Herói da liberdade?

Rodrigo Constantino

Segundo o site G1, o legislador russo Alexei Pushkov divulgou em seu Twitter, antes de apagar a mensagem, que Snowden aceitou a oferta de asilo da Venezuela. Diz a matéria:

O presidente da comissão das Relações Exteriores da Duma (câmara baixa do Parlamento russo), Alexei Pushkov, disse nesta terça-feira (9) no Twitter que o americano Edward Snowden aceitou a oferta de asilo feito pelo governo daVenezuela."Como era esperado, Snowden aceitou a oferta do presidente (venezuelano Nicolás) Maduro sobre asilo político", disse. Pouco depois, o post foi apagado, segundo a agência Reuters.Simultaneamente, o porta-voz da Presidência russa, Mitry Peskov, evitou fazer qualquer comentário, e acrescentou que todas as perguntas deveriam ser feitas ao parlamentar.Depois, Pushkov explicou, também via Twitter, que havia sido informado da resposta positiva de Snowden à oferta venezuelana de asilo ao acompanhar informações da televisão estatal russa Vesti 24.

O Wikileaks já negou a informação. Mas sabemos que suas alternativas são buscar asilo em algum país com bem menos liberdade do que os EUA que ele denunciou. Assange, afinal, está sob os cuidados da embaixada do Equador até hoje, protegido por um governo bolivariano.

O que Snowden fez é motivo de muita controvérsia. Até que ponto é justificável trair seu governo para revelar algum abuso de poder do mesmo? Até que ponto é louvável divulgar informações sigilosas de seu empregador? Os fins justificam os meios? Enfim, o tema é complexo mesmo. 

Mas uma coisa eu sei: não dá para compartilhar da adoração que alguns libertários têm por gente como Snowden ou Julian Assange, do Wikileaks. Por que será que eles investem seus ataques mais ao governo americano do que qualquer outro governo? E por que será que eles buscam refúgio justamente sob os piores regimes autoritários e antiamericanos? 

Alguém em sã consciência diria que o governo americano é a grande ameaça à paz mundial, às liberdades individuais? Sim, o governo americano tem poder demais, e abusa dele. Merece ser vigiado, pois o preço da liberdade é a eterna vigilância. Não se pode cochilar, pois sempre há o risco de invasão de privacidade. 

Mas me parece um foco muito mal calibrado essa obsessão contra o governo americano, por gente que diz lutar em nome da liberdade, e logo depois corre para as saias de tiranetes que desrespeitam totalmente as mesmas liberdades. Tamanha incoerência desqualifica por completo esses "heróis". 

Chávez's 40-Year Plan to Conquer Vice

By MARY ANASTASIA O'GRADY, WSJ

Venezuela's Hugo Chávez says his Bolivarian Revolution needs more time to produce its utopian fruits. "We barely have 10 years here," he told a crowd of supporters in Caracas last week. "We will take it to 10 more and 10 more and 10 more to construct the new social virtues."

In that time, Mr. Chávez pledged, "we will deepen the socialist revolution: socialism, socialism and more socialism. We have to deepen the struggle and defeat the vices of the past that still persists among us: violence, insecurity, corruption, selfishness, individualism."

Considering that the human condition hasn't changed much since we got kicked out of the garden, a 40-year plan to conquer vice seems pretty ambitious. But Mr. Chávez has never suffered a lack of self-confidence. Of course being an individual is hardly a vice. On the other hand, notably absent from his list was another perennial transgression that has yet to be defeated in Venezuela: the central bank's sinful practice of printing money to finance the government.

Double-digit inflation has been the Venezuelan norm for decades. An annual rate below 20% since 1987 has been the exception; this year the International Monetary Fund expects a 25% increase in the price level.

Of course Mr. Chávez does not blame the central bank for inflation. In his school of economics rising prices are caused by producers, suppliers and merchants, who control the availability of goods and continually charge more for their products so that they can have a fatter profit. The solution to this injustice against the consumer, according to chavismo, is price controls. When they don't work, the answer is more of the same.

It was 2003 when the Chávez government introduced its first big wave of price controls. That year inflation exceeded 31%. Since then prices have been frozen on a wide variety of food items—meat, corn flour, rice, bread, sugar, coffee, powdered milk, cooking oil—and a host of other products and services, including cement and building materials, domestic air travel, private education and medical clinics. The main effect is that many items that used to be readily available are now scarce. Yet inflation stubbornly persists.

The inflation tax hits the poor the hardest and they are Mr. Chávez's most important constituents. Thus, in August he officially redoubled his efforts to control inflation by decreeing the "law of costs and fair prices." This sweeping new legislation creates a regulator charged with monitoring what consumers are charged, analyzing those charges by researching the cost of production and setting "just" prices. An army of 4,000 apparatchiks will make up "committees" that will fan out around the country to report and denounce noncompliance. Hoarders, speculators or anyone found guilty of price gouging will be prosecuted. Offenders can be fined, lose their property, be banned from commerce, and even go to jail.

Among Mr. Chávez's more amusing traits—providing you don't live in Venezuela—is his unshakable belief that he can dictate what the Austrian classical-economist Ludwig Von Mises called "human action." Thousands of years of experience suggest otherwise, most recently in the Soviet Union. But never mind. It is Venezuela's destiny to suffer central-planning hubris all over again.

Mr. Chávez recognizes at least some limitations. He knows he cannot decide, from the commanding heights, every price in the Venezuelan economy on day one. So his latest effort will start small. On Nov. 22 his government added 19 new products, mostly in the area of personal hygiene and home-cleaning, to the list of items with frozen prices. By Dec. 15 regulators will have analyzed the cost to make these products—advertising and marketing costs not included—and will decide what they should be sold for. Once those prices are set, the bean counters will move on to other goods.

Mr. Chávez has asked the regulators to keep a close eye on foreign-based companies like Colgate-Palmolive, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Nestle, GlaxoSmithKline, and Johnson and Johnson. The Italian milk company Parmalat, now controlled by the French Lactalis Group, has already been accused of hoarding. But the large Venezuelan food producer Polar is also in Mr. Chávez's cross-hairs.

Putting aside the absurdity of government bureaucrats overruling the laws of supply and demand, there is also the problem that many producers require dollars—which are not available at the official exchange rate—to pay for imported inputs. If the state insists on using the artificially strong Bolivar exchange rate to calculate costs, the vast majority of producers will either be judged guilty of overcharging or go out of business.

Consumers are anticipating what will ensue. In recent weeks the local press has reported that shops have been cleaned out of many price-controlled items. Sources say that products that are hard to find in stores can usually be purchased from street vendors at market prices.

In the meantime the government is feeding inflation by ramping up spending ahead of the election. Maybe Mr. Chávez will need more than 40 years to cure original sin.

The devil in the deep-sea oil

The Economist

Unless the government restrains itself, an oil boom risks feeding Brazil’s vices

DEEP in the South Atlantic, a vast industrial operation is under way that Brazil’s leaders say will turn their country into an oil power by the end of this decade. If the ambitious plans of Petrobras, the national oil company, come to fruition, by 2020 Brazil will be producing 5m barrels per day, much of it from new offshore fields. That might make Brazil a top-five source of oil.

Managed wisely, this boom has the potential to do great good. Brazil’s president, Dilma Rousseff, wants to use the oil money to pay for better education, health and infrastructure. She also wants to use the new fields to create a world-beating oil-services industry. But the bonanza also risks feeding some Brazilian vices: a spendthrift and corrupt political system; an over-mighty state and over-protected domestic market; and neglect of the virtues of saving, investment and training.

So it is worrying that there is far more debate in Brazil about how to spend the oil money than about how to develop the fields. If Brazil’s economy is to benefit from oil, rather than be dominated by it, a big chunk of the proceeds should be saved offshore and used to offset future recessions. But the more immediate risks lie in how the oil is extracted.

The government has established a complicated legal framework for the fields. It has vested their ownership in Pré-Sal Petróleo, a new state body whose job is merely to collect and spend the oil money. It has granted an operating monopoly to Petrobras (although the company can strike production-sharing agreements with private partners). The rationale was that, since everyone now knows where the oil is, the lion’s share of the profits should go to the nation. But this glides over the complexity in developing fields that lie up to 300km (190 miles) offshore, beneath 2km of water and up to 5km of salt and rock.

To develop the new fields, and build onshore facilities including refineries, Petrobras plans to invest $45 billion a year for the next five years, the largest investment programme of any oil firm in the world. That is too much, too soon, both for Petrobras and for Brazil—especially because the government has decreed that a large proportion of the necessary equipment and supplies be produced at home.

How to be Norway, not Venezuela

By demanding so much local content, the government may in fact be favouring some of the leading foreign oil-service companies. Many would have set up in Brazil anyway; now, with less price competition from abroad, they will find it easier to charge over the odds. Seeking to ramp up production so fast, and relying so heavily on local supplies, also risks starving non-oil businesses of capital and skilled labour (which is in desperately short supply). Oil money is already helping to drive up Brazil’s currency, the real, hurting manufacturers struggling with high taxes and poor infrastructure.

When it comes to oil, striking the right balance between the state and the private sector, and between national content and foreign expertise, is notoriously tricky. But it can be done. To kick-start an oil-services industry, Norway calibrated its national-content rules realistically in scope and duration, required foreign suppliers to work closely with local firms and forced Statoil, its national oil company, to bid against rivals to develop fields. Above all, it invested in training the workforce.

But Brazilians need only to look at Mexico’s Pemex to see the politicised bloat that can follow an oil boom—or at Venezuela to see how oil can corrupt a country. Petrobras is not Pemex. Thanks to a meritocratic culture, and the discipline of having some of its stock traded, Petrobras is a leader in deep-sea oil. But operating as a monopolist is a poor way to maintain that edge. Happily, too, Brazil is not Venezuela. Its leaders can prove it by changing the rules to be more Norwegian.