What a coward this man was

Dear súbditos,

Now that in my previous two posts I have identified, I believe, one of the most important traits of your culture that make democracy a difficult prospect in your country, let me move to the second one. That is the relationship that you have to political power and, generally, to all forms of power.

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I have observed that Portuguese people can be very determined, courageous, bold, even tough, provided they feel power is on their wings. On the contrary, if they are not in a position of power or associated with power, I often find their civic behaviour towards political power as being marked by an outrageous cowardice.

There is a man in your history who illustrates neatly what I mean, probably with some exaggeration. That is Marquis de Pombal. This was a determined, courageous, bold, tough man, even to the point of cruelty. He was by far the most cruel of rulers in the long history of your country; in his 28 year rule he ordered more than three thousand people to be killed, mostly for political reasons. He was all of these things, though, only as long as he remained in power. For, when he fell from power and was tried he behaved like a real coward: he was too tired and ill to stand questioning by justice, he did not assume responsibility for any one of his acts, everything he did was acting upon orders of the King (whom, you guess, by that time was already dead). What a coward this man was. It is too bad he is still today one of your heros.

As I see them, the Portuguese are people who, individually, can support and endure an inordinate amount of abuse by those in power without being able to confront them and drawing a line between what is acceptable and what is sheer abuse. As a result, day after day, each one of them is victim of a small government or bureaucratic abuse which, taken in itself, is not a great loss to their civic rights and freedoms, but when taken together make them súbditos of government, rather than citizens and sovereigns in their own, nominally free and democratic country.

When the day comes that they decide to do something about it, it is always as a crowd, never as individuals. Then, they react with the sentiment of revolt that is proper of people who have been repeatedly abused for a long time. The revolt becomes highly emotional, rather than rational, occasionally involving violence. Most likely, it will fix a couple of the most prement abuses by government or the administration. The following day, though, eveything returns to normal, the multitude of other small abuses that make them a people of súbditos, rather than citizens, stay where they are.