University of Northern Iowa
An Opinion from LisbonAuthor(s): William SimonSource: The North American Review, Vol. 252, No. 2 (Mar., 1967), pp. 31-34Published by: University of Northern IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25116573 .
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be a tall, skinny white fighter there in place of Boo
boo, and on my face, I would like to think, would be the expression of a man, and not that of a boy ... an
older, wiser, sadder expression. But a calmer one. When you're young, it's good to
see your heroes fall, because then you can start creating others. And maybe they'll be better. They're always needed. Now, I take mine from the pages of history; nothing can break them down.
But a second picture of the Occam Springs camp might not have included me at all. For I had made up my mind that I no longer wanted to stay in the strange world of Booboo and Al and Phil.
Moxie, who was a kind of priest of this world, watched me closely when I told him I wasn't staying around anymore.
"Well," he said. "You might make a pretty good fighter someday. Only, you ain't as good now as you think you are. But if you ever decide to give it a try, look me up. They's always room at the top."
Al was knocked out in the third round. I had no reaction whatsoever. I heard some fellows talking about the fight a day or so later and they asked me my
opinion. All I told them was that Al had been a
great one in his day.
is
An Opinion From
LISBON
William Simon
Lisbon has been the capital of Portugal since the Middle Ages and its people have survived almost ev
erything: earthquakes, the ravages of Napoleon's troops, and, in this century, influenza, and forty years
of another disease?fascism. They have become ac customed to fascism and regard it more as a hunch back than as fatal, although it often is fatal to those who attempt to shake it off. The lisboetas, as they call
themselves, endure life with a curious blend of fatalism and black melancholy peculiar to the Portuguese peo ple. Lisbon, a cosmopolitan city, is about the size of San Francisco and deceptively gives an impression that it is much larger.
Lisbon for the tourist is fun, relaxing and cheap, with its fado houses, wide, palm-lined avenues, and
pleasant parks; however, for the lisboeta it is something else: it's supporting a wife and three children on less than $100.00 a month, not being able to smoke be cause a pack of good cigarettes costs fifteen cents and for the same price you can buy four and a half pounds of potatoes. Behind the fancy shops, the sidewalk cafes, the hustle and bustle lies the disforc?, the dis
guise, the mask of the systematic, evil dictatorship which peeled back, exposes behind the baroque monu ments to past glories the harsh realities of Portuguese
society today, the filth and squalor of the Bairro da Lata and Chelas that lie worlds beyond the well-dressed dandies on the Rossio.
Traditionally, for the affluent tourist, Portugal has been the last stop before returning home. Now, a great effort is being made to capture the foreign exchange that tourists used to spend in France and Italy. With the opening of the Salazar Bridge, over the Tejo river, the Alent? jo and the Algarve have become more easily accessible from Lisbon, and the great hope is that Southern Portugal can "save" the country from per petual dependence on foreign money sources such as the large European banking houses. In fact, there has been such a great influx of French and German tourists
WILLIAM SIMON, senior at Queens College, spent several months in Lisbon in 1966 and speaks fluent Spanish and Port
ugese.
March, 1967 jj
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that the Portuguese, ever conscious of their inferior
position in Europe, now say that they are suffering an other "Gothic invasion," or quip that "Napoleon's sons are upon us again." The truth in their bitter remarks on the foreign tourists is borne out by the fact that by the middle of August on some Lisbon streets there are
more cars bearing Parisian plates than Portuguese. Even the Spanish are coming to Portugal because they claim the Costa Brava is overrun with those "nasty"
Germans.
Each of these well-to-do (by Portuguese standards) tourists visits the beaches on the Tejo, takes in the
fados, and goes up to the S?o Jorge Castle to see the rare birds, and each must quickly notice that he is liv
ing in a fairy world when the large numbers of lottery ticket sellers, legal beggars, street urchins, gypsies, and
peddlars selling anything from shaving brushes to
change-purses begin to gnaw at him. He cannot be unaffected.
Poverty h a fact of life for Portugal today just as it has been for centuries. Part of poverty is the Portu
guese people's health. From a strictly non-medical ob server's point of view, the Portuguese of the lower
middle class do not even look healthy, there is a pallor that seems to pervade the faces of the working class that can only be accounted for in their diet. Generally speaking, there is overemphasis on starches and a lack of proteins from vegetables and meats. Conservative estimate on the tuberculosis rate in Lisbon alone is that twenty-five per cent of the population has active tuberculosis and that in some areas such as Ajuda, and the shantytown near the P?rtela airport, the rate is probably double. The Curry Cabrai Hospital in the
B?lgica district receives most of these cases and its fa cilities have been overtaxed for many years.
Ranking higher than tuberculosis on the list of dis eases that are part and parcel of Portugal are syphillis and gonnorhea. Great numbers of the blind beggars in
Lisbon are victims of congenital syphillis. Since prosti tution was legally abolished five years ago, the rate of venereal disease infection has skyrocketed. An English doctor, who formerly was ship's surgeon on a Pacific and Orient Lines freighter, admitted that the sailors came back from shore leave in Lisbon with venereal in fections second only in seriousness to Yokohama.
With such great health problems, and in spite of the fact that the trains run well, Portugal can barely con sider itself a viable European state.
At this point one might justifiably ask, just what are they doing about it? To say that the government is
doing absolutely nothing would be untrue, but to say that great strides were being made would be a gross
exaggeration. There is no equivalent of the "Great
Society Program" nor is there a chapter of The Student
Help Project operating out of the University of Lisbon. The allegiance and social conscience of the middle and
upper classes are not with the less fortunate. Every one is entitled to four years of primary education and for the average poor family, that is the limit that can
be expected. Opportunities exist to enter the liceu or
technical schools. Entrance to a University is almost
unheard of from the lower middle classes of Lisbon. Absence of social mobility serves to reinforce tradition al groups. Education, which has strengthened Ameri can institutions as well as expanded the base of the
middle classes, has for Portugal only narrowed them. To understand the position of the University and
that of both the students and faculty at the present time, it must be understood that in recent years the number of female students at Lisbon's Faculty of Let
ters, has far exceeded the number of men enrolled. A
partial explanation for this is the four-year military service imposed upon the male population for the Af rican wars. The backward system of University ad
ministration as well as the subservient position of the student before the professor increases the difficulties
already facing most students. Since professors receive
pitifully small salaries, they give private lessons and it is fairly obvious that only the most affluent students can
afford full tutoring. Women get their degrees but the
society offers them few alternatives other than marriage. Women almost never are legally able to vote.
Unrest at the University is viciously controlled by a
well-paid and highly sophisticated spy network operated as a section of the Gestapo-trained PIDE (Polic?a Inter nacional e Defesa do Estado). At no time will a stu dent make a political comment or be drawn into a
potentially compromising conversation on the Univer
sity grounds. If a discussion regarding Angola, poverty, or what is happening within the University is started, the language of communication may quickly switch from Portuguese to French or English to complain about the PIDE or the inequity of the military draft.
It is here, however, that sympathy and potential ca
maraderie frequently end. The social strata of the Portu
guese University student and the American student are not comparable. The disdain for one whose origins are of the working classes from those of the profession al and "gentle" classes is very strong: they cannot con ceive that the son or daughter of a factory worker or
policeman could possibly become a lawyer. Even the forms of unrest at the University are carried on in Por
tuguese style: demonstrations are held on the grounds, safe from police arrest, and are always held in the Fall
when the weather is pleasant. A long time resident of Lisbon sarcastically quips that it is inconceivable that the students would take to the streets to bring down the
government because that would mean scuffing their
shoes, creasing their suits, or missing their afternoon coffee.
If one can say that the American University is a
shelter from the realities of life, the Portuguese Uni
versity is almost a total refuge. There is, however, a
time of day when the harsh poverty of the sprawling Bairro da Lata comes through, but fails to make any lasting impression. It is when the universitarios sit down to have their meals that the urchins come to bang on the windows, shouting, ?(da-me pao, pao, 'pra
comer," (give me bread, bread to eat) that the inse
curity of his existence and the temporary unreality of his being is questioned. Even though they may be fed from the University kitchen, this is no answer.
32 The North American Review
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There are two things that the student can do: he
can give away the bread or simply shut the blinds, thus
blackening out the realities of dirt, rickets, and incipi ent tuberculosis. And if he chooses to give away the
bread, he may also wish to amuse himself by watch
ing a gang of five or six fight over it. And when they come begging urn escudinho, he can easily put on a
blank stare, continue his conversation and walk away.
Thus, the class that will carry the burdens, provide
cheap maids, and sweepers never has, and never will
find an ear for its plight among the scions of the
Corporate State. Yet, at the same time, the precious white enclaves of City College or Columbia U. -
Morningside Heights in the middle of Harlem bear a
striking parallel. If opposition from the students is frustrated and
finds one of its few outlets in lavatory graffiti, then
what of the faculty? Plainly, the faculty also lives in
a state of terror. The intellectual life of the country is
stifled because the police state cannot tolerate the
freedom of the spirit, and frequent compromises are
made simply to avoid torture or mind-destroying sur
veillance. Denunciation and malicious slander are wea
pons of the opportunists and those who seek to main
tain their precarious position. The situation is close to a permanent and institutionalized anti-intellectual mon
strosity on an order Joe McCarthy never dreamed of.
Where then is the opposition? The traditional opposi tion exemplified by Anglophile or Francophile business
and professional groups is out of touch with the cur
rent situation. The Christian Democrats and Socialists, traditional in orientation, are often checkmated by the
government. Even some elements of the opposition are
somewhat suspect because their original aims have been
clouded over the years, modified, and finally blunted
because of government acceptance of their ineffective
existence. Newer, younger groups are not gaining
strength. Perhaps it is because they lack a leader, but
most likely it is because they are splintered and not
totally aware of each other's existence. In any event,
hard-core Marxists amount to only a handful. Issues
divide the opposition, and one of the most critical fac
ing them and the Portuguese people is the Pol?tica no
Ultramar, the overseas territorial policies.
Portugal began its expansion into the African conti
nent with the taking of Ceuta in 1415. Little by little,
they came down the African coast on the way to India.
At the same time they began to monopolize the slave,
gold, and spice trades away from the Arab traders,
eventually coming to dominate Northern European markets. The importance of Portugal's historic role as
the intermediary between the civilizations of Western
Europe and those of India, the Orient, Africa, and
America cannot be refuted; the museums, libraries, and
map names are testament to their efforts. The realities,
however, of twentieth century nationalism have failed
to make practical impressions upon the fascist leader
ship. In the nineteenth century Portugal lost Brazil and
returned to slow decay and the ever increasing eco
nomic and military protectorate imposed by a com
mercially ambitious England. In the 1870's the wine
economy of the North was hit by a devastating crop disease. Further on in that era cheap meat from Argen tina and Uruguay brought to England by refrigerator
ships wrecked the cattle industry. To make up for the
increasing drain of capital and trade deficit, expansion and effective occupation of Portuguese Africa was dic
tated.
Portugal held tenuous sovereignty over much of the
Southern African Continent until 1890 when German and British Imperialists took over definitive control over what is now Rhodesia, South-West Africa, Mal
awi, and Zambia, leaving the Portuguese with Angola,
Mocambique, Cabinda and Portuguese Guinea. Again, in 1913, the Germans and British intended to "grab" the remaining territories, but the outbreak of World
War I prevented them, and in spite of British efforts to have the Portuguese declare war on them, Portugal
maintained its colonies by declaring against the Central Powers in 1916. Later, in 1938, British appeasement policy makers, thoroughly misguided, considered these colonies as a possible offer to Hitler, without, of course,
consulting the Portuguese. Thus it is not surprising that the Portuguese feel that
within historical context somebody is trying to "steal"
part of Portugal. Portuguese apologists consider that the "Africans they took into their hearts and homes have turned against them," and that "negro commu
nists" aided by "Russian and American" plotters are
after Portuguese Africa. The unreality of the Portu
guese presence in Angola, for example, is shown by the admission of an extremely small military force stationed there prior to 1961. This pathetically small
army (perhaps two to three thousand, not including militia and constabulary) only points up the frailties in the official Portuguese mentality. In the face of every thing that was happening in Africa at that time and
prior to it, they did nothing to compromise with mod erate autonomist elements, thus leaving only one door
open: violence and terrorism. The Portuguese appar
ently learned little from the lesson of Kenya, nothing from Algeria, and less from the former Belgian Congo,
which borders on Angola and serves as a base for Holden Roberto's guerrillas. It was felt that the "na
tives" were loyal. In Mocambique, the South Africans have promised
to step in if the Portuguese cannot control the situ
ation, and in Guinea, Amilcar Cabral's PAIGC is now
paramount and according to the latest non-Portuguese sources, has a free hand. Officially, the casualty rates are low. Most foreign military attaches, however, mul
tiply the official rate by six to get a more accurate
figure. More or less, the Portuguese probably have lost about as many men in Africa as we have lost in Asia. The Portuguese people are consistently fed lies about the African Wars. The accident rates due to "drunken"
driving in Angola, are the possible equivalent of several batallions that have been lost. It is only after two or three years that a family might learn what has
happened to its sons.
Urban populations have always groaned under the
March, 1967 33
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mass of petty taxations that sometimes add up to
large bills. Recently prohibitive tariff was imposed on
luxury goods. In addition, taxes on various commercial
transfers, and sundry business transactions have also
doubled this year. Fully forty per cent of the national
budget is devoted to the war effort. At the same time, because of the inferior economic position of Metro
politan Portugal in regard to the world market, at least one third of the total national GNP comes from An
gola. In spite of dependence on Africa, light industry has expanded tremendously, but pay cannot compare to Northern Europe.
Currently, one of the sources of foreign exchange for
Portugal is from the large number (perhaps 300,000) of Portuguese workers living abroad, many near Paris.
These men, working at menial jobs, are able to pro vide enough money to support thousands of families in
the Minho, the great wine district that was the seat
of the Medieval independence movement. With the new U.S. laws Portuguese immigration will skyrocket, perhaps sparking a renaissance of their communities here. This drain from the countryside has produced a serious crisis in agriculture, and wine as well as food
staple production in some areas is no longer profitable due to the high cost of labor. In some areas, the emi
gration of men has been so great that the birth rate
has dropped off sharply. These problems do not augur well for the traditionally fragile Portuguese economy. Most likely, the one possibility that may save the
country will be the expected tourist boom in the next
few years.
The Portuguese people are among the most decent,
hard-working and honest in Europe. With only a little
bit of compassion, some help, and leaders of vision,
they could possibly repeat the feats of their ancestors.
They do not deserve their present lot.
The Portuguese government, and the Uni?o Nacional, its official organ of political and social control, repre sent nothing more than the formalized desires, interests, and privileged positions of the Republican oligarchy in combination with traditional landowning and com
mercial interests. The well-fabricated lie of "a true
social democracy with a record of continued absence
of strife" is easily shattered before the knowledge of po litical murders, the periodic military "pronouncements," and the cancer of fascism which has eaten at the souls
of the Portuguese people for these forty years.
In spite of the great social inequities, and persistent
oppressions it is futile to expect a popular rising or even
a successful military one to gain support. After forty
years of "paternalistic" fascism and "corporativism" in
all walks of life, only a few embers of revolt exist. In
Lisbon's cafes, and fado houses, where the plaintive
song of a defeated people is heard, they wait, as they wait in Spain, for "the old one" to die. And nobody knows what will happen then.
TIME PIECES
Rod Townley
/. The Visitor I saw Macbeth coming up the stairs and I knew
we were in for murder. I fumbled with the screen door
trying to lock it, but in my heart I knew it wouldn't
stop him from getting in. I don't recall how he actually did get past the door; perhaps I had blinked at that
moment. But all at once he was inside, and my wife was greeting him and taking his coat. Brave Blythe. She knew he would be murdering the children before he left; she sensed it, we both sensed it, and in fact
I think the children must have sensed it too, though they tried not to show that they had.
And when he played with them, they were afraid.
//. The Doctor
Everyone was in consternation over the results of
the autopsy. It seems that, even years before the acci
dent, the doctor had been suffering from an incomplete ness of the internal structure, like an eccentric clock with a tic. A hypocondriac clock, he was constantly dismantling himself by peering into his own gizzards for omens. Externally, except for his limp, he appeared quite normal. But his mind was a white bird out of
sight of land, with the fatal time-pill in him. He had swallowed it at the shore, thinking it edible, but it
grated within him, caused pain, and was causing him now to fly lop-sidedly, worried lest he explode mid
ocean, or halfway across Sixth Avenue, before he had a look at the other side.
"Will I make it?" he clacked, peering into his me
chanical gizzards for omens, dismantling himself en
route.
///. Change He smiled and slipped on his blue sports-jacket,
then after some thought decided he might bring an
overcoat, too. Hadn't the radio just now predicted flurries? He could not remember, and didn't want to use up any more quarters to turn it on again. The
truth was, he was a bit short of change this morning. His hand reached down automatically and jostled the
tooled-leather pouch that hung from his belt on a thong. Yes, he would have to cash another coupon today and
get it filled. Especially dimes: there were hardly enough to keep the clock on the mantel running, let alone turn on the sink or open the closets.
ROD TOWNLEY is a graduate student and assistant at Rut
gers. He has worked in bookstores, grocery stores, and jazz combos, has traveled to Europe four times, most recently
on
a honeymoon.
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