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José Sarney
Volume 65 • Number 1
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102 FOREIGN AFFAIRS
warfare in the cities and guerrilla activity in the countryside.
No one could see the way out.
But we are a country full of surprises, and the unexpected
happened. At last, in 1985, a coalition of political forces came
together with the objective of installing a civilian government
under the presidency of Tancredo Neves, a skilled politician.
That coalition averted any possible military opposition, mobi-
lized public opinion and succeeded in uniting the country
under the seductive banner of change and reconciliation. In
this new coalition, I represented a group of liberals who had
broken with the old order and had joined others to end the
regime of force and implant a state of law.
The end of the tunnel came into view; politicians set aside
old grudges and came together to walk into the light. More
than half of the government party broke away and joined
Tancredo Neves, ensuring the end of the military regime. Our
coalition included all segments of society and all political views.
Society, a force so little recognized, took charge of events.
Change became the magic word; "Muda Brasil" was the cry
from north to south.
Tancredo Neves was the man History had prepared for this
task. He was firm, but smooth; obstinate, but with a great sense
of realism. He was a man of vast experience and had lived
Brazilian politics intensely. He had friends and contacts, and
inspired trust in all areas—among the military, the clergy, the
politicians. He threatened no one. His project was the future—
to rebuild institutions and reconstruct the economy, using a
conservative and ecumenical viewpoint, without rancor, armed
only with conciliation.
He personified a feeling, a hope, and a hope with a fixed
date for its realization: March 15, 1985, when he would be
inaugurated as president of the republic. Civilians would return
to power; the long-awaited dreams were about to come true,
"Muda Brasil." It was to be a national celebration.
n
A pitiful deception. Near the stroke of midnight, March 14,
Tancredo Neves was admitted to a hospital in Brasilia and
carried into the operating room, surrounded by doctors and
politicians, each bewildered in his own concerns. The great
change, just as it was about to begin, turned into complete
frustration. Fate had woven a plot that no novelist could have
written with such dramatic impact.
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BRAZIL: A PRESIDENT'S STORY 103
The foreign delegations were already assembling in Brasilia.
The public festivities were ready to begin, the people had taken
to the streets to celebrate, fireworks were lighting up our skies.
And in that cold hospital room, a team of doctors began to
operate on the man who had spent his whole life preparing to
be president. At that moment, a long martyrdom began for
Tancredo, and for Brazil, which for 37 days accompanied his
calvary.
My own quandary began at that moment. I was the vice-
president-elect. In all countries the vice-presidency is a public
office that is considered the political equivalent of the ele-
phants' graveyard, where mammoths die quietly after a long
public career. The vice-president only functions in moments of
crisis; otherwise, he appears at funerals and baptisms. He is
usually looked upon with distrust by the president, who senses
that his running mate would not mind if some bad luck hit
him. A popular comedian in Brazil performed a skit for a whole
year that always ended with the same questions: "Have you
ever seen a street named after a vice-president?" "Does anyone
ever name a child after the vice-president?"
I prepared to be a discreet and circumspect vice-president,
without ambition. My political transition to the coalition of
Tancredo Neves had been the subject of much criticism. After
all, I was placed on the ticket because I represented factions
that would provide the required electoral college majority. I
was not the candidate of hope, or even of change. I was a
device, a chess pawn in the political strategy. There was no
lack of confidants who whispered in my ear that here and there,
both inside and outside our coalition, people were saying
"Sarney is only a piece in the game. If anything goes wrong,
he'll never take office."
I read everything about the vice-presidency, above all the
literature from the United States where, after Watergate, the
subject began to interest academics and gave rise to many
theses and speculations. An old politician from my native state
of Maranhao had warned me, "This is a job in which even the
bartender gets into trouble." I made plans for a tranquil vice-
presidential term, during which I would spend my time fishing,
reading and writing. I felt this should be my reward for the
service I had rendered my country in breaking away from all
my old ties to help the restoration of democracy.
My personal relations with Tancredo Neves were excellent.
He remarked to some companions during the campaign that I
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had "a sense of proportion." The history of Brazil, as well as
that of the United States, is full of personal clashes between
the president and the vice-president. I had to be on my guard
against anything that might muddy the clear waters between
me and my running mate. Helpful contributing factors toward
this end were my own temperament and that of Tancredo,
both of us averse to friction, both conciliatory men, not easily
angered.
My road was clear: I would keep a low profile, I would be a
discreet presence who would not cause any trouble. I had
always made a point of avoiding the sin of vanity. This is how
I managed, for example, to get through the emotional day of
March 14, 1985, when I said farewell to the National Congress,
where I had spent the past 29 years—with the exception of the
five short years I had served as elected governor of my home
state.
Contrary to my habit of never going to sleep before mid-
night, I went home to retire at eight that evening, after the
solemn mass that initiated the inauguration ceremonies. I went
straight to the bedroom, stretched out and began to reflect. I
thought of my life, which had been full of struggle: born in a
small village on the outskirts of the Amazon forest, without a
wealthy family to support me. From that humble background
in Maranhao, fate had carried me to the high office of vice-
president. I had never dreamed that this could happen. My
wife came in, and seeing me there at that time, on that day,
flat on my back, deep in thought, could not help asking, "Are
you sick, today of all days?" I answered, "No, I'm just practicing
to be vice-president."
Within 30 minutes my respite was to be shattered. The
telephone rang. The anguished voice of the head of the medical
team of the Chamber of Deputies informed me that Tancredo
was ill and was on his way to the hospital. It appeared to be
acute appendicitis. There was evidence of septicemia. They
would have to operate immediately.
His call was soon followed by another, then another, then
another. The telephone never stopped ringing. I felt as if I had
been struck by lightning. No one knew that from that moment
we were to enter one of the most difficult periods in our
history, and that a long martyrdom was about to begin, destroy-
ing hopes and illusions. What would become of Brazil?
I went to the hospital and spoke with Tancredo Neves'
relatives, offering my solidarity and companionship. By three
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BRAZIL: A PRESIDENT'S STORY 105
o'clock in the morning of March 15, still in the intensive care
unit, Tancredo had not regained consciousness. The doctors
were silent; they would not risk a prognosis. Just six hours later
the National Congress would convene to hear the president
take the solemn oath of office. And Tancredo Neves was
hovering between life and death.
At the same time, a process of constitutional interpretation
was under way. Who would take over? Faced with this unfore-
seen situation, would the military actually relinquish power?
The crisis, the cursed crisis that we had feared throughout our
history, was menacing us again; it contained all the ingredients
for an enormous explosion.
Returning home, I found the house full of friends asking for
the latest news. Rumors had begun to overwhelm the country.
Jurists were giving their opinions. The barracks were in a state
of agitation. The government was in disarray. There was much
talk of resistance to my name. Yet none of this bothered me. I
thought only of Tancredo. He did not deserve this tragic end.
Nor did Brazil. I told anyone who would listen that all I wanted
was to wait for Tancredo Neves to recover so that I could
begin to serve as his second-in-command; in the interim, they
should entrust the power of government to the president of
the Chamber of Deputies.
It was 3:12 a.m. I answered the telephone. On the other end
of the line was Senator Jose Fragelli, president of the National
Congress, who told me:
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