Optimism: the Brazilian way of life
Do you know someone who is super realistic, has an evidence-based mindset, predicts outcomes based on facts and proven patterns? This person is probably not Brazilian. This is not to say that Brazilians ignore facts, but let me explain a little bit about a uniquely Brazilian attitude, emblematic of a kind of national identity.
When I moved to Brazil, it was during the first week of the 2014 World Cup. Not the best timing, seeing as the entire country would stop whenever Brazil was playing, and most of the country would slow to a crawl to watch other interesting or important matches. The apartment that the Brazil Rugby Union was setting up for myself and 5 other players moving to São Paulo went unfurnished for a couple weeks, as necessary deliveries kept being canceled or postponed. When I explained some of these things to my relatives in São Paulo, or when Marjorie (as the team manager at the time and responsible for these logistics) wrangled with the delivery services, everyone said “vai dar tudo certo”; everything will work out.
Sometimes, when it rains really hard, the power goes out (twice this week, for example). Sometimes, the power goes out even when it doesn’t rain, but some minor construction accidentally hits a power line. The energy company usually gives an estimate for when they’ll be able to fix the problem, never less than 4 hours, but I’ve never experienced a timely power restoration. In some places in São Paulo, it floods every time it rains more than a few centimeters, which is all the rain storms during the summer. Nevertheless, residents, neighbors, doormen, relatives all commiserate, but also say, “vai dar tudo certo”; everything will be fine.
Last week the metro went on strike to protest the potential privatization of parts of the city’s public transportation system. In a city with 12 million residents, at least 4 million Paulistas are affected every time the metro goes on strike. By law, the state government must be prepared to provide public transportation alternatives that cover 20% of the predicted demand; in other words, the state government provides buses (obviously slower and smaller than the metro) to cover the affected metro lines, but these buses accommodate less than 1 (of the 4) million of the affected passengers. These sorts of protests affect a lot in the city, from traffic caused by more cars on the street, to commuting delays, to decreases in services because many people coming from the periphery into the city to work simply cannot arrive. Without fail, though, everyone will tell you, “vai dar tudo certo”; every little thing is gonna be alright.
When I say that everyone says this, it’s not an exaggeration. It’s one of the things I’ve come to embrace as a reflection of Brazilian identity. In the face of so many reasons to be pessimistic, to complain about things that don’t work or everyday realities that diverge so drastically from one’s expectations, Brazilians are inherently optimistic. There may be no objective proof that points to a positive outcome, but Brazilians have a very strong faith that everything will be more than fine. Se Deus quiser, God willing, everything will be good in the end. And if it’s not, it’s not the end yet.
It took me a while to wrap my head around this way of thinking. My parents are physicists and engineers, and have now spent most of their lives in the States. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say “vai dar tudo certo”; rather, they make careful predictions that draw on past experiences and present facts. I was raised in a household that trusts data. So when I moved to São Paulo, I didn’t understand this attitude. I wanted to ask people how they knew everything would be fine, when exactly things would start to get better, how this state of “tudo certo” (all good, all right) would come about. But these questions would not have gotten me anywhere. Nobody follows up “vai dar tudo certo” with hows or whens or by whoms; it is simply a conviction about the final state of things.
What I’ve come to understand, or perhaps what I’m slowly learning more about as I spend more time here and allow myself to feel more Brazilian, is that this optimism might seem myopic and ignorant, but it is in fact deliberate and persistent. Independent of religious beliefs, Brazilians believe in the conspiratorial power of the universe. If you work hard and do good and put your sights on something you want, you are putting that energy out into the cosmos. If you are doing your part, that small part, vai dar tudo certo. It is a beautiful recognition that so many things are out of your control, paired with the strongest faith that good and happiness will prevail.
I find myself applying this attitude more within my own life and my reactions to certain things. As an athlete, I work hard every day at training to give myself and my team the best possible chance to succeed. But it is never 100% within our control. That’s the beauty of sport. There will always be some part that is not within your control, which is the key aspect of competition, where you try your best to beat your opposition through a combination of skill, fitness, strategy, and grit. But the ball doesn’t always bounce in your favor. Sometimes, you do everything in your power, but your competitor is simply better. Understanding this fine distinction between what is in your control and what is not is fundamental to being well-prepared and keeping frustration at bay. Combined with this understanding, you must also really believe that you can succeed, otherwise you enter a losing battle without purpose. As I continue to mature as an elite athlete, I work on channeling positive energy so that my efforts have purpose; I trust the process, invest in the grind, knowing it will pay off. Vai dar tudo certo.
This is a good way to understand Brazil. Sometimes, it is maddening to see how many things don’t work, in terms of infrastructure and bureaucracies and stark inequality. But everyday, I interact with people who have dealt with these same problems, or worse, their entire lives and choose a different attitude. It’s a lesson in humility and faith; it’s a lesson in not taking the good for granted and not defining your experiences by the bad. I still don’t know how this optimism became an ingrained aspect of Brazilian identity, but I do know that it’s possible to learn*--I know I am.
*(As a historian, Marjorie has also pointed me to several books that help capture, contextualize, and texture Brazilian identity and attitudes, among them “Raízes do Brasil” by Sérgio Buarque de Holanda and “Grande Sertão: Veredas” by João Guimarães Rosa.)
