We all know the saying: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Here is another one: If a radio show goes on air daily and nobody tunes in, is it still a radio show? And if the reason such a show remains on the air, despite lacking an audience, is that the government makes every single radio station nationwide broadcast it? What type of government is that? While this state of affairs would not be surprising coming from an authoritarian regime (or perhaps during wartime), how could the constant intervention of media flow, where private content is pushed aside without compensation in favor of official news, be justified in a liberal democracy?
As the first mainstream wireless broadcasting apparatus, radio was quickly embraced by state leaders as a vehicle through which they could be heard across the national territory. For many of those leaders, radio provided a unique opportunity to control how the public perceived them and to turn a community of listeners into enthusiastic supporters. The possibility of inserting one’s voice directly into each household opened a new paradigm of state influence.[1] German art and media theorist Rudolf Arnheim, who witnessed the technology evolve into mainstream media in the 1920s, concluded that distracted listening popularized by radio could lead the listener into “a proper state of receptivity.”[2]
The radio show A Voz do Brasil was created in the 1930s by the Brazilian government as a platform to disseminate its activities and promote its leaders. Since the program’s inception, all stations (public and private) have been required to air it every weekday; those that refuse to do so can be fined and have their broadcasting license suspended. But what exactly is the purpose of A Voz do Brasil, the longest-running program in the Southern Hemisphere? Is it to convey information, to broadcast propaganda, or both? How have different governments envisioned the program throughout the years? Those questions remain pertinent because, curiously, Brazilians seem to abhor A Voz do Brasil. For the most part, the program speaks into the void; it exists for an audience that is not there. Its resilience is nothing short of remarkable, particularly if we consider Brazil’s political trajectory in the past century has oscillated between repressive and democratic regimes.
Two elements help explain that resilience. First, the rationale for the program’s existence has shifted from autocratic state propaganda to the more democratic notion of state accountability. That shift is often supported by the debatable argument that radio is the ideal channel to reach poor and remote communities–a crucial point considering Brazil’s large territorial extension. The second element is more closely related to the internal dynamics of shared governance. A Voz do Brasil has been a site of disputes for media exposure between the executive, legislative, and (to a lesser extent) judiciary branches. While the first element points to the relationship between state and citizenry, the second concerns the pragmatics of having a voice in a volatile political arena. By closely following the program’s trajectory as a contested sonic space, we can grasp the blurry line separating political idealism (the defense of state audibility as accountability) and pragmatism (the need to carve territory in a competitive mediascape) in Brazil.
Vargas’s Radiotopia
President Getúlio Vargas came into power in 1930 after losing the election and leading a bloodless rebellion. Vargas and the radio grew with each other’s support. Shortly after taking office, Vargas classified radio broadcasting as “a service of national and educational interest.”[3] In a 1932 executive decree, he mentions creating a national program to “discuss educational, political, social, religious, economic, financial, scientific, and artistic matters,” which would be “simultaneously retransmitted by the other stations on the network.”[4] In 1934, dozens of public and private stations started airing the National Program daily between 7:30 p.m. and 8 p.m.[5]
With the National Program forcefully dominating the country’s sonic space, public dissent soon ensued. Brian McCann notes, “In October 1934, one listener sent a letter of protest to the DPDC [Department of Propaganda and Cultural Diffusion] complaining that the program was so bad that even congressmen turned it off. He referred to the program as the ‘fala sozinho’ or ‘talks to itself,’ a nickname that haunted the show for decades.” In 1935, the show was renamed A Hora do Brasil (“The Hour of Brazil”).[6]
Vargas argued that, as Brazil lacked a private news organization of national coverage, the state should step in and install radio receivers and loudspeakers in remote towns across the country. The President claimed that such an initiative would provide Brazilians with “moments of social and political education. . . and all sorts of news capable of interweaving the diverse interests of the nation.” For Vargas, whereas the printing press covered mostly regional news, radio was “of interest to everyone about everything that happens in Brazil.”[7]
In 1937, the Vargas administration revealed it had found evidence of an international communist plot to overthrow the government. To highlight the gravity of the situation, military officials read excerpts from the supposedly intercepted documents on A Hora do Brasil. Those same officials would later admit they had forged the evidence to help Vargas remain in power. The President canceled the 1938 presidential election, placed the country under martial law, closed Congress, banned political parties, and suspended personal rights. Attacks on the regime were monitored and censored; detractors were imprisoned, tortured, and exiled.
In 1939, the government created the Department of Press and Propaganda (Departamento de Imprensa e Propaganda, or DIP). Inspired by Goebbels’s Ministry of Propaganda,[8] the DIP entailed various departments, including radio, press, tourism, cinema, and theater. Radio stations had to submit all materials in advance, from news bulletins to soap opera scripts. The DIP placed officials at radio stations to monitor live radio content. In an energetic (if impractical) attempt to increase its audience, the government ordered all retail stores in the country with a radio receiver to tune in to A Hora do Brasil.[9] “[If ] broadcasting it is not technically possible,” the DIP’s guidelines stated, “loudspeakers must remain in absolute silence during the program.”[10]
In a more effective effort, in 1940, the regime seized assets owned by Companhia Estrada de Ferro São Paulo-Rio Grande, which included the station Rádio Nacional.[11] Becoming the new owner of a widely popular radio station gave the government a substantial advantage in Brazil’s increasingly competitive broadcasting space. During this period, the show had two main sections. In the first portion, the host summarized the acts of the President and various state departments. This part often included Vargas’s pre-recorded speeches. The Minister of Labor delivered 10-minute lectures on the labor regulations the Vargas regime was introducing, including minimum wage, annual leave, occupational health and safety, protection of women and minors, social security, and union regulations. The second portion featured Brazilian music, often with performances by Radio Nacional samba artists.[12] In that way, A Hora do Brasil projected Vargas as a conciliator of class and racial tensions. First, new labor relations supported the DIP’s efforts to portray Vargas as “the father of the poor” (pai dos pobres). Second, by fostering samba as an inherently national cultural practice (not just Afro-Brazilian), the program celebrated Brazil as a “racial democracy” —a tropical nation where skin color was not a factor of social distinction. [13]
However, despite all those efforts, the program remained disliked. While widely popular newscasts such as Jornal Esso (a 5-minute program produced by Rádio Nacional) and Rádio Tupi’s Grande Jornal Falado used dynamic and colloquial language, A Hora do Brasil producers “insisted on the monotonous reading of dense texts, often unintelligible to the average listener, performed by a single speaker in a linear tone.”[14]
Congress Makes a Noise
Brazil’s involvement in World War II gave its military leadership political relevance and stimulated a closer relationship with the US. After the war, military leaders defended Brazil’s return to democracy. Sensing the tides had changed, in 1945, Vargas abandoned radio censorship and promised elections by the end of that year. Fearing he once again planned to remain in power, the military chose to force him to resign. The elections were held, and Army General Eurico Gaspar Dutra became President. The country reestablished democracy, civil rights, and the separation of powers.
Frustrating the private sector, Dutra kept A Hora do Brasil in place. In contrast to the political use of the show during the Vargas regime, the Dutra administration claimed that the program’s purpose was to “merely inform” state affairs.[15] However, the distinction between propaganda and information remained blurry, and many condemned A Hora do Brasil as a residue of the Vargas authoritarian era.
Vargas was forced to resign but maintained his political rights. Still enjoying wide popularity, in 1950, he returned to power after winning the presidential elections. During the 1951-1954 Vargas administration, the program was renamed A Voz do Brasil (The Voice of Brazil).[16] Clashes between the executive and legislative branches marked this period of political instability. Lawmakers had been accusing the executive branch of using A Voz do Brasil to promote itself while, in the words of Federal Deputy Mendes de Morais, “distorting and perverting the work done in this Chamber.” Lawmakers and media executives planned a comprehensive review of the telecommunications regulations as a necessary measure to prevent presidential overreach. Confirming their concern, President Vargas narrowed the duration of broadcasting licenses and gave the presidency ultimate authority to concede and revoke them.[17]
In 1957, the Senate passed a bill to guarantee freedom of speech on radio and television and prohibit “censorship of the speeches delivered by Congress members.” In 1962, it passed the collection of laws known as the “Brazilian Telecommunications Code” (Código Brasileiro de Telecomunicações, or CBT). President João Goulart approved the law but vetoed several items, including clauses that increased the duration of broadcasting licenses and eliminated the presidential authority over them. The media sector, now formally organized as the Brazilian Association of Radio and Television Broadcasters (Associação Brasileira de Emissoras de Rádio e Televisão, or ABERT), successfully lobbied for Congress to reject and overwrite the President’s vetoes.
Despite its efforts, ABERT was unable to eliminate A Voz do Brasil. The transfer of Brazil’s capital in 1960 from Rio de Janeiro to a remote area (Brasília) made media exposure even more crucial. Congress used the CBT to include a clause doubling A Voz do Brasil’s length, giving itself the second half of the program. Lawmakers filled their portion of the show with excerpts from their speeches and summaries of the plenary sessions.
Conflicting Voices
In 1964, the military coup ousted President João Goulart under the pretense that his socialist tendencies threatened Brazil’s sovereignty. After less than two decades of representative democracy, Brazil was once again under a dictatorship. Unlike the Vargas dictatorship (1937-1945), the military government gave its administration a more democratic frontage. In addition, it showed less interest than Vargas in seizing media channels. Private media was encouraged to thrive as long as it stayed away from openly criticizing the government. Particularly in the early 1970s, during the country’s economic boom, the government used media channels extensively to disseminate its patriotic PR campaigns.[18] Like the Vargas regime, state propaganda strategically used samba, Carnaval, and soccer as embodiments of national unity.
A 1968 survey conducted by the government showed that, in rural areas (where the regime assumed most citizens used radio), only 8% of the population tuned in to the A Voz do Brasil regularly; 51% never did, and 41% rarely did. In response, the government reformulated A Voz do Brasil with new vignettes between stories and a more dynamic news style.[19] In 1971, the program included a ten-minute briefing on popular topics that had little to do with the government, including soccer and lottery results.
While the military regime benefited from the A Voz do Brasil by circulating propaganda packaged as news, it remained exposed to criticism from the other half of the program. Indeed, despite heavy censorship, Congress found ways to confront the dictatorship on the air. For instance, according to Luiz Carlos Santana de Freitas, “The press only published notes about ‘missing’ politicians after hearing the lawmakers’ speeches [on A Voz do Brasil].”[20] Ironically, a residue of an authoritarian regime was now being used to criticize authoritarianism. When the regime floated the idea of removing the program’s mandatory clause due to the lack of audience, Congress vehemently (and successfully) opposed the idea, claiming a substantial part of the population did listen to the show.[21] By keeping a functioning Congress (as part of its democratic façade), the military regime was unable to sway public opinion effectively.
In the late 1970s, the military started to prepare for the country’s transition to democracy. Among other things, it loosened press censorship and political persecution. Opposition in Congress gained momentum, with large demonstrations openly calling for the end of the dictatorship. To better influence public opinion in a scenario of open opposition, the government created the Brazilian Broadcasting Company (Radiobrás) to oversee all its media channels. It also created the Secretary of Social Communication (SECOM). Directly attached to the President’s cabinet, the SECOM would oversee all communication from the executive branch. Media content would be generated by the newly created Brazil News Company (Empresa Brasil de Notícias, or EBN). A Voz do Brasil persevered, tangled in an administrative maze —produced by the EBN, which belonged to Radiobrás, itself attached to the SECOM.
The Voice I Want to Hear
In the 1980s, Brazil was once again a representative democracy. And once again, many questioned what role A Voz do Brasil would play in this new political horizon. Would the state continue to insist on making its broadcast mandatory? Despite public outcry, the answer was yes. To ensure the program’s survival, the executive and legislative branches joined forces. By the late 1990s, the Chamber of Deputies and the Senate each had not only a dedicated division in charge of A Voz do Brasil but their own TV and radio channels.[22]
In 1995, Eldorado, a private radio station, began a public crusade against the program’s mandatory clause, arguing that A Voz do Brasil’s 7 p.m. broadcast frequently disrupted the station’s briefings about traffic conditions in São Paulo. The message was that distant matters happening at the federal level were preventing hard-working urbanites from getting urgent local news on time. A survey by Datafolha (a polling institute branch of the media conglomerate Grupo Folha) showed that only 11% of the population listened to the program regularly. The survey also challenged the claim that the program’s most avid listeners came from poor and remote areas, indicating that the number of listeners in large cities and small towns was not significantly different.[23]
According to the Eldorado campaigners, the fiercest defense of the program came from Congress, particularly the less visible lawmakers. Already in its 1989 bylaws, the Chamber of Deputies had determined that “the speeches read or given at the Chamber’s lectern will be broadcast on A Voz do Brasil.” Without the financial and political resources necessary to use private broadcasting channels, these lawmakers depended heavily on the official program for media exposure, often delivering speeches at empty plenary sessions to have them aired nationally—free of charge and without airspace competition.
As legal action piled up, the judiciary was dragged into the controversy. In a breakthrough, a Trial Court granted Eldorado an injunction to stop broadcasting A Voz do Brasil. According to the judge, “Besides violating the freedom of information guaranteed [in the Constitution], the broadcasting of the abominable official program is a mortal blow to the fundamental guarantee of access to information.” The judge concluded that if it was so crucial for the government to broadcast A Voz do Brasil, it should use its own channels. Eventually, dozens of lower court decisions arrived at the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court then reversed course, confirming the government’s legitimacy to make all stations broadcast the show at 7 p.m. Once again, realpolitik and idealism crossed paths: around the time the program’s mandatory clause was under threat, the executive branch gave the judiciary five minutes in A Voz do Brasil. Each branch of government would now have a voice in the program with an arrangement still followed today: twenty-five minutes for the executive branch (produced by the EBC), five minutes for the judiciary branch, ten minutes for the Senate, and twenty minutes for the Chamber of Deputies.
Despite the setbacks, the private sector did not give up. As had been the case since the 1970s, for the one-month FIFA World Cup, the President temporarily altered the mandatory clause to allow radio stations to broadcast A Voz do Brasil at a different time so they could transmit soccer matches live.[24] In the early 2010s, ABERT (the same association that in 1962 had lobbied for Congress to reject the Presidential vetoes on licensing) launched a campaign against A Voz do Brasil with the slogan “The Voice that I Want to Hear” (A Voz que eu quero ouvir). Unlike Eldorado’s campaign, ABERT’s goal was not to eliminate the mandatory clause but to make that time flexibility permanent. A survey commissioned by ABERT showed that 68% of Brazilians supported the initiative.
In 2018, as the FIFA World Cup approached, an alignment between the executive and legislative branches made the change possible. The President of the Chamber of Deputies agreed to bring to the floor a bill allowing radio stations to broadcast A Voz do Brasil between 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. Some lawmakers opposed the move; as the time to vote on the bill approached, eight parties removed their deputies from the roll call in the last effort to prevent the voting due to a lack of quorum. At that point, however, the majority in Congress had already conceded to remove the show’s time rigidity. The bill was approved in the Chamber by a landslide. In April 2018, President Michel Temer signed it into law.[25]
Conclusion
The curious path of A Voz do Brasil shows how radio remained a strategic channel for the state as the country swung between democracy, dictatorship, populism, militarism, and technocracy. Despite several reformulations, the program never achieved the goal of turning a community of listeners into supporters–it could never establish an audience in the first place! Not even making the airing mandatory, stimulating the purchase of radio receivers, forcing commercial spaces to tune in to the show, and quieting all other media content seemed to work. Despite internal and external efforts, no administration was able or willing to keep the program free from political bias. For both the executive and legislative branches, it seems inevitable that the (now flexible) mandatory clause will keep A Voz do Brasil an attractive (however ineffective) outlet for self-promotion. Whether we consider the criticisms from everyday listeners, the attacks from the private sector, or the frictions between the President and Congress, the saga of A Voz do Brasil shows how radio is a platform through which government and society negotiate (in theory and practice) fairness, publicity, accountability, and overreach.