Marcos Napolitano

Universidade de São Paulo

Translation: Idelber Avellar

For whom did the spies of the military dictatorship write? This is the question that reverberates out of reports, dossiers, verdicts, and other kinds of bureaucratic writings produced in Brazil by the services of surveillance and repression, among which DOPS (Department of Political and Social Order) was the most notorious. The social field of surveillance and control was central in the logic of national security imposed by the military coup of 1964.  Entities of civil society, spaces of sociability and culture, public critics, and the entire society were under surveillance.

The Brazilian military regime, much like those of other Latin American countries, concentrated on observing and controlling public space in order to politically demobilize society to guarantee “social peace.”. Those regimes can be characterized as authoritarian, insofar as their actions aimed at politically controlling and emptying the public space, while preserving some forms of private, individual freedom.

While police violence, legal and illegal, was systematically used against enemies and critics of the regime in extreme situations and when the generals in power felt particularly threatened, surveillance over civil society was constant. The obsession with surveillance as a way of preventing “subversive action” – especially what the manuals of the Doctrine of National Security called “subversive propaganda” and “psychological war against the democratic and Christian institutions” – ended up creating a logic of suspicion or a “persecutory ethos” (Fico, 2001: 37). The thousand of agents involved, from public employees to co-opted informants, were ruled by this logic. By following it, they ended up producing a phenomenon typical of authoritarian and totalitarian regimes: the production of suspicion was more important that the production of information itself.

In this logic based on the “production of suspicion” by informants, the “information community” not only alerted the government and the services of direct repression to concrete situations in which the regime was being opposed. Through interminable writing, they composed profiles, reports, imagined situations, and created conspiracies which, independently of any coherence or plausibility, ended up justifying the existence of those very services (Magalhães, 1997). They mobilized a set of discursive strategies and surveillance techniques (to use Foucauldian language) to create a representation of the internal enemy that could be hiding in the terrain of politics and, foremost, culture. Spaces, institutions, and people connected with culture (arts, education, journalism) were monitored with particular diligence by this “community.” In one of the anti-Communist surveillance manuals produced by the military regime, instructed the citizen to be prepared:

The realm of culture was seen with suspicion a priori. Culture was the sphere in which “communists” and “subversives” were particularly active, so as to confound the “useful and innocent” citizen. The musical field (besides theater field) was the main target of surveillance, above all the artists and events linked with MPB (Brazilian Popular Music), an acronym that since the 1960s was used to describe music oriented toward a national-popular imaginary (and after 1968, other cultural practices such as pop music), that opposed the military regime (Napolitano, 2007). The potential for people to coalesce around a musical event was a constant concern of the agents of repressio

From primary source material collected in the DOPS collection and in the public archives in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, it is possible to understand the strategies, the imaginary, and the symbolic representations that informed the written documents of the agents of repression, within the principle of production of suspicion. By and large they were framed by a mixture of anti-Communist, anti-democratic, and ultra-moralistic values. In the repressive bureaucracy’s diverse set of written genres one can note a certain incoherence and lack of commitment to the truth, given the need to overstate any attitude that might be considered suspicious.

The tactics for producing suspicion amongst artists followed a perverse logic, despite obvious improvisation and lack of criteria. The main accusations noted in the documents were the following, in decreasing degree of suspicion: a) participation in events sponsored by the student movement; b) participation in events linked with campaigns or entities of civil society; c) participation in the “MPB movement” or in the 1960s TV festivals; d) the content of the works and of the artists’ statements to the press (articles were often attached to the reports, as proof of accusation); e) direct connection with some “subversive” well known by the “information community” (the singer-songwriter Chico Buarque de Hollanda being one of the most often cited); f) the appearance of the artist’s name in a political prisoner’s statement or interrogation (it was enough that the suspect reported that he or she “liked” the singers in question, or that their songs were heard in a clandestine space). All these fragments, scattered in hundreds or thousands of documents, were eventually gathered in the form of accusatory entries, the so-called prontuários, which were summaries of the reports (informants’ notes and the collection of “subversive material”), personal files, and reserved information (texts already processed and synthesize

For example, following a retrospective of Brazilian cultural life published in Visão magazine (year 5, volume 44) in late 1974, a DOPS agent tried to incriminate not only the artists mentioned (Oduvaldo Vianna Filho and Ferreira Gullar) but also the magazine’s journalists and editors. The connection with the student movement, a source of recruitment for the recently defeated armed Left, was the main piece of evidence used against suspects:

The agent goes on to stress the “dangerous liaisons” between journalists and artists, in this case two known activists of the Brazilian Communist Party, as well as denounce the tactics of “war against the regime:

The brute work of persecution and production of suspicion was the “report” (informe) containing news, facts, and notes. Based on the “report,” a document called “information” was produced that already contained some degree of processing of the facts collected, and pointed toward possible direct repressive action (Fico, 2001:95). If reports and information had the function of scanning potentially or admittedly “subversive” activities by artists or their audience, there were also sets of documents devoted to the surveillance and control of individuals considered “suspicious.” These were basically of four types: biographic data, the concept files (a gathering of facts about one’s public and professional actions), the prontuário (a historical account of the suspect’s registered activities), and the “synthetic judgment” (a kind of evaluation by the agent of the individual) (Fico, 2001: 98-99). This set of documents had the clear function of being accusatory statements that could be set to work at any moment, in future trials or specific punishments. Reports and information were often not monopolized by a single information agency, as the exchange of documents among the several offices of the regime was fairly frequent.

All actions and statements that clashed with dominant morality, the ruling political order, or standards of moral behavior were seen as suspicious. In the case of music, the content of lyrics, performances, and occasional statements made by artists in their shows could also contribute their “suspicious profile,” and were duly emphasized in the notes of repressive agents. In addition to registering words and attitudes, the texts reveal the agents’ inferences in identifying the existence of a perpetual conspiracy orchestrated by “subversive” political groups that used the field of culture to initiate a “psychological war.” A simple remark contained in a suspect’s file could be highlighted in future reports produced by those agencies and through repetition would accentuate the degree of suspicion surrounding those who were monitored (Fico, 2001: 99).

Curiously, agents often exaggerated the political content of MPB by emphasizing the degree of its actual political and party identifications. For example, in a report produced in 1968 the field of popular music is said to

Military Monitoring of the Musical Milieu: A Chronology

The period of monitoring by repressive offices of the musical milieu begins in 1967 and extends to 1982, as indicated by DOPS collections available in the public archives of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo. A variety of dynamics took place within this broad chronology. By 1967-68 the field of MPB had been established, spurred by the success of the 1960s TV music festivals. At the same time there was the reemergence of “student question,” which led forces of repression to highlight music as “subversive propaganda” and “psychological war.” The main suspect of the time was Geraldo Vandré, who brought together people opposed to the regime, by there were many references also made to Nara Leão, Edu Lobo, Caetano Veloso, and Gilberto Gil, among others.

Between 1971 and 1975 concerts in the so-called “university circuit” began to appear most frequently in the official reports. Chico Buarque became the regime’s primary enemy, followed by Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Milton Nascimento, Gonzaguinha, and Ivan Lins. With Vandré’s exile, as well as his collapse as a public figure in the politicized musical milieu, Chico Buarque gained visibility and became the central figure for the musical left-wing opposition. The expression “a person linked with Chico Buarque de Hollanda” appeared frequently in files and reports as a marker of culpability.

After 1978, with the emergence of the Campaign for Amnesty and events connected to the labor movement, a new map of suspicion implicated artists involved in these initiatives. Elis Regina, cited in the first files and reports, began to appear more frequently for having recorded “O Bêbado e a Equilibrista” [“The drunk and the tightrope walker”] by João Bosco and Aldir Blanc, which became known as “the anthem of Amnesty.”

The documents produced by the regime’s agencies of information and repression allow us indirectly to map the MPB, at least as a direct and lived socio-cultural experience. At first, attention was focused on the audiences of the TV music festivals. Later it began to encompass the early 1970s university concert circuit, which took place on campuses and in stadiums of mid-sized towns of the hinterland.

In the early 1970s, particularly between 1971 and 1974, the monitoring of MPB was intimately connected to the surveillance of the student movement. It is reasonable to suppose that the latter determined the terms of suspicion and surveillance over the former. Any movement by MPB artists vis-à-vis the student youth audience had to be an object of preventive and heightened attention. In 1973 the Army Center of Information (CIE) in Brasília sent a formal request to DOPS of Rio de Janeiro DOPS to “monitor the behavior of students and artists at Vinícius de Moraes’ concert THE POET, THE VOICE, AND THE GUITAR (with Vinícius, Clara Nunes e Toquinho and special appearances by Chico Buarque, Maria Bethânia, and others).”

The informant, however, calms his superiors with regard to that show, stating that “the audience is composed of mature people, and only on weekends there is a predominance of ‘young elements.’ Nor is there contact between spectators and artists, since there is no access from the auditorium to the stage, which eliminates the possibility of dialogue.”

In the second half of the decade, agents of repression highlight the mass gatherings connected with political campaigns or opposition groups, like the Brazilian Committee for Amnesty (CBA), the Brazilian Society for Advancement of Science (SPBC), and the Democratic Brazilian Committee (CDB). Finally, at the end of the 1970s the labor movement emerged as the great concern of the “information community,” which became weaker after the failed bomb attack (perpetrated by military agents) targeting an MPB concert in the Riocentro shopping center on May 1, 1981.

The production of suspicion was carried out through surveillance of events, people, and social spaces considered to be “subversive.” In addition to certain social spaces considered suspicious, any attitude, whether ideological, political, or behavioral, could be labeled subversive. The repressive agents’ inferences, however, were not made at random, insofar as they were framed by a highly conservative imaginary that related, at times without any plausibility, the fear of social and political disorder to the dissolution of moral and family ties. For the logic of repression, the two things went hand in hand and, in this sense, we understand why Chico Buarque and Caetano Veloso, two artists with quite distinct ideological positions and degrees of political commitment, were both seen as threats to the ruling order.

Monitoring Musical Events

The emergence of TV music festivals, above all those of the TV Record TV in São Paulo, coincided with increasing student activism after 1966. The student setembrada [“Septemberfest”] of that year, marked by student marches against the regime, was followed by a musical outubrada that culminated with frenetic performances of Chico Buarque’s “A Banda” and Geraldo Vandré’s “Disparada,” the latter proving that protest song could be commercially successful. The following year, information from the Second Army of São Paulo identified TV Record TV and Radio Panamericana (currently Jovem Pan) as “foci” of “psychological influence on the audience by a group of singer-songwriters of philo-communist orientation that are openly active in the cultural scene: Ellis [sic] Regina, Gilberto Gil, Nara Leão, Chico Buarque, Edu Lobo and Geraldo Vandré.” The remainder of the document is a fragmentary mixture of accusations, notes on public events, and observations by the agent.

The shows organized by academic centers and student groups were particularly monitored. Regarding an MPB concert sponsored by the law and engineering students of PUC-Rio (a private Catholic university) in 1972, the agent wrote:

The information services made note of all situations that could be considered potentially subversive, particularly when they involved artists who were openly active in left-wing circles. During the same concert, the agent highlighted Sérgio Ricardo’s performance:

The information reports made use of infiltrated agents who scanned the place by taking stock of all actions and slogans that recalled the atmosphere of a political rally. On the occasion of the First University Festival of Niterói on March 1972 the following note was made:

Following the strategy of reiteration of suspicion based on past events, documents produced by the repressive apparatus alluded to relations and other contexts that could confirm suspicion. On noting his impressions of a concert by Vinícius de Moraes, Toquinho, and Marília Medaglia as part of the “university circuit” of 1972, the agent stressed that Medaglia was “the second wife of Isaias Almeida Medalha [sic], whose ideological position opposed to the regime,” and warned:

Here we note the function of memory proper to the repressive bureaucracy, in its recollection of the context of 1967, a year of preparation for the armed struggle in intellectual and student circles. The terms in the document suggest a kind of political pilgrimage by left-wing artists to several universities when, in fact, the “university circuit” was a low-budget commercial circuit and an opportunity to work in a period of censorship of mass media and musicians connected with MPB. The reference to Geraldo Vandré, at the time already a living legend in Brazilian music (albeit an absent one), attempted to lend an even more grave tone to the agent’s warnings. Contrasting with this conspiratorial tone, the text recognized that “during the show no libelous or offensive references to the institutions were noted.”

In the early 1970s the repression and suspicion directed at MPB artists and their audience was of such magnitude that common actions were the object of detailed description in the reports. One of them noted that

A series of seemingly disconnected pieces of information about the forbidden concert then followed:

Strictly speaking, the second passage of the document did not describe anything “subversive,” even for the paranoid standards of the military right-wing of the time, but we note a concern for a) registering the dean’s reaction, to determine if there was any possible complicity with the student activities; b) naming the student who was directly involved and “interested” in the production of the show; c) measuring the stadium’s capacity, as a way of predicting the potential capacity for that facility; d) expressing an insidious doubt regarding the profit from the spectacle, thereby suggesting a possible source of financing for “subversive activities.” These kinds of documents are true paradigms of the “production of suspicion,” even when they had nothing to register. Suspicion included artists, the dean, the “interested” student, the beneficiary of the profit.

At that time, in 1972, Chico Buarque was one of the artists most scrutinized by censors and by the “information community” and any event that featured on him was worthy of attention. If Chico Buarque already seemed like an “agent of the MPB group” in the 1960s, he was even more suspect after the episode involving his song “Apesar de Você” in 1970. In this song, the critique of the dictatorship masqueraded as a lover’s complaint. It was initially approved by censors and sold a hundred thousand copies before it was forbidden. The Army Information Center (CIE) registered the songwriter’s activities as if he were “the tip of an iceberg” in the world of “subversion.” The transcription clearly shows the kind of inferences, improbable connections, and observations found in these reports:

It’s interesting to note that an appendix to the confidential report, which seems to want to disrupt a vast network of dangerous subversives, was a small report in the Folha de São Paulo (10/1/72), titled “Chico Buarque begins the university circuit” containing no substantial information about his political opinions. The university circuit was not the only one monitored by the information services. Even when a show was sponsored by the major media and did not present any explicit political or ideological connotation, the logic of production of suspicion still informed the reports. On the occasion of an outdoor concert 1974 in the Flamengo soccer field in Rio de Janeiro sponsored by TV Globo (above suspicion and allied with the military regime), the agent reported:

After sociological considerations, in which hippies appeared less dangerous than communists, but still worthy of surveillance, the agent concluded: “No incidents were registered during the show, which did not have any political connotation.” However, the agent did not miss the chance to point out something illegal and abnormal among the generally depoliticized scene by imagining that “subversives” and “weed smokers” were suspect in the same way: “According to observers, a small group of attendees smoked marijuana openly, despite the presence of soldiers of the military police, who ignored the fact even though they were alerted.”

In the second half of the 1970s, with the political opening already consolidated and the total defeat of armed leftist organizations, the left-wing cultural field continued to be monitored. Even the seemingly objective and bureaucratic tone of some “information” pieces denounced possible forms of “subversion” in the world of culture:

The same MPB names were reiterated as suspects, but they began to be related to the shows connected to university campuses and occupied large sports arenas as part of citizenship campaigns such as those for Amnesty or for the return of democratic freedoms. The reference to the Sombras Group (Brazilian Musical Society), founded in 1974, is interesting because this group attempted to organize “artist-citizens” linked to the field of MPB that felt they weren’t getting a fair share of authorial rights, thereby breaking with SICAM (Independent Society of Composers and Musical Authors), a collection society dominated by anonymous musicians and generally more conservative (Morelli, 2000). The suspicion could be placed on the artist, but also on the audience, the “young people” who tried to gather support for the alternative left-wing press.

Musical events linked with the labor movement were featured in reports beginning in 1979. Following the failed bombing of Riocentro (the bomb exploded in the lap of the DOI-CODI agent before being brought inside), the First Army reviewed the “subversive” activities of CEBRADE (Center Democratic Brazil), trying to incriminate them for the attack, in a clear attempt to produce suspicion in order to hide the true culprits from the eyes of justice, from the police investigation, and from the information community itself.

The “information” in question was a piece of fantasy written in bad faith, revealing its own strategies to produce accusations and suspicion without the slightest connection with the truth or even plausibility.

CEBRADE was qualified in the report as a “terrorist” organization led by intellectuals of international prestige, and was seen as a kind of clandestine subversive organization that explained the world of popular music to labor unions, recalling earlier alliances by left-wing intellectuals and artists with the working class. In this case, the dream strategy for the left became its inverted mirror, as a proof of dangerous degrees of organization by “subversive” and “terrorist” artists and intellectuals. In an attempt to lend plausibility to the imaginary and fictional accusation, the document listed CEBRADE activities since 1979, when the labor unions became more politicized, following the metal workers strike in the ABC industrial beltway of São Paulo:

This “information” synthesizes the anti-communist and anti-democratic imaginary of the military right connected to the security services. In this repressive logic, MPB artists, CEBRADE, ABI, leftist intellectuals, “broad, general, and unrestricted” amnesty, Chico Buarque, and the labor movement were part of a grand conspiracy to de-stablize the regime and the established order by ways of events that appeared to be peaceful. Had this document been produced a few year earlier, it could have initiated an unprecedented wave of persecution and repression. By the beginning of the 1980s, however, the political opening was already consolidated, negotiations between the liberal opposition and the centrist wing of the armed forces were at an advanced stage, anticipating the gradual return of civilians to power. Yet the “information community,” neutralized since at least 1976, was still alive, and sponsored attacks against entities of civil society, with three basic goals: to make it more difficult for the military regime to dialogue with liberal sectors of civil society (the roadmap of the political “opening”); to create an atmosphere of political polarization between the right and the left; and to blackmail the government and civil society to prevent any punishment for the constant violations of human rights that took place mainly between 1969 and 1976. The “Riocentro affair” was the swan’s song for the information community which, in exchange for impunity, negotiated its demobilization as an autonomous political force within the state.

Monitoring Musicians

Geraldo Vandré became the icon of the politically engaged, persecuted, and censored artist throughout the Brazilian military regime. For his career this burden became unbearable and led him to forsake artistic life, but the fact that he was targeted by repression and information agencies contributed to his status as a kind of living legend. The information that we reproduce here, produced in 1968 at the height of Vandré’s success, mixes personal files, analysis, and biographical research about the artist’s movements and political connections. The information starts in a seemingly neutral and objective tone, listing civil and professional data about Vandré:

The emphasis on the professional data (a “SUNAB inspector”) gains a strategic importance for the production of suspicion, for one of the military’s arguments to persecute many citizens was prevarication and corruption. That is to say, the fact that Vandré was an artist and a pubic employee could be utilized in future trials and investigations. Following that, the agent points to another “cultural” activity stigmatized as “subversive”:

The “protest song” was used as an aggravating stigmatizing factor. As would be the case later with Chico Buarque, Vandré was identified as a kind of leader of the “MPB group,” a questionable statement for anyone who knows the internal tensions and debates proper to this musical tendency. The agent listed the song “Aroeira,” a hit from 1966 with a more politically explicit message than that of “Disparada.” The exhortative tone of the song was listed as an accusation and material proof of the “unabashed” crime of subversion.

After listing his personal and professional data, suggesting his connections with cultural opposition activities, and naming him the doyen of protest music, the agent concluded with the definitive proof of Vandré’s connection to subversion: his links to clandestine left-wing organizations and his trips to countries in the Soviet bloc:

The textual strategy for the production of suspicion (in this case, the proof of the crime of subversion) was clear-- to fill in all blanks with information obtained from other sources. His presence in Eastern Europe performing odes to Che Guevara and the unconfirmed trip to Moscow with “students, intellectuals, and parlementarians” turned the innocent “SUNAB inspector” into an “active Communist” with international connections-- the most dangerous kind of subversive. The origin of the data matters little here. The suspicion was produced and ready to be activated by the repressive machine. In Vandré’s case, it came full strength.

Another case of rather peculiar suspicion involved Caetano Veloso. His political positions, already known in the late 1960s and always critical of left-wing engaged art, ended up generating a number of conflicts between his public persona and left-wing audiences, who labeled him “alienated.” His notoriously independent political positions – distant from engaged art in the traditional sense– were not enough to dispel suspicion. On the contrary, the information offices paid special attention to his statements and performances (more than to his songs in themselves). Caetano’s file listed well-known facts, many of them extracted from newspapers, but it did so as if revealing the profile of a dangerous militant. The first point, in a demonstration of ignorance of musical history, connects bossa nova with left-wing student culture. In this case, participation in a specific venue (the Paramount Theater, used by student organizations) was proof of his “leftism”:

The presence of the Bahian group, according to the agent, was another proof of “subversion.” This is further evidence that the accusations were not concerned with the truthfulness or quality of the information. According to the agent the group had “been singing protest music that subliminally attacked the ruling regime and exalted socialist regimes.” By that time it was fairly clear that the Tropicalist group was critical of protest music strictu sensu. They did not praise the socialist regimes at all, being, as they were, much closer to the values of counterculture and the student unrest of May 1968 in France.

The informant manages to invent “the tropicalist rhythm,” a genre that no historian or musicologist has been able to identify so far. Yet the “tropicalist rhythm” appears as another proof of subversion in corrupting the national anthem:

Finally, the news that a group faithful to Lord of the Bonfim intended to sue the songwriter was also brought up as an aggravating factor:

This kind of “report” did not reveal anything unknown or obscure. His participation in Paramount shows, his shows on university campuses, the news about his imprisonment following Institutional Act 5, the backlash by conservative believers. In sum, published news reports were reproduced as if they were original discoveries and ground for suspicion, when in truth they did not reveal anything that was not known by the fans that followed Veloso’s career. The episode of the National Anthem in “tropicalist rhythm,” as the composer himself has noted, had been the product of an accusation by a conservative radio announcer in São Paulo, who denounced as subversive the October 1968 performances at the Sucata nightclub in Rio de Janeiro. In Veloso’s words, “Randal Juliano decided to create a fantasy version in which we appeared wrapped up in the Brazilian flag and sang the National Anthem interspersed with vulgarities” (Veloso, 2000: 396).

This denunciation served as an argument for the imprisonment of Veloso and Gil for three months beginning in late 1968. The persecutory logic of repression made use of real facts, at times banal and well-known, mixing them with information given by spontaneous or professional accusers in addition to inferences and conclusions drawn by the writer of the document.

The participation in public and authorized events, when connected to the student movement, was described as a clandestine and conspiratorial activity. The report on Gilberto Gil emphasized his participation in an homage to Alexandre Vanucchi Leme, a University of São Paulo geology student who died during torture in the facilities of DOI-CODI in São Paulo. His participation was all the more suspect given that he had just returned from exile in London:

The performance of “Cálice” [Chalice] with Chico Buarque, combined with Gil’s well-known participation in the late 1960s festivals, form the basis of the accusation. This information did not need any spying service because it was already public. Within the logic of texts produced by information services they were cloaked in solemn and grave revelations, given importance not only to suspicion, but also to the supposedly perspicacious action by the intelligence services.

In researching the DOPS archives one notices that the documents produced by agents map artists’ public appearances for concerts and events related to social movements with no concern for the content of the works, which was the focus of censorship. Suspicion was thus produced by the artist’s social circulation, over and above the content of the work. Elis Regina, for example, is cited for her participation in shows with the Amnesty Campaign (PUC, 8/14/79; São Jorge Park, 8/17/79), in support of the labor movement (ABC, 4/3/79, during the second steelworker strike), and in student concerts (“Gente”, 12/77, shows at USP, 8/10/79 and 8/17/79). Milton Nascimento is cited for his participation in MPB festivals in the 1960s, in the week of “democratic freedoms,” and in the annual meeting of SPBC (Brazilian Society for the Progress of Science) in 1976 and 1977. Ivan Lins is cited many times, mainly after 1977, for his participation in student shows and SBPC meetings. One notes the informants’ tactics to establish connections and relationships between artists and “subversive” social movements. Through the repetition of annotations they came to more compromising conclusions according to the logic of repression and organically connected these artists to clandestine groups. This was, perhaps, the most serious accusation and it was enough to send someone to prison.

A report produced by DOPS in 1975 features a list of artists presumed to belong to the “cadres” of the Brazilian Communist Party. In the order in which they appear, they are: Vinícius de Moraes, Toquinho, MPB4, Chico Buarque, Edu da Gaita, Mário Lago, Gilberto Gil, Paulinho da Viola, Jorge Goulart, Nora Ney, Nelson Cavaquinho, Alfredo Dias Gomes, Janete Clair, Ivani Ribeiro, Dionísio Azevedo, Carlos Verezza, Jararaca, Rafael Carvalho, and Caetano Veloso.

The report concludes that “all these artists participated in shows organized by the PCB with the intent of raising funds for them, without charging anything for their work.”

The line about “shows organized by PCB” was itself inferential because MPB shows were never directly linked to a party or group (much less clandestine ones). The inference serves as an argument to compose a presumed “database of artists.” On that list they mixed names of historic Communists (Mário Lago, Jorge Goulart, Nora Ney, Dias Gomes, Carlos Verezza), politically engaged artists with some affinities, but not organic links with the PCB (Chico Buarque, MPB-4, Vinícius de Moraes), artists admired by Communists (Nelson Cavaquinho), and even critics of the PCB aesthetic (Caetano Veloso). The total lack of criteria and veracity placed everyone in the same degree of party affiliation, as if they all had an organic and activist relation to the party. The list becomes even more insidious when we recall that in 1975 the PCB was under siege by forces of repression and information services. Until then, the PCB had been relatively spared the most violent repression because it did not join the armed struggle. Throughout that year, dozens of PCB activists and sympathizers were taken to DOPS and DOI-CODI headquarters and many of them died during torture.

Returning to the question that opens this article: for whom did the spies of the military regime write? Keeping in sight the self-referential persecutory logic, the lack of veracity and plausibility of many reports, the excess of inference without solid argument, and vague expressions, we could say that repression and information services, above all, wrote for themselves. However, in a time of authoritarianism, a zealous police idiosyncrasy became a justification for systematic and violent repressive action sponsored by the state and the ruling powers. MPB artists, targets of the production of suspicion, emerge in these documents of repression as leaders of a revolutionary conspiracies that typically were born and died in bohemian gatherings, in conversations behind closed doors, in concerts that circulated words of encouragement. And that was, perhaps, not negligible in times of authoritarianism and silence.

Notes

Works Cited