Intense emotions and a profusion of senses mark us with each political and social tragedy that surrounds us. Natural catastrophes, daily violence and the common way in which lives are lost in traffic, landslides, terrorist attacks and all forms of action raise disconcerting questions: why and how did it happen? And, ultimately, why not with me? Why do some pay for the misfortune of a coincidence, a time or a state of social and ethical decomposition instead of others?
The executions of Marielle Franco and her driver, Anderson Gomes, on the night of March 14, in Rio de Janeiro, caused commotion and stirred up tension on social media in a polarized country. The context of military intervention in the State of Rio de Janeiro, the political pressures of a complex electoral board emptied of representation, the feeling of impotence among citizens were the backdrop for sterile disputes and, often, insensitive to the lives lost.
Marielle's case, when compared to other crimes and executions, shows on our faces the way in which compassion is variable and selective. Those who sought to attack the executed councilwoman, black activist and human rights defender, associating her with supposed criminal groups is unspeakable perversity. Attempts to compare the execution to other similar crimes and, therefore, naturalize it as a common occurrence are appalling. Marielle's life clearly does not have a higher value than the other victims. But the condition that caused her death has a broader political and social impact to the point of meriting widespread media coverage and sparking immense controversy.
The suffering of others and the recognition of victimhood are complex aspects in mediatized societies. Compassion exists in the space and conditions in which we feel vulnerable. It is no coincidence that Marielle's murder reminded many of the statistics regarding black youth, the biggest victims of structural violence in Brazil. Everything that happened to her could happen to many other people, but not to everyone.
Public feelings are produced from immediate solidarity with the victims and the idea of suffering that surrounds us. However, sensation is not always enough. In democratic societies, in theory, the principle of equality permeates social and political relations and, in this way, people would tend to put themselves in the other's shoes and build a relationship of empathy. In practice, although equality is a mantra repeated and made official by legislation, people build more complex bonds and connections that permeate notions of belonging – family, social, economic, etc. Feelings, therefore, are feelings of oneself: the humanity that affects me is that to which I belong. And the struggles that mobilize me are those that I share or, at least, do not harbor any aversion to.
The challenge that emerges in this condition is a way of asking: what kind of society and democratic principles are we trying to build from our historical conditions? Each person must respond publicly about their bonds and their way of expressing consent in the face of the tragedies that befall us every day. Individualism, characteristic of Westernized societies, is not the only condition we have. Solidarity and the duty to bear witness to differences and singularities are equally fundamental perspectives in the repertoire of republican and democratic societies.
The authoritarianism of Brazilian society is well known, as is the logic of exclusion and historical inequalities. When society faces specific and constant tragedies, it is an opportunity to ask ourselves about the paths that have been and continue to be chosen. Compassion must be cultivated, but we cannot be trapped in an artificial division between individuals with a “good conscience” and those who accuse the other side of “political use” of other people's pain. It is not enough to make a post on social media to explain your vision and feelings in the current context.
It is necessary to overcome the issue and think from a political perspective: are the rights I defend, by extension, universal? Are there victims who are more representative than others? This is the paradox that, sadly, the deaths of Marielle and Anderson present to us. Without political reflection, media compassion will only make us forget this episode in a few weeks, until other victims and another situation emerge that raise the question: what are we doing for ourselves and for the society in which we participate?
There are no privileges in the face of death: we will all die. But there are priorities and privileges in life that make clear how far we are from each other.
