escape (Luiz
Viegas interview 2). While in prison Father Nathanael de Moraes Campos
informed his bishop about torture by way of messages placed in the bottom of a
thermos brought by a visiting relative.“ To avoid further torture, Father Mario
Prigol faked a circulatory illness and pretended innocence before interrogators’
questions (Prigol interview).

The Church built its own intelligence service. Priests received information from
contacts at all levels of society. The Church learned of the October 1970 jailing of
priests in Maranhﬁo from prostitutes who reported to the local curia how they had
heard soldiers bragging in a bordello about the torture of one of the men. On
another occasion, prostitutes fearful of being dismissed as unserious had friends of
Dom Hélder take them to the archbishop to warn him of an assassination plot.“
Members of the armed forces also helped the clergy avoid repression. For example,
in Recife Father Ernanne Pinheiro, a close assistant to Dom Hélder, met with
ofﬁcers at the local military base for study sessions on Populorum Progressio, Pope
Paul VI’s controversial 1968 statement on economic justice. One of the men was
married to Father Ernanne’s cousin. The ofﬁcers told the priest of their opposition
to torture and how they had saved some prisoners from abuse. One also helped
Father Ernanne avoid the expulsion of a Church worker from Brazil. Soldiers who
belonged to revolutionary organizations also informed the Church about political
prisoners (Ernanne Pinheiro interview). Dom Waldyr received safety tips from
General César Neves, a former parishioner (Dom Waldyr interview). Dom Paulo

44

The Church and the Army

obtained information from military sources by way of a priest who ministered to
ofﬁcers. Dom Paulo’s intelligence was so good he was able to confront command-
ers with lists of prisoners in the process of being tortured.”

The Church tuned into a large and creative network of informal communica-
tions that skirted censorship and other repressive measures. The Church in large
part built this network. Brazilian telecommunications were highly unreliable, and
television had only recently debuted as a form of mass communication. Thus, local
churches still served in their traditional role as sources of information. Members of
the clergy and CEBs acted as messengers with news about the bishops’ documents
and human rights.“ Bulletins and ﬂyers of a ﬂourishing underground press passed
from hand to hand among the faithful (Della Cava and Montero 199139-42,
216-19; Lopes 1994:133). Dom Paulo had news posted on the doors of Church build-
ings. As a security measure, however, clergy and militants avoided carrying written
material. Brazil and the Church had returned to an “oral civilization” (Luiz Viegas
interview 2).

A small group of progressive clergymen and activists worked to organize resis-
tance into an attempt to topple the regime. Alceu Amoroso Lima, modern Brazil’s
greatest Catholic intellectual, encouraged the bishops to pursue this objective (see
chapter 4). Although the Church succored the violent left and shared many of its
political and social objectives, this particular movement was strictly nonviolent.
During the Médici years, its members held a series of clandestine meetings in
which they discussed how to strengthen the Church's position and demoralize the
government. The members sought to account for political prisoners and missing
persons, to pressure public ofﬁcials about human rights abuses, and to provide
opposition politicians with concrete information about the repression.” The group
also established ties to Protestant pastors, labor leaders, and the grassroots move-
ments. The participants in this campaign followed strict security measures similar
to those used by the armed revolutionaries (Pretto interview). To support their
work, priests slipped into neighboring countries to pick up funds. One key under-
writer was Earl Smith, a retired, unsuspicious-looking North American Methodist
pastor based in Uruguay who obtained money from the United States. Dom Hélder
also donated funds received from foreign sources.5°

Another initiative took place in S50 Paulo. Every two weeks Dom Paulo con-
vened leading opposition intellectuals such as economist Paul Singer and sociolo-
gist Fernando Henrique Cardoso (president of Brazil, 1995—present) for the “grupo
dos loucos” (the crazy group). Undertaking the seemingly impossible task of dis-
cussing Brazil’s future during the heavy repression, the group sought strategies for

45

For my parents and for Regina

The Church and the Army

redemocratization and solutions to the country’s socioeconomic ills. The group
survived until 1976 (Luiz Viegas interview 2; Dom Paulo interview). Cooperation
between the Church and a research institute founded by Cardoso led to the publi-
cation in 1975 of a report demonstrating the deep inequalities of the military’s eco-
nomic model.“ These interrelated initiatives helped establish the Church’s leader-
ship during the abertura.  

Conduﬁon

After both 1889 and 1964, the Church and the armed forces entered into conﬂict
resulting from each one’s quest to shape the nation’s development through its own
institutional modernization. In both instances the military tried to exclude the
Church from the public sphere, but each time the clergy resisted by exerting polit-
ical inﬂuence. In the ﬁrst case the Church recovered its power and proceeded to
become a staunch ally of the armed forces in the struggle against Communism. The
post-1964 conﬂict was particularly surprising because of the rapidity and the pro-
fundity of the rift that opened between cross and sword after a period of close coop-
eration.

In the mid——twentieth century the Church and military had entered a marriage
of convenience founded more on cultural identity and anti-Communism than on
religious conviction. At base, the histories and outlooks of the two institutions were
very different. The military’s outward profession of Catholicism hid the fact that
neither institution really understood the internal life and motives of the other.
Church inﬂuence on the military was based on mutual admiration for hierarchy,
discipline, and tradition—not on a profound teaching of Christian values. The
Church was likewise unprepared to comprehend security matters beyond a reﬂex
action against Communism.

When the Church abandoned much of its tradition in a new but painﬁil attempt
to modernize, the military’s one-dimensional emphasis on security prevented the
oﬂicer corps from understanding the process of religious change. For the regime,
“subversion” could mean anything that threatened not only the regime’s political
foundations but also social, ecclesiastical, and moral traditions. Catholicism for the
military leadership was not an evolving idea, as Vatican II had made it, but an
unmovable anchor of patriotism and stability. The generals saw no contradiction
between national security ideology and Christian beliefs. DNS defended Western
Christian civilization and therefore reserved an important role for the Church. The
military reminded the clergy that in joining the ﬁght against Communism it was

46

The Church and the Army

battling the archenemy of Christianity. The national security state promised privi-
lege and prestige to the Church if it continued its traditional support for the status
quo. Alliance with the national security state was a tempting possibility (Comblin
1979, chs. 5, 6). But the armed services Viewed the clergy’s new engagement with the
people as a threat to the class structure and to the military’s own social and politi-
cal prominence. As their relationship deteriorated, the two sides found it increas-
ingly difﬁcult to see eye to eye on questions of social justice and subversion.

47

Chapter 3 The Making of CI Devout Golpisfa

48

   

he Brazilian generals’ defense of Western Christian civi-
lization is often attributed to geopolitical concerns with
little or no discussion of the religious background of the
armed forces. General Muricy’s biography exempliﬁes
Catholicism’s signiﬁcance for the military, helps explain
the genesis of Church-state conﬂict, and provides a more nuanced
view of religious-military strife. A soldier to the bone, Muricy was
also a devout man who displayed great loyalty to the Church. He
embodied a patriotism that sought material progress and interna-
tional political prominence for Brazil, but also the preservation of
the traditional religious and cultural values embedded in the coun-
try’s Catholic heritage. National security was a military matter, but
also a religious one. This chapter describes General Muricy’s martial
and religious evolution.

The story of how Brazil’s military and bishops clashed and con-
ciliated can be traced through General Muricy’s intimate contact
with the Church leadership in the 1960s. He was both friend and
enemy to bishops, particularly while he was in the Brazilian
Northeast, an impoverished, drought—stricken region that many
feared would explode in revolution as Cuba had done in 1958. In the
late 1950s and early 1960s it was also the heart of Catholic progres-
sivism. Muricy served there three times in the years just before and
after the coup. This experience provided him with an intimate
understanding of the Church’s changing outlook and its relationship
to security concerns. He also clamped down on the Catholic left,
which he believed had moved too close to Communism. Muricy ulti-
mately broke with his friend Dom Hélder Camara, Brazil’s leading
proponent of progressive Catholicism.

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

The Good Catholic Soldier

General Muricy was a deeply religious man. He represented a generation of sol-
diers that collaborated closely with the Church to defend the social order and
Brazil’s Catholic tradition. As a result, over the years Muricy cultivated numerous
contacts in the Church.

Muricy’s early religious formation was uneven and mixed. Brazilian women
more often than men have exercised religious inﬂuence in the private space of the
home, and such was the case for Muricy. His mother attended mass; his father,
despite growing up in a traditional Catholic environment, had become a Mason
and distanced himself from the Church. Further maternal religious reinforcement
came from the nuns who ran the ﬁrst school Muricy frequented as a toddler. He
later entered a Protestant school run by North Americans who used the Bible as a
basic classroom text. In general, though ecumenical dialogue was still more than
half a century away, the ethnic diversity of Muricy’s home state of Parana created a
climate of religious tolerance (Muricy 1993:6—8). Another possible inﬂuence came
from his older half-brother José Candido de Andrade Muricy, who studied in the
seminary at SE10 Paulo and then at the Colégio S50 Bento, a prestigious school for
the elite run by the Benedictine order in Rio de ]aneiro.1

Muricy deﬁnitively adopted Catholicism as an adult in the 1920s, when the
Church’s campaign for neo—Christendom was in full swing. He remained faithful to
the Church throughout his life. He practiced the conservative, Tridentine
Catholicism of the elite, regularly going to mass, confession, and Holy Communion
and maintaining close ties to the clergy.

In the 19303 Captain Muricy and his ﬁrst wife, Ondina Pires de Albuquerque da
Silva, struck up a friendship with Father Hélder Camara that would last for three
decades. A schoolteacher, Ondina had been a childhood acquaintance of Virginia
Cortes de Lacerda, one in a group of young laywomen who worked as aides to
Father Hélder? José Muricy also knew Father Hélder through membership in the
Centro Dom Vital, a conservative, dynamic, and inﬂuential Catholic think tank
founded in.Rio in the 1920s. Ondina became Father Hélder’s assistant when the
priest went to work in Rio’s municipal education department. Muricy and Father
Hélder rode the streetcar together to their respective jobs at the General Staff
College and the Catholic Ursuline college (Muricy 1993:137).

An example of the Muricys’ religious devotion was their scrupulous adherence
to the pre—Vatican 11 Catholic teaching that reserved sexual activity strictly to pro-
creation, not pleasure. When a difﬁcult ﬁrst pregnancy caused the couple to avoid

49

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

General Muricy (third from right) and Dona Virginia Ramos da Silva Muricy meet Pope Paul VI
(in white) at the Vatican, june 1972. Brazil ’s military leadership held the pontzﬁ‘ in deep reverence

for political reasons but also out of religious conviction.

further children, they stopped receiving Communion because they knew they were
going against the Church. Years later, when Ondina’s health deteriorated because
of a heart condition, she wanted to receive Communion. She explained the couple’s
predicament to Father Hélder. “Your case is just,” the priest told Ondina, absolving
her of her sins and allowing the Muricys to resume participation in the Eucharist.
As Ondina neared death in 1954 after seven years of illness, then Bishop Hélder
remained close to the family by serving as her personal confessor and paying fre-
quent visits to her bedside?’ Muricy’s second wife, Virginia, helped her husband
establish ties to the Church in her native Recife in the late 1950s and 1960s.
Muricy gave one of the clearest statements of his beliefs while commanding the
barracks at Cruz Alta, Rio Grande do Sul, in 1961. When the new bishop of the dio-
cese of the area, Dom Luiz Victor Sartori, made his ﬁrst pastoral visit to the town
during the May festival of its patroness Our Lady of Fatima, Muricy was chosen to
welcome him. New to the town and the bishop, Muricy introduced himself as a

50

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

“steadfast Catholic” who knew the “importance of an experienced spiritual guide”
in the ﬁgure of the bishop. He spoke of the deep bond between religious and mili-
tary life and their common Christian goals: “As paradoxical as it may appear, the
life of the priest and the soldier have much in common. . . . In the life of the priest,
as in the life of the soldier, we also have the great opportunity to come to know pro-
foundly our neighbor, to feel him, and, principally, to love him.” Muricy also spoke
against Communism. He asked the bishop to counsel Brazilians in a world in which
the “clash between the material and the spiritual becomes greater and greater.” Like
many Catholics, he Viewed the Church as a bulwark against Communism. Even the
Church recognized that Marx was a good economist, but he had erred by forgetting
that humans were “more spirit than material.” Marxist doctrine “depersonalized”
individuals and made them servants of the state. In Brazil, Communism had insid-
iously made its way into Catholic circles, “producing deviations that the Church
must avoid.” Some Catholics now thought it possible to “humanize Communism,
that is, to humanize what by deﬁnition cannot be humanized.” The Church pro-
vided the true way of life through the social teachings of the popes. The bishop was
a key ﬁgure for setting straight these “ex—Catholics.” But the Church in Brazil had a
big job ahead. Most Catholics did not practice their religion. Catechism had to be
not just a onetime event but a lifelong process. Active members of the Church need-
ed to learn how to comprehend the Brazilian people.4

This speech revealed a remarkable appreciation for the political, social, and reli-
gious strengths—and weaknesses—of Brazilian Catholicism. It also highlighted
the seriousness of the armed forces’ intellectual elite. Muricy’s anti-Communism
had profound roots in Catholicism. But his beliefs did not blind him to the Church’s
need to improve through innovation. He was not a knee-jerk anti-Communist, but
an individual who had carefully thought through his positions over a lifetime of
military and religious experience.

A Troupier Exposed to Politics

Muricy was a disciplined troupier who relished action and the chance to com-
mand (Farias 1994). He did not hesitate to make major decisions on the spot, usu-
ally speaking his mind before subordinates and superiors alike. Muricy displayed a
ruggedness and an uncanny survival instinct that allowed him to work effectively
throughout his career and to live into his nineties. At the age of forty-three in 1949,
for instance, Lieutenant Colonel Muricy felt pains in his chest and immediately sus-
pected a heart attack. His doctor conﬁrmed the self-diagnosis. Muricy recovered,

51

The Making of a Devouf Golpisfa

went on to become a general, and served twenty—one more years in the military
(Muricy 1993:2o3—o4). While serving as Army chief of staff, Muricy vowed with his
bodyguards to ﬁght to the death if, as intelligence sources were warning, guerrillas
tried to kidnap him.5

His stamina is even more remarkable in light of an incident that took place in
1979. Then seventy-three, Muricy was sleeping with his wife when four burglars
invaded their home in Santa Teresa, a historic hillside neighborhood in downtown
Rio de Janeiro. Reacting as a young soldier might during wartime, Muricy awoke
immediately and lunged at one of the intruders as he entered the bedroom.
Another of the prowlers shot Muricy, the bullet lodging near the heart. The gener-
al not only reached the emergency room alive but lived many more years with the
irremovable bullet in his chest.6

Recognized for his ﬁeld skills, Muricy led with patience and composure. He was
a student of people. His long experience as an instructor and personnel ofﬁcer
afforded him ample opportunity to observe individuals carefully. Together with his
postings in various regions of Brazil, these jobs made Muricy one of the best-known
ofﬁcers in the Army. He also showed deep concern for intellectual matters. He read
constantly, and in the 1950s he joined the elite ESG staff. This background led him
to show considerable restraint during crises and to calm the volatile tempers of
younger soldiers.

An early model of military involvement in politics came from his father’s expe-
rience. Lieutenant Colonel José Candido da Silva Muricy took part in the conspira-
cy that overthrew Emperor Dom Pedro II and installed the Republic in 1889.7 The
younger Muricy was not born until seventeen years later, but he grew up with the
legacy of his father’s involvement. In 1917, at the age of ten, he enrolled in military
prep school in Rio de Janeiro. In 1923 Muricy entered the Military Academy, from
which he graduated two years later as an Army artilleryman, which had also been
the elder Muricy’s service branch.8 Artillerymen saw themselves as an elite group
within the Army because of their scientiﬁc training in heavy arms (Castro 199o:12o,
134).

While in the academy, Muricy sympathized with the young ofﬁcers who revolt-
ed against the government in 1922. Like the terzentes, Muricy wanted to see Brazil
modernize politically and economically by ending the monopoly on power held by
the landed oligarchy. In the Revolution of 1930, Lieutenant Muricy identiﬁed with
the Vargas forces, though he had little choice but to obey the progovernment gen-
erals who controlled the Army in Rio de Janeiro.

During the decisive and divisive 1930s, Muricy avoided the extremes of Com-

52

The Making of a Devout Golpista

munism and Integralismo. He tended instead toward democracy and concentrated
on Army unity—a constant theme throughout his career. He quickly distanced
himself from the Communists, whose inroads into the armed forces threatened
unity. After the 1930 conﬂict and a revolt in Sao Paulo in 1932, men from opposing
sides immediately reconciled. However, after the 1935 Communist rebellion pro-
found ideological differences prevented a return to harmony. Muricy felt for the
ﬁrst time the hatred of conspirators toward victors. He later deﬁned this period as
the root of the tensions that led to the coup of 1964. The events of 1935 survived as
a powerful symbol of ideological struggle for Brazil’s armed forces, which annually
commemorated their victory over the Communists.

Muricy also declined to enter the Integralistas. He believed he already support-
ed their ideals as a soldier defending country, family, and religion. Moreover, he
saw a contradiction between democracy and the antiliberal current of Integralismo.
Yet Muricy was also not a complete proponent of democracy. He supported the
Estado Novo dictatorship because of its opposition to Communism. At any rate, he
viewed the Integralistas as less dangerous than the Communists and maintained

contact with them over the years. Among these early right—wing friends was .

Raimundo Padilha, who became a leader of the progovernment party after 1964
and whose son was Tarcisio Padilha, a founder of the Bipartite.

The ESG: Defining Security and Breeding ”Po|itica|” Officers

During World War 11, Major Muricy established ties with the group of officers
who would deﬁne and implement the DNS in the 1950s and 1960s. While teaching
at the General Staff College, Muricy met Captain Golbery do Couto e Silva, the
emerging master of Brazilian security policy. In 1944 Muricy, Golbery, and numer-
ous other ofﬁcers traveled to the United States for a training course at the U.S.
Army Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. There
they prepared for battle in the FEB. Muricy did not go to the front. Instead, his
orders took him back to the Brazilian General Staff College, where he worked inten-
sively to prepare other men for war (Muricy 19932132, 173-83, 193). During this peri-
od Muricy also worked closely with FEB leader and future golpista Castello Branco.

After the war, Muricy was promoted to lieutenant colonel and worked as head
of personnel on the staff of War Minister Canrobert Pereira da Costa, an outspoken
anti-Communist who aspired to succeed General Eurico Gaspar Dutra as president
of Brazil in 1950. As War Minister during the Estado Novo, Dutra had participated
in the deposition of Vargas following the opposition’s cries for redemocratization

53

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

in 1945. When Vargas was electedagain in 1950, however, General Canrobert pro-
tected Muricy from political reprisal by sending him off to the ESG to take its
course in national security. Muricy simultaneously received an appointment to the
school’s permanent staff. In 1952 he was made a lull colonel.

Muricy stood in the thick of the ESG’s intense intellectual life as a teacher,
thinker, and organizer. From 1951 to 1953, he and the other staff members worked
feverishly to move the DNS from its embryonic state to a full-blown, systematic cor-
pus of ideas for guiding Brazil’s future. Muricy coordinated the school’s work meth-
ods, often relying on his experience at Leavenworth and his readings of the North
American educational philosopher John Dewey. He moderated the frequent
debates between ofﬁcers arguing over competing concepts of security. Muricy’s
particular area of expertise became Communist revolutionary warfare. The bibli-
ography on this subject was nonexistent in Brazil, leading the colonel to spend long
nights reading sources in English. Over time he accumulated documentation mea-
suring six meters on the shelves (Muricy 19932229, 234-35, 242-43, 247, 255-56).

About this time the ESG became a nest of political machination against Vargas
and then Kubitschek. In 1954, for instance, Muricy and other ESG ofﬁcials en-
dorsed an anti-Vargas memorandum that complained of political corruption, gov-
ernment neglect of the Army’s needs, and the dangers of leftist inﬁltration in the
military. Muricy’s position marked him as a “political” ofﬁcer in some Army circles.
One fellow ofﬁcer called him a golpista, a coup-plotter (Muricy 1993:296—98).
Although Muricy abhorred politics as being divisive for the military, the facts vali-
dated his colleagues’ fears. In 1955 he and other ESG ofﬁcials joined the conspiracy
to block the inauguration of president-elect Kubitschek and vice president-elect
Goulart. 5

Muricy’s political activities in the 1950s kept him from promotion to general
during the Kubitschek years and led to an informal but golden exile as head of the
Brazilian Military Commission at the Brazilian embassy in Washington, D.C., from
1956 to 1958. Although this bureaucratic job sidetracked Muricy’s military career, it
brought him an excellent salary—approximately $24,000 per year—payable in
U.S. currency.9 The respite in the United States capital further helped the middle-
aged colonel put his personal life inorder after a period of depression following the
death of his wife Ondina in 1954. While in Washington he married Virginia Ramos
da Silva, an ESG librarian.

54

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

Plotting and Leading the Coup

At the end of the Kubitschek administration, Muricy was ﬁnally promoted to
general and sent to Rio Grande do Sul—the home state of Vargas, Vice President
Goulart, and the vitriolic populist Leonel Brizola, who was the state’s governor
from 1959 to 1962. Brothers-in-law Goulart and Brizola led Vargas’s Partido
Trabalhista Brasileiro (Brazilian Labor Party) until the coup forced them into exile.
Brazil’s system of ticket-splitting elections allowed Goulart to be reelected to the
vice presidency in 1960, while Quadros, of the opposition Uniﬁo Democrética
Nacional (UDN; National Democratic Union) became president. Muricy personal-
ly received orders from Army Minister Odylio Denys to keep pro—Brizola forces in
check. The charismatic populist was carrying Rio Grande do Sul politics to the left
by expropriating foreign companies and carrying out other radical measures.
Muricy’s job included ridding the Army of Communist inﬁltrators and ﬁghting
Brizola’s military allies should they revolt against the central government. One of
Muricy’s tasks was to stop a transit strike supported by Brizola (Muricy 1993:
360-70).

When Quadros unexpectedly resigned in August 1961 after less than seven
months in ofﬁce, Muricy sided with the Army faction outside Rio Grande do Sul
that wanted to block Goulart’s succession to the presidency. Vargas’s men had
power again, angering the conservative military and stirring fears of Communism.
Brizola armed the populace and threatened to ﬁght, persuading Rio Grande do
Sul’s Army contingent to support Goulart. Muricy broke with his commanding
general, ﬂed the state with his family, and prepared to ﬁght as Brazil came to the
brink of civil war. In the end, however, calmer heads prevailed, and Goulart was
allowed to assume the presidency under a compromise instituting a parliamentary
system of government that reduced the powers of the chief executive (Muricy
1993:36o—7o). Dom Vicente Scherer, the cardinal-archbishop of Porto Alegre,
thanked Muricy for helping to “convince the authorities and the people of the seri-
ousness of the Communist danger.”1°

Stationed in the Northeast, in 1963 Muricy became embroiled in an incident
with Brizola, now a congressman, that gained national attention. Both men were in
Natal as Muricy dined with United States ambassador Lincoln Gordon and other
dignitaries. Speaking on a national radio broadcast, Brizola called Muricy a “goril-
la” and a golpista for his actions in 1961. Muricy had to restrain the many angry
ofﬁcers who wanted to punish the congressman. He then delivered speeches warn-
ing of the advance of leftist subversion.”

55

Where does social justice end and subversion begin?
— Dom Avelar Branddo Vilela, primate of Brazil

The Making of 1: Devon! Golpisfa

The golpista General Muricy (third from left) in command of the Destacamento T iradentes,
which swept into Rio defaneiro the morning ofApril1, 1964, putting an end to the government of
President Jodo Goulart. To the far left is Walter Pires de Carvalho e Alhuquerque,ﬁ1ture Minister
of the Army under President Figueiredo.

As an early conspirator against Goulart, Muricy used his large network of con-
tacts to work for military unity during the coup. He sounded out other officers with
respect to a takeover and served as a liaison between Army conspirators and
Golbery, who retired when Goulart became president. He also reported to Castello
Branco that Goulart was planning his own coup (Dulles 1978:314—15). On March 13,
1964 Goulart held a large rally in downtown Rio that convened Brizola, radical
Pernambuco Governor Miguel Arraes, and an array of left—wing, union, and grass-
roots groups who supported Goulart’s call for basic reforms in Brazilian society.
The demonstration ﬁrmed the conspirators’ resolve to act and convinced many
undecided officers to join them. Hinting at a later hard—line reaction against the left,
a group of lower-echelon ofﬁcers wanted to disrupt the rally by starting a ﬁre.
Muricy put a stop to their plans. Later, Muricy used his prestige to keep peace

56

The Making of cl Devout Golpista

between factions headed by General Castello Branco and General Artur da Costa e
Silva, allies against Goulart but rivals for the presidency. Costa e Silva became
Castello Branco’s Army Minister.”

Muricy was the only general who actually led troops into action during the
bloodless coup of March 31, 1964. Leaving his post in Rio de Janeiro, he rushed to
Minas Gerais to take charge of the Destacamento Tiradentes, a detachment named
for the executed national hero who opposed Portuguese rule during the colonial era.
Muricy led his troops on a march from the hills of Minas down onto the lowlands
of Rio on the morning of April 1. In his characteristic manner, Muricy blustered loy-
alist soldiers into joining his column.“ His military support disintegrating, Goulart
ﬂed Rio to Brasilia and then quickly left the country by way of Rio Grande do Sul. A
new era in Brazilian history had begun, and Muricy stood among its leaders.

Stopping Subversion and Torture in the Northeast

Muricy had been stationed in the Northeast for two years following his return
from Washington in 1958. He commanded the reserve ofﬁcers training program in
Recife, his second wife’s hometown. Virginia had attended an exclusive Catholic
school in Recife and headed a young women’s Catholic Action group before the rad-
icalization of the late 1950s. The Muricys mixed with Recife’s active lay elite,
became friends with priests, and frequented discussion circles for Catholic couples.
These groups often examined the crying social issues of the Northeast. To prepare
for these discussions Muricy studied the Church’s social doctrine. On several occa-
sions the circles heard pedagogue Paulo Freire, whose grassroots literacy method
profoundly inﬂuenced progressive Catholicism. At times Freire and the conserva-
tive general debated their different approaches.“ In the Northeast the general also
met Dom Avelar Brandao Vilela, the bishop of Teresina and future Bipartite mem-
ber, and Dom José Tévora, the progressive bishop of Aracaju and former collabora-
tor of Dom Hélder in Rio.

The Northeast—and Recife in particular—vibrated with radical politics and
religion. In the countryside Francisco Juliﬁo organized the Ligas Camponesas
(Peasant Leagues) to ﬁght the centuries’ old monopoly of the large landowners.
Scenting Communism, priests competed with the leagues by organizing more
moderate unions. In 1962 Arraes, the radical populist mayor of Recife, became the
leader of the left in the Northeast after winning the governorship of the state of
Pernambuco. A defender of the poor, Arraes had Freire set up a statewide literacy
program. Through Freire’s conscientizagcio, or consciousness-raising, Arraes and

57

The Making of a Devout Golpista

other leftists hoped to enfranchise the mass of illiterates prohibited by law from
voting. Freire’s endeavor exempliﬁed how Brazilian Catholics radicalized as they
became disillusioned with the nationalist developmentalism of the 1950s (Callado
1964). Poverty and political agitation in the Northeast led the U.S. government to
attempt to control events in the region in the hopes of avoiding another, even larg-
er Cuba. I

General Muricy worked to educate fellow soldiers and the populace about the
dangers of Communist revolutionary warfare. In the early 1960s most Brazilians,
officers included, had no notion of this concept.” First outlined by Lenin in 1917
and reﬁned by other Communist leaders, the theory of revolutionary warfare pro-
posed the seizure of power through propaganda, inﬁltration, and guerrilla action.
In a private speech to ofﬁcers after the Brizola incident in May 1963, Muricy
declared that “revolutionary warfare is already spreading through Brazil” and had
to be combated. “The struggle against revolutionary warfare is the duty of the mil-
itary as well as [of the] civilians,” Muricy stated. He urged political and social
reforms to eliminate the “internal contradictions” that allowed Communists to act.
The people, especially political leaders and the press, needed to cooperate with the
armed forces. Muricy provided an eerily accurate scenario for the Brazil of the late
1960s: “The moment in which the armed struggle begins, or when it is imminent, a
new situation appears. A state of siege is imposed and the entire military machine,
with the support of the civilian population, must act with energy. It is necessary to
impose limitations on individual rights.”15 Muricy kept the Brizola controversy
alive by repeating the speech in public. He also sent a copy to Dom Carlos Coelho,
the archbishop of Recife, and Dom Luiz Sartori, the bishop of Santa Maria.

Muricy soon took measures against subversion. A new posting took him to
Natal, the capital of the state of Rio Grande do Norte, in early 1963. From there he
traveled frequently to nearby Recife, where the political storm was worsening.
Muricy admitted the need for social change in the region. This sentiment led him
ﬁrst to try persuasion with radicals rather than heavy-handed measures. He
admonished his Catholic friends, who were shifting from theoretical discussion to
political action, to beware of allying with the Communists. In private meetings he
advised Freire and Germano de Vasconcellos Coelho to keep Catholics in control of
the Popular Culture Movement in Recife, where Communists were increasingly
active in the program." At the request of Dom Carlos, the general and his wife tried
to convince Father Almery Bezerra to stop writing radical newspaper articles.
Bezerra had a strong following among Catholic students and went into exile imme-
diately after the coup. When Peasant League leader Joel Camara invaded a private

58

The Making of a Devouf Golpisfa

ranch, Muricy brought the student in for a face—to-face meeting. On another occa-
sion Muricy argued with Dom José Lamartine Soares, the auxiliary bishop of
Recife, over the archdiocese’s broadcast of a Communist rally in support of Arraes.
“I am not a bishop, and you are,” Muricy told Dom Lamartine. “But I have the
impression that my Catholicism is better than yours, because I think that if the
Church does not support Communism it should not be helping to install
Communism” (Muricy 1993:588). But Muricy also resorted to harsher tactics. His
men seized a controversial booklet written by acquaintances of the general for
Arraes’s city literacy program. Muricy also organized a group of students to count-
er leftist grafﬁti by scribbling their own slogans on walls in the early morning hours
(Muricy 1993:42o—28).

Muricy encountered less agitation in Natal, partly because of the ﬁrm anti-
Communism of Dom Eugénio Sales, the archdiocese’s apostolic administrator. In
1949 Father Sales had created the Servigo de Assisténcia Rural (SAR; Rural
Assistance Service). SAR’s roots lay in the clergy’s attempt to alleviate the negative
impact of the large inﬂux of U.S. troops during the war, when Natal was a major
link to the African theater. The priests soon realized that rural social inequalities
fed urban blight. SAR battled poverty by teaching better farming techniques and
providing drought relief. Moreover, as Natal’s auxiliary bishop after 1954, Dom
Eugenio exposed the so-called drought industry that was sapping relief funds from
the poor. This action made him enemies among the corrupt politicians. In 1961,
SAR started Brazil’s ﬁrst radio schools and the ﬁrst Catholic rural unions, which
grew to ﬁfty thousand members at SAR’s apogee in 1963. SAR’s programs served as
models for the MEB and the Pernambuco clergy’s anti-Juliao unions. Given the his-
tory of conservatism in the Northeast, SAR was quite progressive and drew inter-
national attention (Camargo 1971). After the coup Dom Eugenio was tabbed a
Communist, a charge he was able to avoid with the help of General Muricy (Dom
Eugenio interview).18

Indeed, Muricy later observed that he saw little difference in the methods of the
SAR unions and ]uli5o’s Peasant Leagues. Nevertheless, SAR was a centrist, point-
edly anti-Communist program. For this, General Muricy greatly admired Dom
Eugenio. He also supported Dom Eugénio’s efforts to stop Communist inﬁltration
of Catholic student groups. As a result, the two men established enduring ties. In
addition, SAR member Father Nivaldo Monte (later archbishop of Natal) became
confessor and friend to the Muricys (Muricy 1993:422, 437-440).

In September 1963, Muricy was transferred to Rio de Janeiro, where he con-
spired against Goulart, but shortly after the coup he returned to the Northeast. The

59

The Making of a Devout Golpisfa

Northeast bore the brunt of the postcoup repression. As one observer noted, Recife
became a “city covered by a hood of fear. ” Headless bodies of peasant leaders lay on
the road from Recife to Joao Pessoa, and others were burned in furnaces.
Subversives were rounded up and tortured.” Muricy helped crush the left by dis-
mantling radical organizations such as the Peasant Leagues and threatening mili-
tant students and clergy with reprisals.2° The drive against subversion eventually
exploded into conﬂict with the Church. Virginia Muricy was now considered a spy
sent to inﬁltrate Catholic Action (Virginia Ramos da Silva Muricy interview), and
the general was shocked to learn that his Catholic acquaintances now opposed the
Revolution. He extricated one couple from jail (Muricy 1993: 551), but he also
ordered the arrest of Father Paulo Meneses, a JOC militant linked to Father Bezerra.
Meneses was set free by request of Dom Hélder and then went into exile in
Portugal.”

Yet Muricy did not participate in the postcoup atrocities. On the contrary, his
primary mission was to stop them. President CastelloBranco was embarrassed by
the “excesses” in the Northeast. He called on his trusted colleague, General Muricy,
to carry out the delicate, highly unusual, and practically secret mission of curbing

T Army mistreatment of the opposition. Muricy carried out this task while serving

under Fourth Army commander General Joaquim Justino Alves Bastos. Muricy
used his prestige in the region to curtail the abuses.” He and his wife personally
obtained the release of some one hundred political prisoners. Dom Hélder sent the
families of a number of detainees to the general’s residence to seek help.” The
abuses further prompted an ofﬁcial investigation by General Ernesto Geisel, the
chief of the presidential military staff. Muricy escorted his friend and superior
through the prisons to show that conditions had improved, though journalist
Marcio Moreira Alves described the visit as a whitewash for the regime.“

Muricy’s actions made him an important and widely known ﬁgure in the region.
In 1966 he made a bid for the governorship of Pernambuco with the support of
local military ofﬁcers and the Catholic right.25 Muricy and other generals hoped to
use their military status to forward personal political ambitions. Castello Branco,
however, opposed military participation in local elections and cut short Muricy’s
candidacy (Dulles 198o:328—33). This was one of the lowest points of Muricy’s
career.

It was during this last stint in the Northeast that Muricy severed ties with Dom
Hélder. In the early 1960s, Dom Hélder’s prestige among the Brazilian elite crum-
bled as he criticized capitalism in the midst of nationalist developmentalism’s fail-
ure to sustain the economy and resolve social problems. Archconservatives labeled

6o

The Making of a Devout Golpista

General Muricy (center) counted among his friends the top military leaders of his day, including
General Humberto de Alcenar Castello Branco, the ﬁrst president of the military regime (to
Muricy’s left). In white is Admiral Clovis de Oliveira.

Dom Hélder a Communist. Shortly after the coup, troops invaded his quarters in
search of deposed Governor Arraes’s sister, to whom Dom Hélder had given refuge
(Page 1972:214—15).2“

Army ofﬁcers in Recife wanted to break with the archbishop, but Muricy held
them at bay and maintained cordial relations with his friend. The two worked to
avoid Church-military conﬂict. But Muricy also began to differ with Dom Hélder
over the arrest of Catholic militants and some of the bishop’s public statements
(Piletti and Praxedes 1997327).

In 1966 their friendship came to an abrupt halt. On March 31, 1966, the second
anniversary of the coup, the two men clashed. The military leadership, including
Muricy, pressured Dom Hélder to offer a thanksgiving mass for the troops.

61

The Maldng of (1 Devon! Golpisfa

General Muricy broke thirty years of friendship with Dom Hélder Camara because of the contro-
versial bishop ’s reﬁisal to sanctzﬁr the military regime.

However, Dom Hélder’s friends and followers persuaded him against holding the
mass. As a question of conscience the archbishop formally refused the invitation;
he considered the event to be related to the gubernatorial campaign and therefore
mainly political, not religious. (Pope Paul VI supported this decision.) Muricy was
stunned. By sheer coincidence, a bomb planted by leftists exploded outside the
home of Fourth Army commander General Setubal Portugal, whom Muricy had
gone to meet. Another went off at a post office. In all there were nine explosions in
Recife on March 31. In a scheduled television appearance to commemorate the
Revolution General Muricy denounced what were the ﬁrst terrorist attacks against
the regime. He ﬁnished by criticizing Dom Hélder’s refusal to celebrate mass.
Although Dom Hélder had nothing to do with the explosions, Muricy had linked
terrorism with the archbishop’s moral protest.”

62

The Making of a Devouf Golpista

Tensions between Dom Hélder and the military worsened in the following
months. With the approval of General Portugal the commander of the Tenth
Regiao Militar in Fortaleza, General Itiberé Gouveia do Amaral, circulated a pam-
phlet attacking Dom Hélder, The incident created a political crisis for Castello
Branco. General Muricy arranged a meeting between the president and the arch-
bishop that temporarily reduced tensions (Dulles 198o:298). After unsuccessfully
lobbying the Vatican to have the archbishop removed to Rome, the president
replaced General Portugal with an officer friendly to Dom Hélder, General Rafael
de Souza Aguiar (Piletti and Praxedes 1997:34o—41; Schneider 1971:235—36).

The falling out with Dom Hélder was one reason for Castello Branco’s decision
to make Muricy a four-star general in late 1966 and thus remove him from Recife to
Rio (Piletti and Praxedes 1997:34o—41). The president passed over a number of
other generals considered more eligible for promotion and named Muricy chief of
Army personnel. General Muricy now stood in the uppermost echelon of the
armed forces and was poised to take part in events of national importance.”

53

Chapter 4 Prelude to the Bipartife

64

 

Dialogue, Torture, and Diplomacy, 1968-1970

neral Muricy steadily rose in the military govern-
ment. Although a Castellista, he also had ties to
General Costa e Silva, who became Brazil’s second
military president in March 1967. Muricy had
served under Costa e Silva in the Fourth Army in
1962, and the two collaborated against Goulart. This connection and
Muricy’s wide contacts in the Army were helpful. In April 1969, Costa

- e Silva elevated Muricy to Army chief of staff, one of the top positions

in Brazil’s armed forces. Muricy commanded all other generals,
tapped into a broad network of military intelligence, and even over-
shadowed General Aurélio de Lyra Tavares, the Minister of the
Army} Though not a hard-liner, Muricy clearly supported vigorous
action against the revolutionary left2 and believed that to suppress
subversion democracy should be restricted?’

The crisis of Costa e Silva’s rule gave Muricy a chance at the pres-
idency. When the president was forced from ofﬁce by a stroke in
August 1969, Muricy and other members of the high command of
the armed forces denied the right of succession to the civilian vice
president, Pedro Aleixo, who had argued against the harsh AI-5. The
Ministers of the Army, Navy, and Air Force formed a temporary
junta. When Costa e Silva failed to improve, Muricy and other top
officers chose another president. In the internal military election,
Muricy ﬁnished third behind Médici and General Orlando Geisel.
Muricy personally informed Costa e Silva of the results. Médici kept
Muricy as Army chief of staff until November 1970, when he
assumed control of the Bipartite.

By this time torture had become a major political issue and the

Prelude to the Bipartife

General Muricy (center) and PresidentArtur da Costa e Silva (glass in hand), Brasilia, August

1967, at a meeting of the Army high command. Muricy belonged to the inner military circle that
governed Brazil after 1964 and was a candidate for president after Costa e Silva’s stroke in 1969.

object of intense diplomatic maneuvering in Rome. Faced with increased aggres-
sion against the clergy, in 1968 and early 1969 the CNBB began to take a critical
stance toward the state, denouncing AI-5, human rights violations, and the inequal-
ity produced by the regime’s economic policies. A chilling in relations——though
never a break—took place between the Vatican and the Brazilian government.
General Muricy and Dom Eugenio were central ﬁgures in the attempt to pull
Brazil out of the moral and political morass of violence and ideological conﬂict.
Anti-Communism sealed their friendship, but the repression troubled it. Focusing
on the Muricy-Sales dialogue, this chapter reveals how Dom Eugenio worked with

  Muricy to improve Brazil’s image, but also how frank a critic he became of the

regime’s arbitrariness. The chapter also studies internal Church debate about how
best to denounce torture. These dialogues were both background and basis for the
Bipartite.

65

10.

11.

Contents

Preface ix
Glossary xiii

Timeline xix

. Introduction 1

. The Church and the Army: Modernization

and the Dual Revolution 22

. The Making of a Devout Golpista 48
. Prelude to the Bipartite: Dialogue, Torture,

and Diplomacy, 1968-1970 64

. Dialogue in the Shadows: The Creation and

Function of the Bipartite 83

. Social Justice or Subversion? 114
. The Cotton Between the Crystals 135
. The Struggle Against Human Rights Abuses

and Censorship 164

. Death in Barra Mansa: The Admission and

Punishment of Torture 186

Anatomy of a Death: The Case of
Alexandre Vannucchi Leme 200

Conclusion 219

Notes 235
References 275

Index 295

Prelude to the Bipartite

Hard-line Repression and the Muricy-Soles Dialogue

In public Dom Eugenio contrasted with his CNBB colleagues by taking a more
discrete stance toward the regime. He preferred to deal through private channels in
order to avoid antagonizing the government and therefore losing his ability to
resolve conﬂict and seek redress’ for Church grievances.4 Discretion and dialogue
were policies also adopted by Dom Hélder for dealing with the repression during
the early years of the regime (Piletti and Praxedes 19972329). A patriot who believed
in maintaining stable Church—military relations, Dom Eugenio had gained the
respect of the armed services for his anti-Communism, but also for his circum-
spection and emphasis on obedience to authority. Since their days together in
Natal, General Muricy had tracked Dom Eugénio’s rising star. In late 1966, he invit-
ed Dom Eugenio to study at the ESG, a “dream” the bishop had to decline because
of his duties as apostolic administrator of the archdiocese of Salvador.5 Dom
Eugenio suggested Father Afonso Gregory as a participant, and the future bishop
enrolled in the program.

Yet Dom Eugénio was no supporter of the regime. Although anti-Communist,
he did not stand with the right-wing traditionalist sector of Brazilian Catholicism
that applauded the coup. Dom Eugenio was committed to reforming Brazilian soci-
ety. He helped set the foundation for progressive Catholicism in Brazil, although he
eschewed its radical elements and relied less on the grass roots and more on the
upper and middle classes in working for social change.5 Moreover, as apostolic
administrator of Natal in 1964, he was one of the few bishops in a state capital to
prohibit a public religious celebration of the Revolution. After the coup, he stated
that his position was one of “neutrality and expectation.” Yet Dom Eugenio was
perturbed by the attacks on priests and the lack of respect for human rights. For
example, in April 1964 he and Dom Hélder met privately with President Castello
Branco to complain about the violence of the repression against the left.7

By the time of AI-5, Dom Eugenio had become a national ﬁgure. Pope Paul VI
had named him archbishop of Salvador, Bahia, and primate of Brazil. In April 1969
(the same month Muricy became Army chief of staff), the pope made Dom Eugenio
a cardinal. He thus became one of the most powerful men in the history of the
Brazilian Church. The responsibility was enormous. His constituency was no longer
a small diocese in the Northeast (Natal), but Bahia, the historical seat of Catholicism
in Brazil. And because he was a cardinal, his inﬂuence extended to national and
international issues. He carried the burden of power—which meant dealing with

66

Prelude to the Bipartite

Dom Eugenio cle
Arazijo Sales
(left) and Dom
Avelar Brandao
Vilela waiting for
a ﬂight to Rome
from the Galeao
International
Airport, Rio de
janeiro, 1969.
Transatlantic
diplomacy
became crucial in
maintaining the
delicate relation-
ships among gen-

erals, bishops,

and the Vatican.

the dictators and playing the role of politician and diplomat. As a frequent visitor to
the pope, he spoke not only for the Church, but also for Brazil.

Although he had close contact with individuals in the government, Dom
Eugénio continued to maintain a certain distance from the regime. Two months
before AI-5, for instance, Cardinal Agnelo Rossi, Dom Paulo’s predecessor as arch-
bishop of Sao Paulo, publicly refused to accept a medal from the government, pro-
voking an angry response in hard—line military circlesf‘ Following suit, Dom Eugenio
refused the same award and practically humiliated the general who had offered it.
As one of his reasons the archbishop cited worsening Church—state relations. Dom
Eugenio also personally admonished President Costa e Silva against the use of cas-
saccio (suspension of an individual’s political rights), which was frequently applied
by the regime against its enemies.9 After the promulgation of AI-5, Dom Eugenio

57

Prelude to the Bipartite

denied a request from the military to say mass in celebration of the new order
(Gaspari 1997b).

In his private communications, Dom Eugenio criticized the generals. On
Christmas Day 1968, weeks before the CNBB’s public protest, he composed a criti-
cal letter about AI-5 to General Muricy. Dom Eugenio began by stating his desire
for a long, personal conversation, “as is our custom.” Unable to leave Salvador,
however, he asked Antonio Carlos Magalhaes, the mayor of Salvador and soon one
of Brazil’s most powerful politicians, to deliver the conﬁdential missive during a
trip to Rio. The tone of the letter echoed their long friendship, but it also expressed
the concerns of a pastor toward a fellow Christian as Brazilian society was torn
asunder.” “I have been profoundly preoccupied with the direction of the country,
before the last act and after,” Dom Eugenio wrote. Relations between the Church
and the government were “dark,” even after Dom Eugénio’s two meetings with the

pope and the CNBB’s creation of a commission to seek dialogue. The Church-state I

relationship had become sensitive because of “problems of conceptualization, for
example: what is subversion? What is conscientizagdo? Do we or do we not have the
duty to denounce injustices?” The government could at least promote “authentic
reforms” in the civilian sphere, the only way “to reconcile the Revolution with the
people,” Dom Eugénio stated, adding that the government’s agrarian reform pro-
gram had degenerated into just “one more task force.”

Finally, Dom Eugenio revealed his keen concern about the effects of AI-5. “It is a
grave matter when one man has to depend on the will of another without appeal,”
the archbishop wrote. “If everybody were like you, I could temporarily remain
calm. The reality, however, is different, and there is no deadline for returning to
normality. How can this situation be resolved? I don’t see how,” Dom Eugenio
wrote. He urged Muricy to prevent the regime from using AI-5 to alter the Supreme
Court, which had shown itself to be uncooperative with the military by releasing
student prisoners just before the act was declared. (His plea went in vain: the next
month the government removed three members of the body and cut its powers.)
“Muricy, write me, tell me something so that I can see things more clearly,” Dom
Eugénio closed. “There is much suffering.”

General Muricy replied on December 27.” “We are not interested in pursuing
adversaries but in building a better Brazil, principally for the least advantaged,” he
wrote. “We continue as Christians and humans and lift up our prayers to God so
that He might help us not to err.’-’ He then gave a detailed justiﬁcation of AI-5. First
of all, in an extraordinary admission, Muricy stated that the government’s own fail-
ure to implement reforms had allowed the opposition to exploit the political situa-

68

Prelude to the Bipdffife

tion. But the general quickly shifted blame to the opposition. He supported sup-
pression of subversive movements, “now better structured and acting particularly
on the minds of people, whether youths in the schools or adults in various areas,
including the Church.”

The government had tried to work for democracy and had even studied the pos-
sibility of an amnesty for political prisoners and a return to direct elections. But in
the antimilitary speech that had prompted the declaration of AI-5, congressman
Marcio Moreira Alves had threatened a key basis of the regime: all Brazilians’ legal
responsibility to protect national security. “From that moment we were certain that
all of our work since 1964 would be lost if we did not make a drastic decision,”
Muricy wrote. “Although unwillingly, we acted. We acted to save a weak Brazilian
democracy, although, paradoxically, the government had to arm itself with extraor-
dinary powers.” The general added that, after examining his conscience, he had no
regrets. “The remedy was bitter, but it was necessary.”

Muricy proceeded to assess Church-state relations. “The Church and the armed
forces are the basic pillars on which democracy in Brazil sits,” Muricy wrote,
adding, however, that the archbishop was well aware of ongoing “attempts to
involve the Church in conﬂict.” The Catholic left worried the regime “tremendous—
ly.” Priests involved with students and workers penned documents so subversive
that they made Miguel Arraes’s precoup literacy pamphlet sound like “the work of
beginners.” The fathers preached violence, Marxism, and socialism as solutions to
Brazil’s problems. According to the general, one clergyman declared that “the
Church will have to move towards a Communo—Christian accord just as an
Aristotelian-Thomistic accord was once made.” Another text titled “A History of
the Brazilian Proletariat” advocated struggle against the government. The govern-
ment showed the subversive documents to the cardinals of Rio and Sao Paulo, and
Muricy further raised the matter with Dom Aloisio and Dom Avelar.

The general proposed to Dom Eugénio that they try to end this “calamitous sit-
uation. . . . From what I have personally seen, I can imagine your anguish and, even
more so, that of the pope. It is my judgment, however, that this question must be
resolved principally by the Church itself. It is the most affected.”

After this exchange Muricy continued his dialogue with Dom Eugenio in a
mutual effort to reduce Church-state conﬂict. Even as the two men congratulated
each other on their respective promotions to Army chief of staff and cardinal, how-
ever, the repression drove cross and sword further apart. On April 7, 1969, Dom
Eugenio wrote the general to complain of the arrest of Tibor Sulik, accused of sub-
version in his work as the president of ]OC’s international branch, which was

69

Prelude to the Bipartite

linked to the Vatican. Sulik also belonged to the CJP-BR, the Brazilian Section of the
Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission, and had attended the historic Medellin
bishops’ meeting in 1968. His jailing created great “uneasiness” and made it “pro-
foundly more difficult to do anything on my part” for Church—state understanding,
Dom Eugenio wrote.” Under pressure from Dom Eugenio and the papal nuncio
Sebastiano Baggio, the government released Sulik after ten days in prison.

Such incidents soiled Brazil’s international image. Like the Brazilian elite of the
past, the generals were deeply embarrassed by negative publicity and feared judg-
ment by European countries (Fico 1997:45—47; Huggins 19982175). Once received
cordially, in Europe Brazilians were now labeled “torturers.”13 This perception com-
pletely contradicted the notion of social progress wrought by theeconomic miracle.
The government vehemently denied the existence of torture and political prisoners.
It described negative reports as part of a foreign campaign to denigrate Brazil.

The Diplomatic Struggle in Rome

In Rome the Brazilian government and its Church critics competed for the
approval of Pope Paul VI and of the Vatican Secretariat of State, which coordinated
the Church’s diplomatic relations. The pope’s opinion was a key Variable in the con-
struction of Brazil’s image.

The Vatican walked a delicate line. On the one hand, it condemned human
rights violations and defended the clergyand the bishops, including the increas-
ingly critical CNBB. The ofﬁcial Vatican newspaper L’Osservat0re Romano published
CNBB documents that criticized the regime, and Vatican Radio broadcast a mes-
sage of solidarity to the victims of abuses in Brazil. An ofﬁcial at the Secretariat of
State affirmed that the pope had “irrefutable proof” of torture.“ Although the
regime eagerly cultivated the Catholic tradition of the Brazilian people and armed
forces, the Vatican rebuffed attempts to manipulate the Church. For instance, the
government attempted to convince Paul VI to visit Brazil in 1970 for the inaugura-
tion of the new national cathedral built in Brasilia with government funds. Irritated
by a false leak to the press by President Costa e Silva’s wife, lolanda, that the pon-
tiff would make the trip, substitute secretary of state Dom Giovanni Benelli, who
had worked in the Rio nunciature in the early 1960s, commented privately (and sar-
castically) that “the Brazilians will have to ﬁnd another ‘parish priest’ for the con-
secration of their cathedral.”15

On the other hand, however, Brazil and the Vatican maintained normal rela-
tions. Although noting the existence of social inequality, Paul VI recognized the

70

Prelude to the Bipartife

country’s efforts to develop.“ In condemning torture, the pope did not make direct
public reference to Brazil. The Vatican also denounced the terrorism of the revolu-
tionary left and refused to associate itself with guerrilla movements. For instance,
the Vatican showed little concern for the Dominicans imprisoned for collaborating
with revolutionary leader Carlos Marighella." In early 1970, after the pope’s embar-
rassing denunciation of torture, José Jobim, Brazil’s ambassador to the Holy See,
began missing Vatican diplomatic ceremonies and social functions. Yet in 1971 the
Secretariat of State informed Jobim that it opposed the campaign against Brazil’s
image. Paul VI made it clear that, whereas the Church had a moral and doctrinal
duty to denounce injustice, it should not make political judgements.“

The diplomatic struggle also generated debate among Brazil’s Catholic leaders
over the best method for stopping the atrocities. Moderates and conservatives
tended toward the Vatican line of persuasion and conciliation, whereas progres-
sives and radicals favored public denunciation. There was also conﬂict between the
bishops, who were more apt to try discussion, and some lay leaders and the pro-
gressive grass roots, who favored stronger condemnations and opposition to the
government. A key example was the case of Cardinal Agnelo Rossi.

Notwithstanding his refusal of a military medal, Dom Agnelo stood out as an
opponent of the campaign against Brazil’s image. He expressed this position in a
meeting with Paul V1.19 In late 1970, his promotion to Prefect of the Sacred
Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples, a major Vatican post, was sur-
rounded by controversy. The progressive grass roots had pressured for Dom
Agnelo’s removal, because they believed he was conservative and showed a “benev-
olent attitude” toward the military, as some European papers reported. Other
reports asserted the opposite: that Dom Agnelo opposed the governor of the state
of Sao Paulo and supported subversion (an implausible interpretation). The pope
and other high-level churchmen vigorously denied these assertions as pure specu-
lation by the press, and they emphasized Rossi’s capabilities for his new assign-
ment. The incident occupied the attention of the press and Rome’s diplomats for
months.” It was a ﬁne illustration of how the hierarchy’s public voice could over-
ride the clamor of internal dissent. More important, it illustrated how human
rights, Church-state relations, and conﬂict over religious renovation revolved
around the explosive question of torture.

Voices from Brazil

The examples of three leading defenders of human rights personify the diplo-
matic maneuvers in Rome. The ﬁrst was Dom Hélder. While serving as de facto

71

Prelude to the Bipartite

Vatican secretary of state in the 1950s, the future Paul VI had encouraged Dom
Hélder’s restructuring of the Brazilian Church. Dom Hélder now had privileged
access to the pope.” Both the government and the opposition tried to court Dom
Hélder to support their respective political causes. In 1965, for instance, Brazil’s
ambassador to the Vatican, Henrique de Souza Gomes, politely warned the arch-
bishop that Brazilian exiles in Paris were hoping to exploit his name. iWhen Dom
Hélder proved ever less cooperative with the regime, rumors emerged about diplo-
matic pressures to have him removed from Recife (Piletti and Praxedes 19972328,
339). In the words of one diplomat, Dom Hélder’s strict obedience to the Church
built him a “reserve of benevolence” that allowed him to speak freely about the sit-
uation in Brazil.”

Silenced in his own country, he became the leading critic of the regime abroad.
To stop Dom Hélder, Justice Minister Alfredo Buzaid proposed to President Médici
that the government revoke the archbishop’s special passport. Foreign Minister
Mario Gibson Barboza, a moderate, vetoed the measure as being illegal, however.
He argued that it would backﬁre and actually strengthen Dom Hélder’s position. As
a rule, he told Médici, it was best to allow the bishops to act freely so as not to cre-
ate martyrs.” This was sound advice, but it obviously went unheeded as the regime
and its allies continued to attack the Church. In another episode, Dom Hélder’s
opponents alleged that his frequent trips were backed ﬁnancially by Communists,
allegations that the government probably investigated.“

Using a more subtle approach, Ambassador Jobim spoke with Dom Hélder
about improving Church-state relations. Jobim concluded that Dom Hélder was
open to dialogue, but that the ongoing Church—military tensions and pressure from
grassroots radicals on the bishops discouraged it.25 Despite the goodwill he found
in the Vatican, Dom Hélder encountered resistance there also. Because of the com—
plaints of bishops who disagreed with his statements, he received instructions from
the secretariat of state to ask these bishops’ permission before speaking in their dio-
ceses. The secretariat, however, denied that it had required prior approval of Dom
Hélder’s speeches. In addition, in 1971 one observer of the Vatican reported that
Paul VI had warned Dom Hélder to concentrate on his own diocese.”

Another source of information on the repression was Branca de Mello Franco
Alves, the mother of the exiled congressman Marcio Moreira Alves. A Brazilian
Catholic Action leader, in mid-1968 Branca Alves was named to the Pontiﬁcal
Council for the Laity, a new, experimental organization created in the wake of
Vatican II to increase the voice of the faithful in international Church affairs. (The
council later became a permanent commission.) Her appointment and subsequent

72

Prelude to the Bipartite

advocacy represented an important advance for Latin Americans and for women,
two groups that had little representation in the mainly European and male Vatican
bureaucracy.” Believing that the council should extend its work to questions of
peace and justice, Branca Alves used her position to denounce the repression in
Brazil.” In Rio in May 1970, for instance, she hosted the council’s secretary,
Monsignor Marcel Uylenbroeck, who met with important members of the Catholic
left and ﬁled a conﬁdential report on the “fascist tendency” of the regime, includ-
ing torture and the prohibition of citizen participation.” After the heavy attacks on
JOC in August and September, she proposed to the council that a personal repre-
sentative of the Holy Father be sent to Brazil as a form of pressure on the regime.3°

Branca Alves met opposition in the government and the Church. Shortly after
the promulgation of AI-5, she had difficulty in obtaining a passport for a trip to
speak to the council on the Brazilian Church.” Later, in March 1970, she wrote
Cardinal Jean Villot, the Vatican secretary of state, to complain that papal nuncio
Dom Umberto Mozzoni had blocked her attempt to send sensitive dossiers to
Rome in the Church’s diplomatic pouch in order to skirt military security.
According to Branca Alves, Mozzoni did not want the government to learn that
such information had reached the Vatican with his help.”

Mozzoni had come to Brazil from Argentina in mid-1969 to replace Dom
Sebastiano Baggio. Dom Baggio defended Dom Hélder and encouraged other cler-
gymen to hide suspected subversives from the police, leading the military to con-
sider him practically persona non grata.33 The more cautious Mozzoni was
opposed by a large number of progressive Brazilian bishops, but the Vatican viewed
him as the best choice for the challenging Brazil post, made even more difficult by
the civil strife. Hespoke good Portuguese, was an able negotiator, and had long
experience in Latin America.“ He later took part in the Bipartite.

The third example was Alceu Amoroso Lima, modern Brazil’s leading Catholic
intellectual. Known as Alceu, he played a multifaceted role in Brazilian life. Alceu
led the Centro Dom Vital, acted as a Church-state intermediary, nurtured Brazilian
higher education, and authored numerous important books and articles. He deeply
inﬂuenced several generations of Catholic activists and intellectuals across the
political spectrum. Like Dom Hélder, Alceu had embraced Integralismo and the
Estado Novo in the 1930s, but moved left in the 1940s and 1950s, inspiring Catholic
Action to liberalize along the lines of the new progressive Catholic philosophy
emerging in Europe. Dom Hélder was the father of the Popular Church, and Alceu
its grandfather.” Alceu opposed the coup and fearlessly criticized the censorship
and torture perpetrated by the military regime. In May 1964, for instance, he

73

Prelude to the Bipartite

denounced as “cultural terrorism” the arrest and exile of major intellectuals.
Thereafter he continued to write his weekly newspaper column, which often criti-
cized the regime. His immense prestige put him above censorship and arrests“

In mid-1969 Alceu wrote a long conﬁdential letter to Dom Aloisio Lorscheider
asserting that the Church should work to end the dictatorship, “not by violent or
revolutionary means, but through the legal transformation of current institutions.”
The military’s obsessive anti—Communism had divided Brazil into “the good and
the bad,” Alceu wrote. “Nazi” elements in the government wanted the “total extinc-
tion” of all political movements, including the Church and the traditional political
class. They “ruptured our traditional history of compromise and amnesty” by
repressing the opposition. “The greatest danger is that they are anesthetizing
Brazil” and converting Brazilian cordiality and the willingness to forgive political
opponents “into lack of character, into an opportunistic malleability.”37

Alceu worked through a new Vatican board to denounce torture and the dicta-
torship. Paul VI appointed him to the Pontiﬁcal Peace and Justice Commission in
1967. Composed of representatives of different nationalities and ideological per-
spectives, this commission focused on Vatican II’s goals of the defense of human
rights and the advancement of socioeconomic development. The Pontiﬁcal Peace
and Justice Commission led to the founding of national commissions around the

Dom Sehastiano Baggio (in photo at left) and Dam Umberto Mozzoni represented two dﬁrent

styles for dealing with the military regime. Baggio angered the generals for his defense of Dom
Hélder and alleged suhversives. Dom Mozzoni, Baggio’s replacement, worked persistently to
smooth over Church-state dzﬁiculties.

74

Catholic intellectual Alceu Amoroso Lima opposed the military regime and argued for strong pub-

H lic denunciation of human rights violations.