Na base do conhecimento está o erro


“Isto é Gozar com quem Trabalha” – João Cotrim de Figueiredo


Sou suspeito, obviamente, mas o João Cotrim de Figueiredo esteve muito bem na entrevista que o Ricardo Araújo Pereira (RAP) lhe proporcionou, no “Isto é Gozar com quem Trabalha“.

Não só foi objectivo e claro como igualmente desmistificou a maioria das críticas ao que a Iniciativa Liberal defende.

Contudo, não tenho apreciado, nem gostado da generalidade dos comentários respeitantes ao RAP, o qual, apesar de ser de esquerda, não deixa de convidar pessoas de outras áreas ideológicas para o(s) seu(s) programa(s).

Nesse sentido, para além dum agradecimento – é, praticamente, o único que convida a IL (ou os seus representantes) para programas de televisão – desejo reconhecer uma atitude de pluralidade por parte de RAP.

Parabéns, João!

Obrigado, Ricardo!

Rui Rio e os lucros

RR banca lucros

Rui Rio é um verdadeiro social-democrata e, como tal, apesar do desgosto que causou a algumas pessoas, não teve qualquer problema em dizer que o PSD era um partido de esquerda. E tem razão. A social-democracia é uma variação directa do marxismo.

Rio já manifestou a sua preferência pelo pensamento de Eduard Bernstein. Feroz crítico do materialismo histórico e das teses dialécticas, colocou em causa as ditas “leis” da inevitabilidade da concentração capitalista e do empobrecimento crescente do proletariado. Não se opôs à iniciativa privada.

Quando o líder do PSD afirma que se “a banca apresentar em 2020 e 2021 lucros avultados, esses lucros serão uma vergonha e uma ingratidão para com o povo português”, está a ir muito para além da dimensão social-democrata.

Não acredito que Rui Rio desconheça qual é o objectivo duma sociedade comercial?

E se o deputado Rui Rio acredita no que afirma, então porque não dá o exemplo, não só pela redução do seu vencimento, como também das subvenções partidárias, no período que aponta?



The state in the time of covid-19

Big government is needed to fight the pandemic. What matters is how it shrinks back again afterwards – The Economist

IN JUST A few weeks a virus a ten-thousandth of a millimetre in diameter has transformed Western democracies. States have shut down businesses and sealed people indoors. They have promised trillions of dollars to keep the economy on life support. If South Korea and Singapore are a guide, medical and electronic privacy are about to be cast aside. It is the most dramatic extension of state power since the second world war.

One taboo after another has been broken. Not just in the threat of fines or prison for ordinary people doing ordinary things, but also in the size and scope of the government’s role in the economy. In America Congress is poised to pass a package worth almost $2trn, 10% of GDP, twice what was promised in 2007-09. Credit guarantees by Britain, France and other countries are worth 15% of GDP. Central banks are printing money and using it to buy assets they used to spurn. For a while, at least, governments are seeking to ban bankruptcy.

For believers in limited government and open markets, covid-19 poses a problem. The state must act decisively. But history suggests that after crises the state does not give up all the ground it has taken. Today that has implications not just for the economy, but also for the surveillance of individuals.

It is no accident that the state grows during crises. Governments might have stumbled in the pandemic, but they alone can coerce and mobilise vast resources rapidly. Today they are needed to enforce business closures and isolation to stop the virus. Only they can help offset the resulting economic collapse. In America and the euro area GDP could drop by 5-10% year-on-year, perhaps more.

One reason the state’s role has changed so rapidly is that covid-19 spreads like wildfire. In less than four months it has gone from a market in Wuhan to almost every country in the world. The past week logged 253,000 new cases. People are scared of the example of Italy, where almost 74,000 recorded cases have overwhelmed a world-class health system, leading to over 7,500 deaths.

That fear is the other reason for rapid change. When Britain’s government tried to hang back so as to minimise state interference, it was accused of doing too little, too late. France, by contrast, passed a law this week giving the government the power not just to control people’s movements, but also to manage prices and requisition goods. During the crisis its president, Emmanuel Macron, has seen his approval ratings soar.

In most of the world the state has so far responded to covid-19 with a mix of coercion and economic heft. As the pandemic proceeds, it is also likely to exploit its unique power to monitor people using their data (see article). Hong Kong uses apps on phones that show where you are in order to enforce quarantines. China has a passporting system to record who is safe to be out. Phone data help modellers predict the spread of the disease. And if a government suppresses covid-19, as China has, it will need to prevent a second wave among the many who are still susceptible, by pouncing on every new cluster. South Korea says that automatically tracing the contacts of fresh infections, using mobile technology, gets results in ten minutes instead of 24 hours.

This vast increase in state power has taken place with almost no time for debate. Some will reassure themselves that it is just temporary and that it will leave almost no mark, as with Spanish flu a century ago. However, the scale of the response makes covid-19 more like a war or the Depression. And here the record suggests that crises lead to a permanently bigger state with many more powers and responsibilities and the taxes to pay for them. The welfare state, income tax, nationalisation, all grew out of conflict and crisis (see article).

As that list suggests, some of today’s changes will be desirable. It would be good if governments were better prepared for the next pandemic; so, too, if they invested in public health, including in America, where reform is badly needed. Some countries need decent sick pay.

Other changes may be less clear-cut, but will be hard to undo because they were backed by powerful constituencies even before the pandemic. One example is the further unpicking of the euro-zone pact that is supposed to impose discipline on the member-states’ borrowing. Likewise, Britain has taken its railways under state control—a step that is supposed to be temporary but which may never be retracted.

More worrying is the spread of bad habits. Governments may retreat into autarky. Some fear running out of the ingredients for medicines, many of which are made in China. Russia has imposed a temporary ban on exporting grain. Industrialists and politicians have lost trust in supply chains. It is but a small step from there to long-term state support for the national champions that will have just been bailed out by taxpayers. Trade’s prospects are already dim (see article); all this would further cloud them—and the recovery. And in the long term, a vast and lasting expansion of the state together with dramatically higher public debt (see article) is likely to lead to a lumbering, less dynamic kind of capitalism.

But that is not the biggest problem. The greater worries lie elsewhere, in the abuse of office and the threats to freedom. Some politicians are already making power grabs, as in Hungary, where the government is seeking an indefinite state of emergency. Israel’s prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, appears to see the crisis as a chance to evade a trial for corruption.

The most worrying is the dissemination of intrusive surveillance. Invasive data collection and processing will spread because it offers a real edge in managing the disease. But they also require the state to have routine access to citizens’ medical and electronic records. The temptation will be to use surveillance after the pandemic, much as anti-terror legislation was extended after 9/11. This might start with tracing TB cases or drug dealers. Nobody knows where it would end, especially if, having dealt with covid-19, surveillance-mad China is seen as a model.

Surveillance may well be needed to cope with covid-19. Rules with sunset clauses and scrutiny built in can help stop it at that. But the main defence against the overmighty state, in tech and the economy, will be citizens themselves. They must remember that a pandemic government is not fit for everyday life.

Governo de salvação nacional?


Após a declaração do Estado de Emergência, que foi apoiada sem votos contra na Assembleia da República, António Costa formou um gabinete de crise apenas com ministros do seu governo. Isto foi, na minha opinião, um erro. António Costa devia ter aproveitado para fazer um gabinete de crise nacional. Mas não o fez, optando por constituir um gabinete de crise socialista, utilizando um critério exclusivamente politico.

Esta decisão é muito estranha. A natureza da crise não é política ou ideológica, mas de saúde pública. Quererá isto dizer que o governo parece estar mais preocupado em preparar-se para um futuro combate politico do que para um combate na saúde pública?

Apesar de desconhecer a estratégia do último homem, António Costa é, goste-se ou não, um político hábil e com experiência. É por isso que procuro razões para compreender que, num momento excepcional de união para proteger as pessoas, o Primeiro-ministro tenha feito uma escolha política. Não admira, pois, que já se ouçam vozes a equacionar um governo de salvação nacional.

Deve notar-se que mesmo após as alterações que a revisão constitucional de 1982 introduziu na Constituição, e as formalidades que a própria impõe, entre as quais alguns constrangimentos temporais, a possibilidade para a formação de um governo de salvação nacional de iniciativa presidencial poderá não ser impraticável.

Assim, quando o governo não tem margem para errar e detém poderes extraordinários para lidar com a situação, a António Costa só resta tomar a iniciativa para liderar o processo e não esperar que sejam outros a fazê-lo.

COVID-19 – Global

Leiam este artigo do New York TimesWhich country has flattened the curve for coronavirus?

Vão ficar a perceber porque andei a reclamar por medidas mais draconianas todos estes dias.

É preciso pressionar o governo. António Costa não pode falhar outra vez.

The Coronavirus Could Reshape Global Order

XI masc

China Is Maneuvering for International Leadership as the United States Falters
By Kurt M. Campbell and Rush Doshi, March 18, 2020

With hundreds of millions of people now isolating themselves around the world, the novel coronavirus pandemic has become a truly global event. And while its geopolitical implications should be considered secondary to matters of health and safety, those implications may, in the long term, prove just as consequential—especially when it comes to the United States’ global position. Global orders have a tendency to change gradually at first and then all at once. In 1956, a botched intervention in the Suez laid bare the decay in British power and marked the end of the United Kingdom’s reign as a global power. Today, U.S. policymakers should recognize that if the United States does not rise to meet the moment, the coronavirus pandemic could mark another “Suez moment.”

It is now clear to all but the most blinkered partisans that Washington has botched its initial response. Missteps by key institutions, from the White House and the Department of Homeland Security to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), have undermined confidence in the capacity and competence of U.S. governance. Public statements by President Donald Trump, whether Oval Office addresses or early-morning tweets, have largely served to sow confusion and spread uncertainty. Both public and private sectors have proved ill-prepared to produce and distribute the tools necessary for testing and response. And internationally, the pandemic has amplified Trump’s instincts to go it alone and exposed just how unprepared Washington is to lead a global response.

The status of the United States as a global leader over the past seven decades has been built not just on wealth and power but also, and just as important, on the legitimacy that flows from the United States’ domestic governance, provision of global public goods, and ability and willingness to muster and coordinate a global response to crises. The coronavirus pandemic is testing all three elements of U.S. leadership. So far, Washington is failing the test.

As Washington falters, Beijing is moving quickly and adeptly to take advantage of the opening created by U.S. mistakes, filling the vacuum to position itself as the global leader in pandemic response. It is working to tout its own system, provide material assistance to other countries, and even organize other governments. The sheer chutzpah of China’s move is hard to overstate. After all, it was Beijing’s own missteps—especially its efforts at first to cover up the severity and spread of the outbreak—that helped create the very crisis now afflicting much of the world. Yet Beijing understands that if it is seen as leading, and Washington is seen as unable or unwilling to do so, this perception could fundamentally alter the United States’ position in global politics and the contest for leadership in the twenty-first century.


In the immediate aftermath of the outbreak of the novel coronavirus, which causes the disease now referred to as COVID-19, the missteps of Chinese leaders cast a pall on their country’s global standing. The virus was first detected in November 2019 in the city of Wuhan, but officials didn’t disclose it for months and even punished the doctors who first reported it, squandering precious time and delaying by at least five weeks measures that would educate the public, halt travel, and enable widespread testing. Even as the full scale of the crisis emerged, Beijing tightly controlled information, shunned assistance from the CDC, limited World Health Organization travel to Wuhan, likely undercounted infections and deaths, and repeatedly altered the criteria for registering new COVID-19 cases—perhaps in a deliberate effort to manipulate the official number of cases.

As the crisis worsened through January and February, some observers speculated that the coronavirus might even undermine the leadership of the Chinese Communist Party. It was called China’s “Chernobyl”; Dr. Li Wenliang—the young whistleblower silenced by the government who later succumbed to complications from the COVID-19—was likened to the Tiananmen Square “tank man.”

Yet by early March, China was claiming victory. Mass quarantines, a halt to travel, and a complete shutdown of most daily life nationwide were credited with having stemmed the tide; official statistics, such as they are, reported that daily new cases had fallen into the single digits in mid-March from the hundreds in early February. In a surprise to most observers, Chinese leader Xi Jinping—who had been uncharacteristically quiet in the first weeks—began to put himself squarely at the center of the response. This month, he personally visited Wuhan.

Even though life in China has yet to return to normal (and despite continuing questions over the accuracy of China’s statistics), Beijing is working to turn these early signs of success into a larger narrative to broadcast to the rest of the world—one that makes China the essential player in a coming global recovery while airbrushing away its earlier mismanagement of the crisis.

Beijing is working to turn early signs of success into a larger narrative to broadcast to the rest of the world.

A critical part of this narrative is Beijing’s supposed success in battling the virus. A steady stream of propaganda articles, tweets, and public messaging, in a wide variety of languages, touts China’s achievements and highlights the effectiveness of its model of domestic governance. “China’s signature strength, efficiency and speed in this fight has been widely acclaimed,” declared Foreign Ministry spokesman Zhao Lijian. China, he added, set “a new standard for the global efforts against the epidemic.” Central authorities have instituted tight informational control and discipline at state organs to snuff out contradictory narratives.

These messages are helped by the implicit contrast with efforts to battle the virus in the West, particularly in the United States—Washington’s failure to produce adequate numbers of testing kits, which means the United States has tested relatively few people per capita, or the Trump administration’s ongoing disassembly of the U.S. government’s pandemic-response infrastructure. Beijing has seized the narrative opportunity provided by American disarray, its state media and diplomats regularly reminding a global audience of the superiority of Chinese efforts and criticizing the “irresponsibility and incompetence” of the “so-called political elite in Washington,” as the state-run Xinhua news agency put it in an editorial.

Chinese officials and state media have even insisted that the coronavirus did not in fact emerge from China—despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary—in order to reduce China’s blame for the global pandemic. This effort has elements of a full-blown Russian-style disinformation campaign, with China’s Foreign Ministry spokesman and over a dozen diplomats sharing poorly sourced articles accusing the U.S. military of spreading the coronavirus in Wuhan. These actions, combined with China’s unprecedented mass expulsion of journalists from three leading American papers, damage China’s pretensions to leadership.


Xi understands that providing global goods can burnish a rising power’s leadership credentials. He has spent the last several years pushing China’s foreign policy apparatus to think harder about leading reforms to “global governance,” and the coronavirus offers an opportunity to put that theory into action. Consider China’s increasingly well-publicized displays of material assistance—including masks, respirators, ventilators, and medicine. At the outset of the crisis, China purchased and produced (and received as aid) vast quantities of these goods. Now it is in a position to hand them out to others.

When no European state answered Italy’s urgent appeal for medical equipment and protective gear, China publicly committed to sending 1,000 ventilators, two million masks, 100,000 respirators, 20,000 protective suits, and 50,000 test kits. China has also dispatched medical teams and 250,000 masks to Iran and sent supplies to Serbia, whose president dismissed European solidarity as “a fairy tale” and proclaimed that “the only country that can help us is China.” Alibaba co-founder Jack Ma has promised to send large quantities of testing kits and masks to the United States, as well as 20,000 test kits and 100,000 masks to each of Africa’s 54 countries.

Beijing’s edge in material assistance is enhanced by the simple fact that much of what the world depends on to fight the coronavirus is made in China. It was already the major producer of surgical masks; now, through wartime-like industrial mobilization, it has boosted production of masks more than tenfold, giving it the capacity to provide them to the world. China also produces roughly half of the N95 respirators critical for protecting health workers (it has forced foreign factories in China to make them and then sell them directly to the government), giving it another foreign policy tool in the form of medical equipment. Meanwhile, antibiotics are critical for addressing emerging secondary infections from COVID-19, and China produces the vast majority of active pharmaceutical ingredients necessary to make them.

Beijing’s edge in material assistance is enhanced by the fact that much of what the world depends on to fight the coronavirus is made in China.

The United States, by contrast, lacks the supply and capacity to meet many of its own demands, let alone to provide aid in crisis zones elsewhere. The picture is grim. The U.S. Strategic National Stockpile, the nation’s reserve of critical medical supplies, is believed to have only one percent of the masks and respirators and perhaps ten percent of the ventilators needed to deal with the pandemic. The rest will have to be made up with imports from China or rapidly increased domestic manufacturing. Similarly, China’s share of the U.S. antibiotics market is more than 95 percent, and most of the ingredients cannot be manufactured domestically. Although Washington offered assistance to China and others at the outset of the crisis, it is less able to do so now, as its own needs grow; Beijing, in contrast, is offering aid precisely when the global need is greatest.

Crisis response, however, is not only about material goods. During the 2014–15 Ebola crisis, the United States assembled and led a coalition of dozens of countries to counter the spread of the disease. The Trump administration has so far shunned a similar leadership effort to respond to the coronavirus. Even coordination with allies has been lacking. Washington appears, for example, not to have given its European allies any prior notice before instituting a ban on travel from Europe.

China, by contrast, has undertaken a robust diplomatic campaign to convene dozens of countries and hundreds of officials, generally by videoconference, to share information about the pandemic and lessons from China’s own experience battling the disease. Like much of China’s diplomacy, these convening efforts are largely conducted at the regional level or through regional bodies. They include calls with central and eastern European states through the “17 + 1” mechanism, with the Shanghai Cooperation Organization’s secretariat, with ten Pacific Island states, and with other groupings across Africa, Europe, and Asia. And China is working hard to publicize such initiatives. Virtually every story on the front page of its foreign-facing propaganda organs advertises China’s efforts to help different countries with goods and information while underscoring the superiority of Beijing’s approach.


China’s chief asset in its pursuit of global leadership—in the face of the coronavirus and more broadly—is the perceived inadequacy and inward focus of U.S. policy. The ultimate success of China’s pursuit, therefore, will depend as much on what happens in Washington as on what happens in Beijing. In the current crisis, Washington can still turn the tide if it proves capable of doing what is expected of a leader: managing the problem at home, supplying global public goods, and coordinating a global response.

The first of those tasks—stopping the spread of the disease and protecting vulnerable populations in the United States—is most urgent and largely a question of domestic governance rather than geopolitics. But how Washington goes about it will have geopolitical implications, and not just insofar as it does or does not reestablish confidence in the U.S. response. For example, if the federal government immediately supports and subsidizes expansion of domestic production of masks, respirators, and ventilators—a response befitting the wartime urgency of this pandemic—it would both save American lives and help others around the world by reducing the scarcity of global supplies.

While the United States isn’t currently able to meet the urgent material demands of the pandemic, its continuing global edge in the life sciences and biotechnology can be instrumental in finding a real solution to the crisis: a vaccine. The U.S. government can help by providing incentives to U.S. labs and companies to undertake a medical “Manhattan Project” to devise, rapidly test in clinical trials, and mass-produce a vaccine. Because these efforts are costly and require dauntingly high upfront investments, generous government financing and bonuses for successful vaccine production could make a difference. And it is worth noting that despite Washington’s mismanagement, state and local governments, nonprofit and religious organizations, universities, and companies are not waiting for the federal government to get its act together before taking action. U.S.-funded companies and researchers are already making progress toward a vaccine—though even in the best-case scenario, it will be some time before one is ready for widespread use.

Yet even as it focuses on efforts at home, Washington cannot simply ignore the need for a coordinated global response. Only strong leadership can solve global coordination problems related to travel restrictions, information sharing, and the flow of critical goods. The United States has successfully provided such leadership for decades, and it must do so again.

That leadership will also require effectively cooperating with China, rather than getting consumed by a war of narratives about who responded better. Little is gained by repeatedly emphasizing the origins of the coronavirus—which are already widely known despite China’s propaganda—or engaging in petty tit-for-tat rhetorical exchanges with Beijing. As Chinese officials accuse the U.S. military of spreading the virus and lambaste U.S. efforts, Washington should respond when necessary but generally resist the temptation to put China at the center of its coronavirus messaging. Most countries coping with the challenge would rather see a public message that stresses the seriousness of a shared global challenge and possible paths forward (including successful examples of coronavirus response in democratic societies such as Taiwan and South Korea). And there is much Washington and Beijing could do together for the world’s benefit: coordinating vaccine research and clinical trials as well as fiscal stimulus; sharing information; cooperating on industrial mobilization (on machines for producing critical respirator components or ventilator parts, for instance); and offering joint assistance to others.

Ultimately, the coronavirus might even serve as a wake-up call, spurring progress on other global challenges requiring U.S.-Chinese cooperation, such as climate change. Such a step should not be seen—and would not be seen by the rest of the world—as a concession to Chinese power. Rather, it would go some way toward restoring faith in the future of U.S. leadership. In the current crisis, as in geopolitics today more generally, the United States can do well by doing good.

Portugal não está preparado


Às 00:08 do dia 10 de março, o Observador publicou este meu artigo – Coronavírus e a política de combate socialista. Enviei-o às 00:50, do dia anterior e, em 24 horas, os números da simulação considerada no artigo ficaram desactualizados. Mas a minha crítica aos pressupostos de actuação do governo não.

Evolução dos casos confirmados

02/03/2020 – 2  / 03/03/2020 – 4 (100%) / 04/03/2020 – 6 (50%) / 05/03/2020 – 9 (50%) / 06/03/2020 – 13 (44%) / 07/03/2020 – 21 (62%) / 08/03/2020 – 30 (43%) / 09/03/2020 – 39 (30%) / 10/03/2020 – 41 (5%) / 11/03/2020 – 59 (44%) / 12/03/2020 – 78 (32%).


Às 21:47 de 11 de março, a Ministra da saúde apresenta os dados das 10:00 – 59 casos confirmados, 471 casos suspeitos (83 aguardavam análise laboratorial) e 3066 casos sobre vigilância.

Pelos vistos, durante as 11:47 horas que decorreram entre os dados da manhã e a comunicação da Ministra, nada se alterou em Portugal. Nem sequer se souberam os resultados dos casos que estavam em análise laboratorial.

E, para o Governo, quem manda no país é o Conselho Nacional de Saúde Pública.

Estão a gerir o COVID-19 como fizeram com os incêndios. Recusam-se a lidar com a realidade e a alterar a prioridade de actuação. Fazem tábua rasa dos exemplos dos outros países apesar de dizerem que aprendem com o exemplo dos outros. Mais valia estarem calados porque só transmitem insegurança. Não é possível que nada se tenha alterado em 24 horas. Significará isto a entrada em ruptura de material e o atingir do limite físico dos recursos humanos?

É impossível desmentir que existem semelhanças em todos países, quer relativamente a medidas que foram correctamente tomadas como às que não produziram os efeitos pretendidos. Em alguns países os resultados foram extraordinários, noutros uma desgraça. Será que Macau é só sorte? E que a Itália é só azar?

Não podemos correr esse risco. É necessário suspender o país.


Coronavírus e socialismo (3)

A irracionalidade da gestão do Governo relativamente ao coronavírus é evidente neste ponto.

Sabendo-se que há uma relação entre o número de casos novos e um período temporal para os mesmos, em vez de se precaveram para o que vai acontecer, tomam providencias para o que acontece.

Coronavírus e socialismo (2)

Dar primazia à precaução e prevenção devia ser a primeira opção. Como tal, a adopção duma política de contenção que implique o encerramento das escolas e universidades em todo o país é aconselhável.

Esta medida não irá resolver os problemas do contágio, mas poderá retardar não apenas a taxa de crescimento como também o alastrar do vírus para regiões dos país ainda não afectadas e criar uma janela de oportunidade adicional para os preparativos necessários para lidar com esta epidemia.

“Portugal está preparado”


Um dos comboios internacionais “Sud Expresso”, operado pela CP, teve de parar na estação do Entroncamento devido a uma passageira que sentia sintomas de Covid-19, vulgo coronavírus.

Naturalmente, a passageira foi levada para o Hospital. Todavia, após uma paragem de duas horas e meia, os restantes passageiros seguiram viagem para Paris.

Portugal está preparado para lidar com o coronavírus. E com a propagação do vírus também. Principalmente de dentro para fora (do país)…



Após assistir aos debates de André Ventura com Sá Fernandes e Sousa Tavares, três coisas parecem-me evidentes.

Primeiro, dificilmente haverá debate e discussão calma com André Ventura. O registo de postura e de comportamento dele nos temas políticos é o mesmo que utiliza para falar de futebol.

Segundo, André Ventura é muito mais inseguro do que parece. Se realmente estivesse certo do que diz não sentia a necessidade de interromper permanentemente o seu interlocutor para justificar toda e qualquer coisa que afirma ou que ouve.

Terceiro, André Ventura é impulsivo e, quando confrontado, entra em contradição.

Naturalmente, isto não significa que não tenha razão em nada. Mas aqueles que hoje forem referidos por Ventura, amanhã sofrerão as consequências…


Discurso encerramento Congresso PSD


O discurso de Rui Rio no encerramento do Congresso do PSD não passou de uma simples descrição dum diagnóstico. Referiu especialmente duas situações concretas: Reformas do sistema político e judicial. Pergunto-me se, em ambos os casos, não se terá inspirado nas propostas eleitorais da Iniciativa Liberal?

É curioso, ou talvez não, que Rio não tenha mencionado a questão do financiamento dos partidos, nomeadamente os benefícios fiscais, nem a polémica que envolve a justiça portuguesa devido à mais recente decisão da Procuradora-Geral da República.

Apesar das críticas feitas ao governo de António Costa, não deixei de ter a sensação que Rui Rio está disponível para substituir a geringonça por um novo bloco central. O tempo o dirá.

Ao reflectir sobre o que ouvi, percebo que não há grande distinção entre o PSD e o PS e que Portugal não mudará enquanto o socialismo e/ou a social-democracia forem poder.

Só políticas e medidas liberais o farão.

Castração química não é patriotismo.

AV Castr

O patriotismo, à semelhança de outros conceitos políticos e filosóficos, é objecto de inúmeras interpretações divergentes e de sobreposições de significados distintos. A mais usual e comum confusão é com nacionalismo.

Para estabelecer uma distinção entre estes dois conceitos, patriotismo e nacionalismo, vou fazer uso das definições de John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton (mais conhecido por Lord Acton). Segundo este pensador, patriotismo estava relacionado com os deveres morais que temos com uma comunidade política e, por sua vez, nacionalismo, envolvendo uma dimensão natural e física, ligava-se à raça.

Estas noções compreendem dois dos três elementos do Estado – povo e organização política. Com este ponto de partida não é difícil chegar ao terceiro elemento do Estado – território – que requer a utilização dum conceito que gravita à volta dos dois primeiros: pátria.

Ora, a origem etimológica da palavra “pátria” remete-nos para paterno, ou, neste caso, para terra paterna, independentemente de ser natal ou adoptiva, à qual estamos ligados por profundos laços afectivos, culturais e de pertença histórica. Como tal, ser patriota significa assumir os valores que emergem do legado do tempo.

O Chega tem todo o direito a defender a prisão perpétua e a castração química. Mas, quando André Ventura afirma o seu patriotismo e sustenta essa afirmação na defesa da prisão perpétua e da castração química, algo está profundamente errado.

Não sou licenciado em direito, mas do que sei da temática não creio que exista em Portugal qualquer tradição na prisão perpétua ou na castração química. Antes pelo contrário. Portugal foi um dos Estados percursores da abolição da prisão perpétua.

Apesar da prisão perpétua já não ser o que era nos Estados Unidos (EUA), nem de ter o efeito dissuasor que em tempos teve, André Ventura pode citar o exemplo dos EUA. Porém, ao defender os vínculos afectivos, culturais e de pertença histórica dos norte-americanos, André Ventura está a ser patriota? É evidente que não.

Advogar a mudança dum sistema judicial, incluindo alterações ao código penal, é uma posição legítima, mas jamais representará patriotismo e/ou será ser patriota.

P. S. – Por fim, sobre a castração química direi apenas o seguinte. Não há uma pessoa viva actualmente que não deva gratidão a Alan Turing.

da religião marxista


Kant, Herder, Feuerbach, Bauer, Hess e Heine referiram.

Marx reformulou: “A religião é o ópio do povo”.


Eu digo: O marxismo é a religião da política.

Eis um exemplo da crença!

Feliz Ano de 2009

Janus, embora omnipresente, está cada vez mais próximo. Os festejos da passagem de ano já passaram e nas tradicionais (?) mensagens de Ano Novo tivemos os mais rasgados elogios à esplendorosa governação neo-socialista do país.

Sim, neo-socialismo. O socialismo de Mário Soares foi enterrado há muito tempo. E os neo-socialistas não gostam de Soares. Renegam veementemente o 25 de novembro e desdenham integralmente a gestão soarista do IX governo. Mário Soares procurou resolver problemas na realidade. Os neo-socialistas não. Qual é o problema que não pode ser resolvido no Facebook, Twitter, etc.? E quando os fogos e as cheias se sucedem ou é impossível disfarçar as deficiências dos serviços do Estado, dizem que a culpa é do Passos Coelho e encomendam a Augusto Santos Silva mais um código de conduta.

O leitor poderá estar a indagar-se sobre duas coisas: Primeiro, quem foi o mentor do neo-socialismo em Portugal? Segundo, porquê feliz ano de 2009?

O mentor do neo-socialismo é José Sócrates. O homem que não acredita no pagamento de dívidas e a quem, apesar de não o fazerem em público, os governantes neo-socialistas chamam carinhosamente de “reverendíssimo Mestre”.

À semelhança de José Sócrates, de quem foram, na sua maioria, discípulos, os governantes neo-socialistas não acreditam no assumir das responsabilidades. Se fossem uma das personagens do Hotel Transilvânia, só poderiam ser a do “não fui eu”.

Porém, crêem-se exemplares e revestidos das mais altas virtudes: Imaculados, como se tivessem um registo invejável de actividade no sector privado – sem jamais terem recebido apoios e/ou subsídios estatais; Íntegros, pois nunca omitiram nenhuma informação a qualquer tribunal português; Incensuráveis, na isenção, regra que Raríssimas vezes foi quebrada, devido à incapacidade para obterem proveitos próprios ou para beneficiar o PS e/ou os seus militantes ou simpatizantes; Abnegados, passam noites em claro a pensar na redução da carga fiscal; Tolerantes, sempre disponíveis para o contraditório e para a defesa da liberdade de expressão, contagiando outros órgãos de soberania (a cruzada de Ferro Rodrigues contra a vergonha demonstra-o).

Há quem diga que governantes com este tipo de qualidades, mais cedo ou mais tarde, farão parte da Congregação dos Santos Ritos. Eu reitero estamos perante os deuses de Olisipo. A santidade é insuficiente.

Já a referência ao ano de 2009 deve-se às incontornáveis parecenças. Há dez anos o PS de Sócrates ganhava eleições sem maioria, Costa acabou de o fazer; Sócrates queria combater a corrupção, Costa também; Sócrates prometeu não aumentar a carga fiscal, Costa idem; Sócrates tinha o TGV (que já custou 200 milhões de euros aos contribuintes), Costa tem a ferrovia; Sócrates tinha as PPP, Costa não só as tem como as vai multiplicar sem as exigência que a lei impunha; Sócrates tinha os PEC, Costa tem as cativações; Sócrates queria um aeroporto, Costa também (com 5 metros de elevação); Sócrates tinha o Simplex, Costa tem um novo Simplex; Até os empresários eram maus. E, tal como Sócrates, Costa também tem Augusto Santos Silva no governo.

Nem Guterres ou Sócrates acertaram com as funções ideais para Santos Silva. António Costa foi lapidar. O Ministério dos Negócios Estrangeiros, onde quase tudo é confidencial, classificado e raramente transparente, é a escolha perfeita para um homem que não gosta nada de prestar contas.

Augusto Santos Silva é a expressão dum paradoxo. Há 25 anos que é um dos rostos do futuro do PS. Possuidor duma educação elevadíssima, recusa-se a fazer uso do insulto. Nunca insulta. São brincadeiras. Ele é o “ayatollah de Barcarena”, a “broa do Costa”, a “feira do gado”. Por vezes, pede desculpa, mas do que realmente gosta é de malhar. E não discrimina ninguém. Tanto malha na direita como na esquerda, embora confesse ter um carinho especial pelos plebeus e chiques do PCP e do BE.

Como gestor público viajou em executiva quando a lei o proibia e fez uso dum cartão de crédito com um plafond mensal de dez mil euros que não tinha pedido. Para além disso, contribuiu para um pântano, uma bancarrota e a falência dos serviços públicos. Não consta que alguma vez tenha tido iniciativa ou actividade empresarial, mas classifica os empresários de “fraquíssimos”. Se pedisse asilo à Coreia do Norte deixaria de ter preocupações com o tecido empresarial. E, quiçá, alcançaria mais um sonho sociológico.

As brincadeiras de Santos Silva – nem todas – levam à penitência. Trata-se dum comportamento recorrente. Dificilmente será a última vez. No entanto, persiste hirto e firme no caminho dos códigos de conduta. Há pessoas que definitivamente estão para além da redenção.

Dito isto, há uma coisa que António Costa não tem no governo: José Sócrates. Contudo, Sócrates nunca plantou sobreiros na areia. O D. Dinis também não. Como António Costa sabe tanto de gestão pública como de agricultura, espero que, com o revivalismo socretino, a “quoitra” não ande por aí.

PS – O OE 2020 tem mais de mil incoerências (será recorde?), mas o saldo não muda. E o PCP abstém-se nos 600 milhões para o novo banco. O socialismo tem futuro. Bom Ano Novo!


Publicado no Observador a 11 de janeiro de 2020

Honrar as vítimas de 2017

Dimensão fogos

Infelizmente, a tragédia que afecta a Austrália possibilita estabelecer algumas comparações. Até ontem, o total de área consumida pelos fogos na Austrália ascendia a 57465 km². Se tivermos em mente que a área de Portugal equivale a 92256 km², estamos a falar duma área correspondente a 62,49% do território continental português.

Em 2017, arderam em Portugal 4424 km², originando 115 mortes.

Em 2019, arderam na Austrália 57465 km², dos quais, até agora resultaram 26 mortes.

Também não há comparação possível entre a evacuação em massa realizada pelas autoridades australianas e aquela que foi conduzida pelo governo português em 2017.

Apesar as diferenças geográficas e das capacidades entre os dois países, não há como justificar o número de vítimas portuguesas.

Em boa verdade, as vitimas de 2017 continuam por honrar. E assim continuarão enquanto António Costa teimar em manter os pressupostos da reforma da protecção civil que realizou em 2006, como Ministro da Administração Interna de José Sócrates.

P.S. – outra diferença entre australianos e portugueses pode emergir da manutenção, ou não, de Scott Morrison como Primeiro-Ministro.

Como acabar com a democracia (…)

Como é que se acaba com a democracia? Pela “educação”, proibindo o contraditório e condicionando as perspectivas.

“Primeiro, desapareceram os clássicos. Da Ilíada a Dom Quixote, passando por Sófocles, Virgílio e Dante, a razia remeteu as obras fundadoras para os covis académicos e a insignificância pública. Sobra um certo reconhecimento popular da sua importância histórica, mas a opinião geral é a de que são obras datadas, sem lugar no mundo moderno, algumas até incompatíveis com a peculiar ideia de humanismo que vingou na sociedade.”


Vale a pena ler este texto – A geração mais ridícula de sempre – do Carlos Miguel Fernandes.

Steven Pinker: what can we expect from the 2020s?

by Steven Pinker
Financial Times

As “9” on the calendar rolls over to a fresh “0”, many people are desperate for a ray of optimism to pierce the gloom of the daily headlines. Having published a hundred graphs documenting human progress, I’m often asked for reassurance that we will overcome our problems and that the coming decade will not just bring intensifying crises and declines.

Progress is a historical fact. The numbers show that over the past seven decades humans have become (on average) longer-lived, healthier, safer, richer, freer, fairer, happier and smarter, not just in the west but worldwide.

Progress is not, however, a natural force. The laws of the universe are indifferent to our wellbeing, with vastly more things that can go wrong than go right. And our species evolved for advantages in the struggle to reproduce, not for happiness or wisdom. The first step in thinking about the future is to reconcile human progress with human nature.

The progress we have enjoyed has come from empowering the better angels of our nature. We are a cognitive species, with the wherewithal to solve problems and the linguistic means to pool solutions. We are a co-operative species, joining forces to achieve outcomes we cannot achieve individually. And we are an intermittently empath­etic species, capable of concern with the wellbeing of others.

These gifts were amplified by ideas and institutions advocated during the Enlightenment and entrenched after the second world war: reason, science, liberal democracy, declarations of rights, a free press, regulated markets, institutions of international co-operation.

But this progress is invisible to most people because they don’t get their understanding of the world from numbers; they get it from headlines. Journalism by its very nature conceals progress, because it presents sudden events rather than gradual trends. Most things that happen suddenly are bad: a war, a shooting, an epidemic, a scandal, a financial collapse. Most things that are good consist either of nothing happening — like a nation that is free of war or famine — or things that happen gradually but comp­ound over the years, such as declines in poverty, illiteracy and disease.

On top of this built-in pessimism, market forces add layers of glumness. People dread losses more than they appreciate gains, so prophets can stoke their vigilance by warning them about looming disasters they may have overlooked. Popular forecasters are not actuaries who extrapolate and adjust medium-term trends but playwrights who titillate our imaginations with high-concept tragedies and horror stories.

So for every Age of Aquarius with electricity too cheap to meter, there are a dozen dystopias. In my lifetime I have survived a thermonuclear third world war, a population bomb, depletion of oil and minerals, a civilisation-ending Y2K bug, weekly 9/11-scale terrorist attacks, and a mushroom cloud from Saddam Hussein. Those who recall the fall of the Berlin Wall as opening a window of optimism have bad memories. Experts at the time warned of revanchism in a unified Germany, a rising sun in Japan and a longing for the stability of a bipolar world. A 1994 Atlantic cover story foretold a “coming anarchy” of world wars, spiralling crime, exploding Aids and the break-up of Nigeria, China, India and the US.

So how can we think about the 2020s without melodrama? Progress does not literally have momentum, but many of its drivers are not going away. Science and medicine continue to explore their endless frontiers and should keep delivering increments of understanding that lengthen and enrich our lives. It’s true that the parent ideal of reason is under assault by fundamentalism, fake news and conspiracy theories, as it always has been. But the reach of reason is also expanding through online resources for education and fact-checking, and in movements for evidence-based medicine, policy and philanthropy.

In the moral sphere, the concept of human rights is self-expanding, since mistreatment of arbitrary categories of people withers under scrutiny. Success­ive generations have applied the ideal to ending religious persecution, despotism, sadistic punishments, legal slavery, callousness towards workers and discrimination against women, ethnic minorities and gay people. Recently it has been extended to sexual harassment, mistreatment of transgender people and oppressive laws in illiberal regions. (In the past decade 13 countries decriminalised homosexuality.) Even the most backward will face pressure to abandon archaic practices that keep girls out of school and women from driving.

By adopting the Sustainable Development Goals, the 193 countries of the UN committed themselves to audacious targets for slashing poverty, hunger, disease, illiteracy, gender inequality, war and other scourges. Progress toward these goals (other than climate) is continuing and can be tracked on sites like Our World in Data, Gapminder, Human Progress, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and Future Crunch. It is unlikely to do a sudden U-turn.

But — as the sustainable goalkeepers emphasise — “progress is possible, but it is not inevitable”. Poverty, disease and conflict are natural, not unnatural, parts of the human condition, and only the concerted application of reason, science and humanism can push back against their creep.

Progress can be threatened not just by complacency but by tribalism, authoritarianism and science denial. Populists such as Donald Trump embody these threats; he treats public discourse not as a means of collectively pursuing an objective reality but as a weapon with which to project dominance. He has blown off the scientific consensus on climate change and suppressed dissemin­ation of data on public health and the environment. He has sown ethnic hostility at home while rejecting international co-operation in favour of zero-sum economic or political combat. These insults to Enlightenment ideals are not just philosophical; they undermine concrete measures that have driven progress in the past, including democratic checks, free trade, environmental regulation and international agreements.

Though we cannot know how much damage authoritarian populism will do, there are reasons to think it is not the face of the future. Its support is greatest among rural, less-educated, ethnic-majority and older cohorts, all in demographic decline. And even countries that try to hide in a nationalist fortress will increasingly be besieged by crises that are inherently global and cannot be solved without international co-operation, including climate change, ocean degradation, pandemics, migrants, cyber crime, terrorism, piracy, dark money and nuclear proliferation.

Democracy, repeatedly declared moribund by schadenfreudian pundits, may be more resilient than they acknow­ledge. Everyone has read about backsliding in countries such as Turkey, Russia and Venezuela — but fewer have read about the gains in countries such as Georgia, Sri Lanka, Nigeria, Armenia, Malaysia and Ethiopia. According to the Varieties of Democracy scorecard, during the past decade the number of democracies in the world has hovered in a record-high range, with 99 (55 per cent) in 2018, compared to 87 in 1998, 51 in 1988, 40 in 1978, 36 in 1968 and 10 in 1918. And in the past year, pressure for democratisation has heated up in protests in Venezuela, Bolivia, Russia, Algeria, Sudan and Hong Kong.

Peace, too, may have staying power. Despite recent scares from Putinism and the Arab Spring, the long peace since the second world war keeps lengthening. Wars between great powers, once chronic, have vanished: the last one pitted the US against China more than 65 years ago. Wars between states continue their slide toward obsolescence, with no more than three in any year since 1945 and none since 2003. Though civil wars persist, the overall rate of deaths in wars of all kinds plunged a hundredfold between 1950 and 2005, from 22 per 100,000 people per year to 0.2. After rising to 1.5 in 2014 during the horrific Syrian civil war, it halved to 0.7 in 2018. And for all the warnings of a rising China that will inevitably fight its rival hegemon, that country has rested its fortunes on trade, contributed to UN peacekeeping, joined global and regional organisations, kept North Korea on a leash, assisted poor countries with infrastructure rather than weaponry, and not fought a war in 32 years.

Past performance is, of course, no guarantee of future results. Though history is not cyclical, it can be knocked backwards by nasty surprises. It’s happened before: the two world wars, the Spanish flu, the outbreak of Aids in Africa, surges in crime and civil war from the mid-1960s to the early 1990s, 9/11. The coming decade will surely bring more, though by definition we cannot know what they are. Of course, we know what some of the catastrophic threats to gradual progress are. As the bumper sticker notes, one nuclear bomb can ruin your whole day. Contrary to almost 75 years in which doomsday has supposedly been minutes away, no nuclear weapon has been detonated in war since Nagasaki. This suggests that the norms and safeguards against accidental and impulsive launches have done their job.

Still, the possible destruction is so horrific that we would be foolish to push our luck indefinitely. The low but disconcerting odds can be pushed still lower by putting the weapons on a longer fuse, and by reducing their number below the threshold of a nuclear winter and eventually to zero. Today’s leaders of nuclear states are not exactly moving in this direction, and it’s inexcusable that the future of civilisation is a non-issue in an electoral arena obsessed with minor gaffes and scandals.

Also possibly calamitous are pandemics that could hop continents and cybersabotage that could bring down the internet. Here too the safeguards have worked so far, but experts say they must be strengthened.

In a category of its own is climate change, which is more of an approaching asteroid than a spinning roulette wheel. It would be irresponsible to predict either that everything will turn out OK or that we’re cooked. Climate salvation, if it comes at all, will not primarily come from shaming oil companies or making personal sacrifices. It will require breakthroughs in policy and technology.

The atmosphere is a global commons, where no individual or country has an incentive to stint on emissions because it would suffer all the cost but no benefit unless everyone else makes the same sacrifice. Policies that put a price on carbon are necessary to avert this tragedy, but we have learnt that people react to them not by weatherstripping their windows but by donning yellow vests and setting cars on fire. Such policies must be sweetened with rebates or hidden in dark layers of the economy.

But I suspect that it will be more effective to make clean energy cheap than dirty energy expensive. In the short term this could involve a rapid buildout of nuclear power, as France and Sweden did in the past. In the longer term it will require breakthroughs in storing the intermittent energy from wind and sun, in bioenergy, and in a new generation of small modular fission or fusion reactors. Technological advances will also be needed to electrify industry, reduce greenhouse gases from agriculture, and capture the CO2 already in the atmosphere.

You can’t worry about everything, and my appreciation of the complexity of human nature leaves me sceptical about another common fear: that the 2020s will see a brave new world of high-tech mind-hacking.

Predictions from the 1990s that yuppie parents would soon implant genes for intelligence or musical talent in their unborn children seemed plausible in a decade filled with discoveries of the gene for X. But these findings were destined for the Journal of Irreproducible Results, and today we know that heritable skills are the products of hundreds of genes, each with a minuscule effect, and many with deleterious side-effects. Micromanaging an embryo’s genome will always be complex and risky. Given that most parents are squeamish about genetically modified applesauce, it’s unlikely they would roll the dice for genetically modified children.

Brain-computer interfaces, except as treatments for paralysis or other disabilities, also strike me as dubious, like trying to adjust your iPhone settings with a soldering gun. Our thoughts are embodied in intricate patterns of connectivity in networks of millions of neurons, using a code that neuroscientists have not cracked. Since we already come equipped with pinpoint interfaces to our neural networks — eyes, ears, fingers, tongues — I doubt that healthy people will see the need for another hole in their head or for a foreign object lodged in their brain.

Some tech prophets sow fear about an advanced artificial intelligence subduing its creators. Others warn of an AI laying waste to the world while single-mindedly pursuing a goal, like inducing tumours in human guinea pigs to find a cure for cancer or asphyxiating us all to de-acidify the oceans. But the first fear projects human sins like greed and dominance on to the concept of intelligence. A human-made intelligent system is a problem-solving tool, not a rival primate. And the second refutes itself. It assumes that engineers are so smart that they could invent a system that can cure cancer and undo pollution but so stupid they would forget to give it any other conditions or test how it works before granting it omnipotence over the planet. Moreover, a system that monomaniacally pursued a single goal may be A, but it’s hardly I.

And then there’s the prospect that fake news and targeted political ads will hijack people’s minds and obliterate democracy. Though the spread of disinformation must be combated, research on political messaging shows that it’s not so easy to change people’s minds. Even traditional TV and direct-mail ads are surprisingly ineffective, and in the 2016 American election fake news and bot-generated tweets made up a tiny fraction of online political traffic and were mostly consumed by zealots. (Few swing voters made up their minds upon reading that Hillary Clinton ran a child sex ring out of a pizzeria.) For that matter online advertising, for all its claims to data-driven microtargeting, is dubiously effective, serving readers with ads for products they have already bought and ads for products they would never buy (like the trunnion tables and high-tech dreidels regularly interpolated into my daily news).

Prudence and experience compel me to hedge these reflections on the next decade. Like soothsayers before me, I will surely be wrong in some of my expectations about continuing progress and the threats it does and does not face. But I am confident in one thing: the 2020s will be filled with problems, crises and discord, just like the decades before and after. Some people are surprised to hear this champion of progress abjure any hope for a future free of trouble and strife. Why can’t we build on our accomplishments and aspire to utopia?

The reason is that we are not blank slates. The hard-won knowledge that has allowed us to marginalise our superstitions and biases must be relearned every generation in a Sisyphean struggle, never perfectly.

Also, human nature imposes permanent trade-offs among the things we value. People differ in talent and temperament, so even in a fair system they will end up unequal, and what pleases some will inevitably anger others. People are not infinitely wise, so when they are given their freedom, some will use it to screw up their lives, and when they are empowered in a democracy, they may choose leaders and policies that are bad for them. And people are not infinitely selfless. Any policy that makes most people better off will make some people worse off (say, coal executives), and they will not sacrifice their interests for the good of the group.

Yet the fact of progress shows that these trade-offs do not pin us to a constant level of suffering. Knowledge and technology can bend the trade-offs to give us more of each good. Education, a free press and civil society can remind us that the compromises of democracy are better than the alternatives. And (as physicist David Deutsch has noted) problems are inevitable, but problems are solvable, and solutions create new problems that can be solved in their turn.


A grande família socialista …

Centeno excedent

Como é que um socialista consegue um excedente orçamental?
Aumenta os impostos.

Quem é que paga o excedente orçamental?
Os contribuintes e as suas famílias.

E que faz um socialista com um excedente orçamental?
Alimenta a grande família socialista



Dizem que é uma espécie de …

No que respeita à dívida vencida, o Estado deve ao SNS 1,3 mil milhões.

Daí que António Costa tenha anunciado a boa nova de 800 milhões.

É a isto que se chama invessocialismo, uma espécie de investimento, que nunca soluciona nada mas que garante a continuação do desperdício.


P.S. – Cuidado com a promessas socialistas.

O Neo-socialismo perdeu

Eleiçoes UK2019

Não quero tirar nenhum mérito à vitória de Boris Johnson, que está (como já estava) inteiramente legitimado para formalizar a saída da União Europeia. Porém, estou em crer que os britânicos, mais do que a questão do Brexit, recusaram o socialismo de Jeremy Corbyn.

O neo-socialismo, que diluiu as diferenças entre o socialismo e o comunismo, teve uma pesada derrota e demonstra ser uma receita errada.

Estou igualmente em crer que semelhante resultado irá verificar-se nos Estados Unidos. Nem Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, nem Bernie Sanders são liberais. São socialistas que se infiltraram no Partido Democrata. Poderão ter algum sucesso ao nível estadual, mas dificilmente conseguirão ser eleitos para o poder executivo federal.

A austeridade das cativações

Sabemos que a existência é caracterizada por um processo não-linear. Daí que não seja de estranhar que a convivência social também seja ambígua. E que dizer do percursos dos políticos, como governantes ou oposição, e dos partidos e dos seus respectivos líderes? A passagem do tempo até pode exigir decisões diferentes. Contudo, estas dependerão da coerência para serem credíveis. Infelizmente, a regra e a conduta demonstram que os princípios são esmagados pelos interesses. Sobretudo pelos interesses partidários.

Eis o exemplo do Mário Soares.
– “Quem vê, do estrangeiro, este esforço e a coragem com que estamos a aplicar as medidas impopulares aprecia e louva o esforço feito por este governo” (JN, 28 de Abril de 1984);
– “Portugal habituara-se a viver, demasiado tempo, acima dos seus meios e recursos” (JN, 28 de Abril de 1984);
– “O que sucede é que uma empresa quando entra em falência… deve pura e simplesmente falir. (…) Só uma concepção estatal e colectivista da sociedade é que atribui ao Estado essa responsabilidade” (JN, 28 de Abril de 1984);
– “Os problemas económicos em Portugal são fáceis de explicar e a única coisa a fazer é apertar o cinto” (DN, 27 de Maio de 1984);
– “A Associação 25 de Abril é qualquer coisa que não devia ser permitida a militares em serviço” (La Republica, 28 de Abril de 1984);
– “Basta circular pelo País e atentar nas inscrições nas paredes. Uma verdadeira agressão quotidiana que é intolerável que não seja punida na lei. Sê-lo-á.” (RTP, 31 de Maio de 1984);
– “A política de austeridade, dura mas necessária, para readquirirmos o controlo da situação financeira, reduzirmos os défices e nos pormos ao abrigo de humilhantes dependências exteriores, sem que o pais caminharia, necessariamente para a bancarrota e o desastre” (RTP, 1 de Junho de 1984);
– “A CGTP concentra-se em reivindicações políticas com menosprezo dos interesses dos trabalhadores que pretende representar” (RTP, 1 de Junho de 1984);

E que diz António Costa? Cativações não são austeridade.

The Clash of Capitalisms

The Real Fight for the Global Economy’s Future
by Branko Milanovic – Foreign Affairs (January/February 2020)

Capitalism rules the world. With only the most minor exceptions, the entire globe now organizes economic production the same way: labor is voluntary, capital is mostly in private hands, and production is coordinated in a decentralized way and motivated by profit.

There is no historical precedent for this triumph. In the past, capitalism—whether in Mesopotamia in the sixth century BC, the Roman Empire, Italian city-states in the Middle Ages, or the Low Countries in the early modern era—had to coexist with other ways of organizing production. These alternatives included hunting and gathering, small-scale farming by free peasants, serfdom, and slavery. Even as recently as 100 years ago, when the first form of globalized capitalism appeared with the advent of large-scale industrial production and global trade, many of these other modes of production still existed. Then, following the Russian Revolution in 1917, capitalism shared the world with communism, which reigned in countries that together contained about one-third of the human population. Now, however, capitalism is the sole remaining mode of production.

It’s increasingly common to hear commentators in the West describe the current order as “late capitalism,” as if the economic system were on the verge of disappearing. Others suggest that capitalism is facing a revived threat from socialism. But the ineluctable truth is that capitalism is here to stay and has no competitor. Societies around the world have embraced the competitive and acquisitive spirit hardwired into capitalism, without which incomes decline, poverty increases, and technological progress slows. Instead, the real battle is within capitalism, between two models that jostle against each other.

Often in human history, the triumph of one system or religion is soon followed by a schism between different variants of the same credo. After Christianity spread across the Mediterranean and the Middle East, it was riven by ferocious ideological disputes, which eventually produced the first big fissure in the religion, between the Eastern and Western churches. So, too, with Islam, which after its dizzying expansion swiftly divided into Shiite and Sunni branches. And communism, capitalism’s twentieth-century rival, did not long remain a monolith, splitting into Soviet and Maoist versions. In this respect, capitalism is no different: two models now hold sway, differing in their political, economic, and social aspects.

In the states of western Europe and North America and a number of other countries, such as India, Indonesia, and Japan, a liberal meritocratic form of capitalism dominates: a system that concentrates the vast majority of production in the private sector, ostensibly allows talent to rise, and tries to guarantee opportunity for all through measures such as free schooling and inheritance taxes. Alongside that system stands the state-led, political model of capitalism, which is exemplified by China but also surfaces in other parts of Asia (Myanmar, Singapore, Vietnam), in Europe (Azerbaijan, Russia), and in Africa (Algeria, Ethiopia, Rwanda). This system privileges high economic growth and limits individual political and civic rights.

These two types of capitalism—with the United States and China, respectively, as their leading examples—invariably compete with each other because they are so intertwined. Asia, western Europe, and North America, which together are home to 70 percent of the world’s population and 80 percent of its economic output, are in constant contact through trade, investment, the movement of people, the transfer of technology, and the exchange of ideas. Those connections and collisions have bred a competition between the West and parts of Asia that is made more intense by the differences in their respective models of capitalism. And it is this competition—not a contest between capitalism and some alternative economic system—that will shape the future of the global economy.

In 1978, almost 100 percent of China’s economic output came from the public sector; that figure has now dropped to less than 20 percent. In modern China, as in the more traditionally capitalist countries of the West, the means of production are mostly in private hands, the state doesn’t impose decisions about production and pricing on companies, and most workers are wage laborers. China scores as positively capitalistic on all three counts.

Capitalism now has no rival, but these two models offer significantly different ways of structuring political and economic power in a society. Political capitalism gives greater autonomy to political elites while promising high growth rates to ordinary people. China’s economic success undermines the West’s claim that there is a necessary link between capitalism and liberal democracy.

Liberal capitalism has many well-known advantages, the most important being democracy and the rule of law. These two features are virtues in themselves, and both can be credited with encouraging faster economic development by promoting innovation and social mobility. Yet this system faces an enormous challenge: the emergence of a self-perpetuating upper class coupled with growing inequality. This now represents the gravest threat to liberal capitalism’s long-term viability.

At the same time, China’s government and those of other political capitalist states need to constantly generate economic growth to legitimize their rule, a compulsion that might become harder and harder to fulfill. Political capitalist states must also try to limit corruption, which is inherent to the system, and its complement, galloping inequality. The test of their model will be its ability to restrain a growing capitalist class that often chafes against the overweening power of the state bureaucracy.

As other parts of the world (notably African countries) attempt to transform their economies and jump-start growth, the tensions between the two models will come into sharper focus. The rivalry between China and the United States is often presented in simply geopolitical terms, but at its core, it is like the grinding of two tectonic plates whose friction will define how capitalism evolves in this century.

The global dominance of capitalism is one of two epochal changes that the world is living through. The other is the rebalancing of economic power between the West and Asia. For the first time since the Industrial Revolution, incomes in Asia are edging closer to those in western Europe and North America. In 1970, the West produced 56 percent of world economic output and Asia (including Japan) produced only 19 percent. Today, only three generations later, those proportions have shifted to 37 percent and 43 percent—thanks in large part to the staggering economic growth of countries such as China and India.

Capitalism in the West generated the information and communications technologies that enabled a new wave of globalization in the late twentieth century, the period when Asia began to narrow the gap with the “global North.” Anchored initially in the wealth of Western economies, globalization led to an overhaul of moribund structures and huge growth in many Asian countries. Global income inequality has dropped significantly from what it was in the 1990s, when the global Gini coefficient (a measure of income distribution, with zero representing perfect equality and one representing perfect inequality) was 0.70; today, it is roughly 0.60. It will drop further as incomes continue to rise in Asia.

Although inequality between countries has lessened, inequality within countries—especially those in the West—has grown. The United States’ Gini coefficient has risen from 0.35 in 1979 to about 0.45 today. This increase in inequality within countries is in large part a product of globalization and its effects on the more developed economies in the West: the weakening of trade unions, the flight of manufacturing jobs, and wage stagnation.

Liberal meritocratic capitalism came into being in the last 40 years. It can be best understood in comparison to two other variants: classical capitalism, which was predominant in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and social democratic capitalism, which defined the welfare states in western Europe and North America from World War II to the early 1980s.

Unlike in the classical capitalism of the nineteenth century, when fortunes were to be made from owning, not working, rich individuals in the present system tend to be both capital rich and labor rich—that is, they generate their income both from investments and from work. They also tend to marry and make families with partners of similar educational and financial backgrounds, a phenomenon sociologists call “assortative mating.” Whereas the people at the top of the income distribution under classical capitalism were often financiers, today many of those at the top are highly paid managers, Web designers, physicians, investment bankers, and other elite professionals. These people work in order to earn their large salaries, but whether through an inheritance or their own savings, they also draw a great deal of income from their financial assets.

In liberal meritocratic capitalism, societies are more equal than they were during the phase of classical capitalism, women and ethnic minorities are more empowered to enter the workforce, and welfare provisions and social transfers (paid out of taxes) are employed in an attempt to mitigate the worst ravages of acute concentrations of wealth and privilege. Liberal meritocratic capitalism inherited those last measures from its direct predecessor, social democratic capitalism.

That model was structured around industrial labor and featured the strong presence of unions, which played a huge role in shrinking inequality. Social democratic capitalism presided over an era that saw measures such as the GI Bill and the 1950 Treaty of Detroit (a sweeping, union-negotiated contract for autoworkers) in the United States and economic booms in France and Germany, where incomes rose. Growth was distributed fairly evenly; populations benefited from better access to health care, housing, and inexpensive education; and more families could climb up the economic ladder.

But the nature of work has changed significantly under globalization and liberal meritocratic capitalism, especially with the winnowing away of the industrial working class and the weakening of labor unions. Since the late twentieth century, the share of capital income in total income has been rising—that is, an increasing portion of GDP belongs to the profits made by big corporations and the already wealthy. This tendency has been quite strong in the United States, but it has also been documented in most other countries, whether developing or developed. A rising share of capital income in total income implies that capital and capitalists are becoming more important than labor and workers, and so they acquire more economic and political power. It also means an increase in inequality, because those who draw a large share of their income from capital tend to be rich.

While the current system has produced a more diverse elite (in terms of both gender and race), the setup of liberal capitalism has the consequence of at once deepening inequality and screening that inequality behind the veil of merit. More plausibly than their predecessors in the Gilded Age, the wealthiest today can claim that their standing derives from the virtue of their work, obscuring the advantages they have gained from a system and from social trends that make economic mobility harder and harder. The last 40 years have seen the growth of a semipermanent upper class that is increasingly isolated from the rest of society. In the United States, the top ten percent of wealth holders own more than 90 percent of the financial assets. The ruling class is highly educated, many of its members work, and their income from that labor tends to be high. They tend to believe that they deserve their high standing.

These elites invest heavily both in their progeny and in establishing political control. By investing in their children’s education, those at the top enable future generations of their kind to maintain high labor income and the elite status that is traditionally associated with knowledge and education. By investing in political influence—in elections, think tanks, universities, and so on—they ensure that they are the ones who determine the rules of inheritance, so that financial capital is easily transferred to the next generation. The two together (acquired education and transmitted capital) lead to the reproduction of the ruling class.

The formation of a durable upper class is impossible unless that class exerts political control. In the past, this happened naturally; the political class came mostly from the rich, and so there was a certain commonality of views and shared interests between politicians and the rest of the rich. That is no longer the case: politicians come from various social classes and backgrounds, and many of them share sociologically very little, if anything, with the rich. Presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama in the United States and Prime Ministers Margaret Thatcher and John Major in the United Kingdom all came from modest backgrounds but quite effectively supported the interests of the one percent.

In a modern democracy, the rich use their political contributions and the funding or direct ownership of think tanks and media outlets to purchase economic policies that benefit them: lower taxes on high incomes, bigger tax deductions, higher capital gains through tax cuts to the corporate sector, fewer regulations, and so on. These policies, in turn, increase the likelihood that the rich will stay on top, and they form the ultimate link in the chain that runs from the higher share of capital in a country’s net income to the creation of a self-serving upper class. If the upper class did not try to co-opt politics, it would still enjoy a very strong position; when it spends on electoral processes and builds its own civil society institutions, the position of the upper class becomes all but unassailable.

As the elites in liberal meritocratic capitalist systems become more cordoned off, the rest of society grows resentful. Malaise in the West about globalization is largely caused by the gap between the small number of elites and the masses, who have seen little benefit from globalization and, accurately or not, regard global trade and immigration as the cause of their ills. This situation eerily resembles what used to be called the “disarticulation” of Third World societies in the 1970s, such as was seen in Brazil, Nigeria, and Turkey. As their bourgeoisies were plugged into the global economic system, most of the hinterland was left behind. The disease that was supposed to affect only developing countries seems to have hit the global North.

In Asia, globalization doesn’t have that same reputation: according to polls, 91 percent of people in Vietnam, for instance, think globalization is a force for good. Ironically, it was communism in countries such as China and Vietnam that laid the groundwork for their eventual capitalist transformation. The Chinese Communist Party came to power in 1949 by prosecuting both a national revolution (against foreign domination) and a social revolution (against feudalism), which allowed it to sweep away all ideologies and customs that were seen as slowing economic development and creating artificial class divisions. (The much less radical Indian independence struggle, in contrast, never succeeded in erasing the caste system.) These two simultaneous revolutions were a precondition, over the long term, for the creation of an indigenous capitalist class that would pull the economy forward. The communist revolutions in China and Vietnam played functionally the same role as the rise of the bourgeoisie in nineteenth-century Europe.

In China, the transformation from quasi feudalism to capitalism took place swiftly, under the control of an extremely powerful state. In Europe, where feudal structures were eradicated slowly over centuries, the state played a far less important role in the shift to capitalism. Given this history, then, it is no surprise that capitalism in China, Vietnam, and elsewhere in the region has so often had an authoritarian edge.

The system of political capitalism has three defining features. First, the state is run by a technocratic bureaucracy, which owes its legitimacy to economic growth. Second, although the state has laws, these are applied arbitrarily, much to the benefit of elites, who can decline to apply the law when it is inconvenient or apply it with full force to punish opponents. The arbitrariness of the rule of law in these societies feeds into political capitalism’s third defining feature: the necessary autonomy of the state. In order for the state to act decisively, it needs to be free from legal constraints. The tension between the first and second principles—between technocratic bureaucracy and the loose application of the law—produces corruption, which is an integral part of the way the political capitalist system is set up, not an anomaly.

Since the end of the Cold War, these characteristics have helped supercharge the growth of ostensibly communist countries in Asia. Over a 27-year period ending in 2017, China’s growth rate averaged about eight percent and Vietnam’s averaged around six percent, compared with just two percent in the United States.

The flip side of China’s astronomic growth has been its massive increase in inequality. From 1985 to 2010, the country’s Gini coefficient leapt from 0.30 to around 0.50—higher than that of the United States and closer to the levels found in Latin America. Inequality in China has risen starkly within both rural and urban areas, and it has risen even more so in the country as a whole because of the increasing gap between those areas. That growing inequality is evident in every divide—between rich and poor provinces, high-skilled workers and low-skilled workers, men and women, and the private sector and the state sector.

Notably, there has also been an increase in China in the share of income from privately owned capital, which seems to be as concentrated there as in the advanced market economies of the West. A new capitalist elite has formed in China. In 1988, skilled and unskilled industrial workers, clerical staff, and government officials accounted for 80 percent of those in the top five percent of income earners. By 2013, their share had fallen by almost half, and business owners (20 percent) and professionals (33 percent) had become dominant.

A remarkable feature of the new capitalist class in China is that it has emerged from the soil, so to speak, as almost four-fifths of its members report having had fathers who were either farmers or manual laborers. This intergenerational mobility is not surprising in view of the nearly complete obliteration of the capitalist class after the Communists’ victory in 1949 and then again during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s. But that mobility may not continue in the future, when—given the concentration of ownership of capital, the rising costs of education, and the importance of family connections—the intergenerational transmission of wealth and power should begin to mirror what is observed in the West.

Compared with its Western counterparts, however, this new capitalist class in China may be more of a class by itself than a class for itself. China’s many byzantine forms of ownership—which at the local and national levels blur the lines between public and private—allow the political elite to restrain the power of the new capitalist, economic elite.

For millennia, China has been home to strong, fairly centralized states that have always prevented the merchant class from becoming an independent center of power. According to the French scholar Jacques Gernet, wealthy merchants under the Song dynasty in the thirteenth century never succeeded in creating a self-conscious class with shared interests because the state was always there ready to check their power. Although merchants continued to prosper as individuals (as the new capitalists largely do nowadays in China), they never formed a coherent class with its own political and economic agenda or with interests that were forcefully defended and propagated. This scenario, according to Gernet, differed markedly from the situation around the same time in Italian merchant republics and the Low Countries. This pattern of capitalists enriching themselves without exercising political power will likely continue in China and in other political capitalist countries, as well.

As China expands its role on the international stage, its form of capitalism is invariably coming into conflict with the liberal meritocratic capitalism of the West. Political capitalism might supplant the Western model in many countries around the world.

The advantage of liberal capitalism resides in its political system of democracy. Democracy is desirable in itself, of course, but it also has an instrumental advantage. By requiring constant consultation of the population, democracy provides a powerful corrective to economic and social trends that may be detrimental to the common good. Even if people’s decisions sometimes result in policies that reduce the rate of economic growth, increase pollution, or lower life expectancy, democratic decision-making should, within a relatively limited time period, correct such developments.

Political capitalism, for its part, promises much more efficient management of the economy and higher growth rates. The fact that China has been by far the most economically successful country in the past half century places it in a position to legitimately try to export its economic and political institutions. It is doing that most prominently through the Belt and Road Initiative, an ambitious project to link several continents through improved, Chinese-financed infrastructure. The initiative represents an ideological challenge to the way the West has been handling economic development around the world. Whereas the West focuses on building institutions, China is pouring money into building physical things. The BRI will link partnered countries into a Chinese sphere of influence. Beijing even has plans to handle future investment disputes under the jurisdiction of a Chinese-created court—quite a reversal for a country whose “century of humiliation” in the nineteenth century was capped by Americans and Europeans in China refusing to be subject to Chinese laws.

Many countries may welcome being part of the BRI. Chinese investment will bring roads, harbors, railways, and other badly needed infrastructure, and without the type of conditions that often accompany Western investment. China has no interest in the domestic policies of recipient nations; instead, it emphasizes equality in the treatment of all countries. This is an approach that many officials in smaller countries find particularly attractive. China is also seeking to build international institutions, such as the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank, following the playbook of the United States after World War II, when Washington spearheaded the creation of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

Beijing has another reason to be more active on the international stage. If China refused to advertise its own institutions while the West continued to advance the values of liberal capitalism in China, large swaths of the Chinese population could become more attracted to Western institutions. The current disturbances in Hong Kong have failed to spread anywhere else in China, but they do illustrate real discontent with the arbitrary application of the law, discontent that may not be confined to the former British colony. The blatant censorship of the Internet is also deeply unpopular among the young and educated.

By projecting the advantages of its political capitalism abroad, China will reduce the appeal of the Western liberal model to its own citizens. Its international activities are essentially matters of domestic survival. Whatever formal or informal arrangement Beijing reaches with states that embrace political capitalism, China is bound to exercise increasing influence on international institutions, which in the past two centuries have been built exclusively by Western states, to serve Western interests.

John Rawls, the consummate philosopher of modern liberalism, argued that a good society ought to give absolute priority to basic liberties over wealth and income. Experience shows, however, that many people are willing to trade democratic rights for greater income. One need simply observe that within companies, production is generally organized in the most hierarchical fashion, not the most democratic. Workers do not vote on the products they would like to produce or on how they would like to produce them. Hierarchy produces greater efficiency and higher wages. “Technique is the boundary of democracy,” the French philosopher Jacques Ellul wrote more than half a century ago. “What technique wins, democracy loses. If we had engineers who were popular with the workers, they would be ignorant of machinery.” The same analogy can be extended to society as a whole: democratic rights can be, and have been, given up willingly for higher incomes.

In today’s commercialized and hectic world, citizens rarely have the time, the knowledge, or the desire to get involved in civic matters unless the issues directly concern them. It is telling that in the United States, one of the oldest democracies in the world, the election of a president, who, in many respects in the American system, has the prerogatives of an elected king, is not judged of sufficient importance to bestir more than half the electorate to go to the polls. In this respect, political capitalism asserts its superiority.

The problem, however, is that in order to prove its superiority and ward off a liberal challenge, political capitalism needs to constantly deliver high rates of growth. So while liberal capitalism’s advantages are natural, in that they are built into the setup of the system, the advantages of political capitalism are instrumental: they must be constantly demonstrated. Political capitalism starts with the handicap of needing to prove its superiority empirically. It faces two further problems, as well. Relative to liberal capitalism, political capitalism has a greater tendency to generate bad policies and bad social outcomes that are difficult to reverse because those in power do not have an incentive to change course. It can also easily engender popular dissatisfaction because of its systemic corruption in the absence of a clear rule of law.

Political capitalism needs to sell itself on the grounds of providing better societal management, higher rates of growth, and more efficient administration (including the administration of justice). Unlike liberal capitalism, which can take a more relaxed attitude toward temporary problems, political capitalism must be permanently on its toes. This may, however, be seen as an advantage from a social Darwinist point of view: because of the constant pressure to deliver more to its constituents, political capitalism might hone its ability to manage the economic sphere and to keep on delivering, year in, year out, more goods and services than its liberal counterpart. What appears at first as a defect may prove to be an advantage.

But will China’s new capitalists forever acquiesce to a status quo in which their formal rights can be limited or revoked at any moment and in which they are under the constant tutelage of the state? Or, as they become stronger and more numerous, will they organize, influence the state, and, finally, take it over, as happened in the United States and Europe? The Western path as sketched by Karl Marx seems to have an ironclad logic: economic power tends to emancipate itself and to look after, or impose, its own interests. But the track record of nearly 2,000 years of an unequal partnership between the Chinese state and Chinese business presents a major obstacle to China’s following the same path as the West.

The key question is whether China’s capitalists will come to control the state and if, in order to do so, they will use representative democracy. In the United States and Europe, capitalists used that cure very carefully, administering it in homeopathic doses as the franchise slowly expanded and withholding it whenever there was a potential threat to the property-owning classes (as in Great Britain after the French Revolution, when the right to vote became even more tightly restricted). Chinese democracy, if it comes, will likely resemble democracy in the rest of the world today, in the legal sense of mandating one vote per person. Yet given the weight of history and the precarious nature and still limited size of China’s propertied classes, it is not certain that rule by the middle class could be maintained in China. It failed in the first part of the twentieth century under the Republic of China (which held sway over much of the mainland from 1912 to 1949); only with great difficulty will it be reestablished with greater success 100 years later.

What does the future hold for Western capitalist societies? The answer hinges on whether liberal meritocratic capitalism will be able to move toward a more advanced stage, what might be called “people’s capitalism,” in which income from both factors of production, capital and labor, would be more equally distributed. This would require broadening meaningful capital ownership way beyond the current top ten percent of the population and making access to the top schools and the best-paying jobs independent of one’s family background.

To achieve greater equality, countries should develop tax incentives to encourage the middle class to hold more financial assets, implement higher inheritance taxes for the very rich, improve free public education, and establish publicly funded electoral campaigns. The cumulative effect of these measures would be to make more diffuse the ownership of capital and skills in society. People’s capitalism would be similar to social democratic capitalism in its concern with inequality, but it would aspire to a different kind of equality; instead of focusing on redistributing income, this model would seek greater equality in assets, both financial and in terms of skills. Unlike social democratic capitalism, it would require only modest redistributive policies (such as food stamps and housing benefits) because it would have already achieved a greater baseline of equality.

If they fail to address the problem of growing inequality, liberal meritocratic capitalist systems risk journeying down another path—not toward socialism but toward a convergence with political capitalism. The economic elite in the West will become more insulated, wielding more untrammeled power over ostensibly democratic societies, much in the same way that the political elite in China lords over that country. The more that economic and political power in liberal capitalist systems become fused together, the more liberal capitalism will become plutocratic, taking on some features of political capitalism. In the latter model, politics is the way to win economic benefits; in plutocratic—formerly liberal meritocratic—capitalism, economic power will conquer politics. The endpoint of the two systems will be the same: the closing ranks of a privileged few and the reproduction of that elite indefinitely into the future.

Nós + Planeta + AQ = ? (2)

Aquecimento global. Há uns tempos escrevi algo sobre este tema: Nós e o Planeta

Hoje, numa troca de impressões no facebook, insisti no assunto perguntando ao meu interlocutor o seguinte: mesmo que venha a ser definitivamente demonstrado que o aquecimento global não é causado por acção humana, qual é o problema de os governos tomarem medidas para cuidar do planeta?”

E acrescento. Qual é o problema de cada um de nós ajudar a cuidar do planeta?

Mas é praticamente inútil discutir o assunto. O tema do aquecimento global está completamente polarizado e ambos os lados apresentam estudos com dados científicos argumentando que os respectivos cientistas é que são bons.

Infelizmente, e apesar das dimensões científicas intrínsecas ao tema, o elemento que começa a ter mais preponderância é o combate ideológico. Se, de facto, o principal foco de atenção está na ideologia, penso que uma das melhores maneiras de contrariar o aproveitamento político da esquerda seria silenciar esse aproveitamento. Como? Pela palavra, dizendo que apesar de não concordar com o factor antropogénico como causa para o aquecimento global, e pela acção manifestando a disponibilidade para cuidar do planeta.

Por um país ainda mais miserável


“É óbvio que Portugal e os EUA têm sistemas de impostos muito diferentes, mas para um investidor, o que interessa é o potencial do investimento gerar retorno. O sistema de impostos português e a forma como a economia é gerida condenam a maior parte do território nacional a perdas prediais.”

Neste artigo, a Rita Carreira sintetiza muito bem quer o modo de ser português (a inveja) como a visão do pensamento de esquerda (preferência pela pobreza sobre e riqueza).

Os socialistas não desejam um país rico, preferem um país pobre e suspiram por um país ainda mais miserável.

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