Young and restful
Brazilian teenagers and Brazil's generation X are not different from their counterpart in the US. The twentysomething crowd loves comfort without unrestrained consumption, freedom but not anarchy, self realization without satisfying all its whims. They want a fulfilling job and career and a happy family. And what a Brazilian youngster wouldn't like to be at all? A politician.
Katheryn Gallant
They think that they're funny and original. They trust themselves -- and distrust politicians as much as a tennis net would distrust a ball. They want to go to college and have a successful career. Although money isn't everything , they nevertheless yearn for a comfortable life, a nice home, a happy family. They watch TV, listen to CDs and go out a lot with their friends. They aren't into long philosophical discussions. They devour hamburgers and pizza. They are also far more at home with computers than their parents, or even most of their older brothers and sisters.
A brief sketch of US teenagers of the 1990s? Think again. In the shopping malls and high schools of Brazil, millions of middle-class adolescents conform almost perfectly to the pattern set by American youth. Nor is it strictly a Brazilian phenomenon. For the first time in human civilization, there exists on a global scale a generation of people who wear, hear, see, want and even feel the same things.
Most of us have long perceived that young people around the world are highly influenced by the cultural clout -- and catchy advertising campaigns -- of the United States. As reported by Brazilian newsweekly Veja, the American advertising agency D'Arcy, Masius, Benton & Bowles (DMB&B), based in New York, recently decided to prove that thesis. They surveyed a total of 6547 teenagers, aged 15 to 18, living in 26 countries on five continents, all from families earning the equivalent of at least $25,000 a year. In Brazil, the local affiliate of DMB&B interviewed 448 students at private schools in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo.
Middle-class teens of whatever country show an astonishing similarity in ambitions, hobbies and concerns. Unlike the young people of the '60s, few teens nowadays think of themselves as rebels (only 6% of Brazilians would describe themselves as rebellious, while one-fourth of US teenagers lay that claim), and 64% of Brazilian teens claim to trust their parents. (However, 76% of American adolescents say that they confide in Mom and/or Dad.) Says Maria Eduarda Guaraná, a 15-year-old Carioca (from Rio de Janeiro), " I have a great relationship with my parents. The dialogue is open and the exchange of ideas is constant." Adds Daniela Guadelha, 17, "I try to do what my parents tell me to, since they're more experienced."
An anti-yuppie bunch -- Unlike teenagers of previous generations, the end-of-millennium edition can be described as an extremely moderate optimist -- or perhaps a realist. Only 17% of Brazilian youth believe that the world will improve in their lifetimes. "I'd like to live in a more just society, with a decent life for everybody, but I don't think it's possible," says Carioca Gustavo de Moraes, 18. But many young people do not give in to despair. In Brazil, 35% of teens (admittedly, from the top fifth of the economic ladder) believe that people like them can make a difference in the world. (American kids are considerably more hopeful about the future -- over a third say that the world will improve in their lifetimes -- but about as many believe that people like them can decisively influence events.)
The '90s generation abhors the yuppie excesses of the previous decade. The teens of today do not wish to take a vow of poverty -- far from it. They crave a comfortable life, which means the latest consumer goods without conspicuous consumption. But even more resoundingly, modern adolescents aspire to have a job that they enjoy. "It's sad to see people who don't like what they do for a living. I don't want to be like that," says Paulista (from São Paulo) José Thomaz de Luca, 16. One occupation in particular is regarded with disdain: politics. A mere 3% of Brazilian kids (as opposed to 20% of their contemporaries in the US) dream of being elected to public office, and barely 1% of Brazil's most privileged youth even trust the current crop of politicians. (In the US, a hardly more noticeable 4% say that they believe the nation's officeholders.)
It may be thought that middle-class adolescents have an almost limitless freedom of choice, compared with poorer kids, and even affluent youth of earlier decades. Nevertheless, according to psychologist Cecília Pescatore Alves, the pressure to be like one's peers is overwhelming. The sources of that pressure, however, might be a surprise. At her office in São Paulo, Pescatore Alves has been consulted by many parents who are worried because their teenaged children are not like their friends' kids of the same age. But this is not the parents' fault, the psychologist claims. "Young people have to be in one of the forms created by the cultural industry to be considered normal (...) It is difficult to be autonomous when a very rigid control of social roles exists."
An adman's dream -- "The globalization of youth is extremely interesting for ad agencies and big business," observes José Teixeira Coelho, professor of cultural politics at the University of São Paulo. "Massification is very convenient for them, in every way." Certainly, as far as business interests are concerned, there are numberless advantages in having a car, a CD or a soda that will be just as popular in Patagonia as in Southeast Asia -- or even in Petrópolis (a mountain resort close to Rio) or Peoria. But the results go far beyond the strictly mercenary.
Psychoanalyst Isabel Khan notices that a global culture (spread especially by television) also means that teens can easily and quickly find out what is happening in every part of the world -- which does not necessarily mean that they get a comprehensive or even a coherent view: " They can sympathize with the cause defended by Nelson Mandela, but hardly know what's going on in the favela (shanty town) a block away from home."
But there is also a beneficial side to teens' increased knowledge of the world, Khan states. "With information coming from all over the place, young people have come to be part of a new and fascinating world clan, which could lessen the chances of future conflicts between countries."
The slightly older contemporaries of the teenagers surveyed by DMB&B also are highly influenced by North American culture. "Generation X," the title of Canadian author Douglas Coupland's 1990 début book of interconnected short stories, has become the catchphrase to describe these young people in their twenties and even early thirties. (At 34, Coupland is in the vanguard of the generation that he christened and has described in four books.) The X-ers, as they are known, share with today's teenagers a yearning for a fulfilling job and a happy family life. However, possibly tempered by a few more years of experience, the twentysomethings are slightly less insistent on gaining material wealth, and somewhat more accepting of individuality, than those under the age of 18.
Staying home until later -- "My generation doesn't know whether it's punk, grunge or something else," stated actress Daniela Schmitz, 26, in the Porto Alegre newspaper Zero Hora. "Previous generations were in the Age of Pisces, and went about in schools of fish. Our generation is in the Age of Aquarius -- we're individualists, and aren't scared of thinking or acting differently."
Régis Montagna, a 27-year-old publicity agent, agrees. "My generation doesn't have any patterns, but we are individualists and don't want to run risks. I only began to live on my own last year. In the previous generation, leaving home at 15 was a sign of maturity. Now it's a sign of foolishness." This delayed departure from the parental nest is as common among Brazilian young adults as in their US counterparts. Part of it might be due to the difficulty for even college graduates to find a job that will comfortably allow them to live on their own, but it is even more a reflection of the generally good relations that these "delayed adolescents" have with mamãe and papai. Observes psychoanalyst Alfredo Jerusalinsky, who is the father of a 23-year-old daughter, "There are almost no conflicts between parents and children."
The X-ers have some less sterling qualities as well. Gilson Alves Bernardo, 27, a volleyball player, admits to one of them. "We know what we want, but are afraid of commitments (...) I think that people who don't want to take on commitments are afraid of looking ridiculous." This does not only, or even primarily, refer to the love life of twentysomethings. Says musician Luciano Leindecker, 23, "People my age don't have banners to rally to. Those which have been lifted up, like ecology, are diluted by the media and the system." Eduardo Bier Corrêa, a 29-year-old businessman, adds, "There isn't any big cause to justify a collective movement nowadays."
Psychoanalyst Jerusalinsky has an explanation: "They arrived too late to be at Woodstock [the legendary rock concert that occurred in New York state in 1969] and to believe in socialist ideals, but too early to try out some other social ideal." The good doctor adds that Generation X is struggling to defend itself from this impasse by seeking its own space by contemplating its own navel.
The doors of perception -- "The '80s and '90s were not a good time to be young," says M.L., a 22-year-old student somewhere in Brazil. Like many teenagers and young adults, M.L. wishes that he could have been old enough to take part in the cultural changes of the 1960s and attend concerts by Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. But M.L. discovered one way to bring back the '60s. For two years, he has used lysergic acid diethylamide, better known as LSD. "I found out about the drug by reading about it," M.L. says. He is not alone. A survey by the US National Institute of Drug Abuse has revealed that LSD use by American teenagers aged 16 to 18, which had been 7.2% in 1975 and fell to 4.4% a decade later, rose to 6.8% in 1993.
Far from the world of the street children -- who are alleged to be sold drugs at low prices in order to become easily addicted to them -- acid has resurged among middle-class Brazilian youth. LSD is frequently sent to Brazil by mail from abroad. Since it is tasteless, odorless and colorless, LSD is not detected. One doesn't need to rely on the post office for the drug, however. If one has the fungus Claviceps purpurea, says Maria Amélia Barata da Silveira, professor of pharmaceutical chemistry at the University of São Paulo (USP), "it's very easy to produce the drug in any laboratory." Naturally, she does not give demonstrations to her students on the technique of synthesizing LSD, but does admit that it is very simple to get hold of books that teach how to make acid. Barata da Silveira emphasizes that all student activities in college labs is strictly controlled and that she is unaware that anyone has ever used the facilities of USP to manufacture LSD.
G.A., a 20-year-old college student, told Brazilian newsweekly Isto É that she first took LSD when she was 14, at a rock concert in the US. "The sensitivity stayed on the surface of my skin. I came to feel in colors and hear the trees." This is common in LSD trips, as well as changes in the perception of time and space. "Sometimes, it's as if a night had lasted an entire month." Not all trips are quite as pleasant, though. "I've already had a bad trip. I got depressed and it was terrible, but it quickly went away," says D.R., 22, an illustrator who claims that he first took acid while watching scenes from Woodstock of 1969.
Living scared -- The much-publicized wave of kidnappings in Brazil (reputedly, there is at least one kidnapping a day in the nation) has inspired alarmed young people of both sexes to carry a gun for protection. Naturally, since most abductions are done in order to get a ransom, these kids come from affluent families. Children of politicians, business executives and diplomats in Brasília are toting revolvers in their belts or purses.
One of these young people -- who preferred not to be identified -- told the Brasília newspaper Correio Braziliense that the kidnapping of Wagner Canhedo Filho in 1994 proved that people have to protect themselves. "The idea that Brasília is a safe city fell by the wayside and everybody is afraid." The firearms are generally not flashed about and their owners don't want to use them except under a serious threat.
V.H., a 20-year-old inhabitant of the wealthy Lago Sul district in Brasília, exemplifies this behavior. He carries a .38 caliber revolver which he bought legally. He took a firearm-safety course and says that he has the self-control to carry a .38: after all, he only has the gun in order to prevent assaults! According to V.H., "there are many boys who just stick a revolver around their waist." He adds that some even own guns that not even the police uses. L.L., 23, who also lives in Lago Sul, owns a .38 caliber Taurus. He bought the revolver after one of his father's friends was kidnapped and shot. "He spent eight months in the hospital and almost died," remembers L.L. "I don't want that to happen to me."
"A skinhead's life is hard. You'd better get used to it." That warning is given to new members of the Gaúcho (from Rio Grande do Sul) group Carecas do Brasil (Baldies of Brazil), after an initiation ritual in which the new recruit, running rapidly through a line composed of the veteran members, is kicked, punched and slapped. Since April 1994, 20 young men have met weekly in a secret location in the Porto Alegre metropolitan area to discuss the future of Brazil and how to spread their ideas in society at large.
In their zines (small handwritten and/or typed periodicals, photocopied by their "publishers" and distributed almost any which way) the skinheads expound their basic beliefs.
Ready to use violence -- Like many skinheads in the US and elsewhere, these carecas are from working class families. Most work during the day, go to night school, live with their parents and contribute their earnings to the family budget. They think that prostitutes and drug addicts are the bane of society, but have a special horror of homosexuals. "I think they're really degenerate," Robinson, the 22-year-old founder of the Porto Alegre branch of Carecas do Brasil, told Zero Hora." It's a disrespect to society."
The skinheads believe in marriage ("but a woman doesn't have to be a virgin to get married," Robinson adds). The traditional family, hard work, going to school and compulsory military service.. "A skinhead has to have not just physical strength but mental strength as well," Robinson says.
The skinheads wear pins of the Brazilian flag and consider themselves fervent nationalists. They want all multinational corporations to be taken over by the Brazilian government, and condemn what they see as the "North American exploitation of Brazil." However, they abhor to be confused with neo-Nazi White Power groups (whose mainstay is in the São Paulo area) and despise the swastika. "We aren't racists, we're nationalists," the carecas insist. "We're fighting against all types of domination." Robinson emphasizes, "Everybody in the suburbs is exploited and the skinheads are struggling against that."
Márcia Regina da Silva, an anthropologists a Pontifícia Universidade Católica (PUC) in São Paulo, has written a book about the skinhead movement in Brazil." Those boys are looking for an identity," she states.
In spite of the different factions (in addition to White Power and Carecas do Brasil, there are also Carecas do Subúrbio and Carecas do ABC), da Silva says that all the skinhead groups are close-knit, exclusive and prone to violence. "They reproduce behavior around the world," she affirms.
Are skinheads violent? "Brazilian reality is more violent than we are," Robinson replies.
The American dream
In common with millions of young Brazilians, Amílcar Figueiredo, a 17-year-old from Petrópolis, Rio de Janeiro state, is fascinated by the US. Last year he came to the Los Angeles suburb of Montclair as an exchange student.
"Brazilian and American kids both have the same goals," Figueiredo says. "They want to graduate from college and they like to have fun."
He has noticed some differences though. "Brazilian kids act friendly more easily. American kids take a longer time to trust, but when they do, they are friends for sure." Figueiredo also likes the easier rapport that exists between young people of different classes in the US. And as an avid tennis player, Figueiredo is delighted that athletics is so prominent in US schools. He has been accepted to Citrus College in Glendora, California, where he will major in electrical engineering.
Says he, "I came to the US to go to college, but my greatest dream is to be a professional tennis player. And I'm certain that I'm on the right path."
X-talk