BRAZIL : Alleged Coup Plot a Puzzling Piece of Political Theater

In a region where military men have so often held sway, stirrings in the barracks make Latin Americans sit up and take notice. Brazilians paid special attention to a recent television newscast on which Justice Minister Mauricio Correa screwed his brow into a frown and unveiled what he branded a conspiracy against democracy.

“I want to say something extremely serious,” he told TV Manchete, a major network. Not long ago, “some people” had called on President Itamar Franco with the mission of prodding him into endorsing a coup.

These “people”--Correa never identified them--”encouraged the president to promote a ‘Fujimori-zation,’ ” he said, referring to the Brazilian term for the “self-coup” fashioned by Peruvian President Alberto Fujimori; Fujimori, after his election, temporarily shut his nation’s Congress in April, 1992, and tore up its constitution.

As Correa told it, Franco, a democrat at heart, demurred; the tender Brazilian democracy was rescued from a threat it never knew was coming.

Still, Correa’s interview made for a dramatic but puzzling piece of political theater. Why did it take three months for him to reveal the plot? Why were the conspirators never punished?

Days later, outraged legislators demanded Correa appear before Congress to elaborate. He answered vaguely that he could not name names, and the legislators apparently lost interest.

The military command issued disclaimers and pledges to uphold democracy. Franco downplayed the matter, prohibiting Radiobras, the public broadcast network, from running a reprise of Correa’s interview. In a few days, the whole affair dropped off the national screen.

But the questions lingered. Was there an imminent military takeover looming in Brazil? Is there still? Virtually all political observers here say no.

The military, which ruled Brazil from 1964 to 1985, has neither the support nor the stomach to seize power. After all, generals had a heavy hand in making the mess--the huge public debt, staggering inflation and spend-thrift bureaucracy--that threatens to swallow Brazil today.

Last October, when the alleged plot was hatching, times were especially ripe for intrigue. Inflation, already a scorching 30% a month, was climbing ever higher, melting workers’ wages and patience. The legislature, president and judiciary--the pillars of this fledgling democracy--were at war over everything from taxes to personnel policy. Waves of scandal were buffeting the Brazilian capital.

Former President Fernando Collor de Mello, ousted from office after a giant corruption scandal, was mounting his comeback in the courts. His victory would have been a slap to Congress, which impeached him, and to the people, who poured into the streets to be rid of him. A dozen legislators were fingered for charging up to $50,000 to switch political parties.

Suddenly, a senior government economist admitted to having taken millions of dollars in kickbacks for helping divert government money into pet projects and the pockets of select legislators. Then came an opinion poll confirming the political malaise, ranking Congress as one of the country’s least prestigious institutions, placing well below the armed forces.

“The military have always proved to be true leaders in times of turbulence,” Gen. Benedito Onofre Leonel, the army chief, declared in a speech. “Beware of the choler of the legions,” he added darkly, invoking Roman centurion Marcus Flavinius’ warning.

No one expected Brazil’s centurions to roll their tanks into the streets, but their meaning was clear. In democratic Brazil, military intervention still serves as a default mode: Like a walking nuclear deterrent, just knowing, or saying, that soldiers are near is argument enough.

“We are already operating under a military half-anchor,” said Walder de Goes, a Brazilian political scientist. “For months, the military has been saying to authorities ‘Be careful, straighten up.’ ”

The authorities appear to be listening. Late last year, a federal court blocked Collor’s comeback, upholding the congressional ruling of 1992 barring him from seeking political office until the year 2001. The confessions of the thieving government economist sparked an investigation into the congressional “budget mafia.” In the coming weeks at least 20 light-fingered legislators are expected to be expelled from Congress.