Utopia and the Message – Folha de S. Paulo, July 29, 1980
by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Unexpected circumstances kept me from writing about John Paul II’s visit to Brazil, but I am now doing so with the hope of completing it in a future article.
This task means a great deal to me because I see the Holy Church as the core of my soul, and, so to speak, devotion to the papacy as the heart of my devotion to the Church. I need not say more to express the profound feelings I have for this subject.
In summary, the story of the twelve days John Paul II spent here can be divided into two parts: a) what he said and did; b) how Brazilians welcomed his teachings and attitudes.
Usually, I would start with “a.” But his speeches cover 277 pages in the Brazilian edition I have here. In fact, I also plan to study this material along with the text in L’Osservatore Romano, the unofficial newspaper of the Holy See, so it will take some time to analyze these important texts thoroughly. While finding time here and there for this study, I can no longer delay my silence in the welcoming pages of Folha.
I will therefore begin with part “b,” which discusses the reaction of the Brazilian people.
During John Paul II’s visit, Brazil was filled with anticipation. He was the main subject of discussion on television, radio, and in the press. Brazilians eagerly absorbed all the news. Even when busy with their daily routines and unable to focus entirely on the esteemed visitor, he stayed in their subconscious.
This phenomenon lasted for another two or three days after the visit ended.
Then, most people returned fully to their troubled daily routines, filled with tyrannically absorbing threats both big and small. A large part of the national opinion was “disconnected” from those days. For them, the visit now belongs to the past, especially in these harsh days of immediacy where only the future matters.
But this, which affected an undisputed majority, does not include a significant minority of Brazilians who still cherish the echoes and memories of the papal visit. There are subtle differences within this nostalgic group. Some—the majority of this minority—were deeply influenced by John Paul II’s presence. Certainly, because they saw him as the Vicar of Jesus Christ. But also, and most notably, because they were captivated by some of Karol Wojtyla’s very personal qualities. His vibrant health, heroic (and very humorous) activity, confident communication, and his expressive tendency for dialogue and harmony gave many the impression that the Pontiff had his own way of ending the flood of fears, dangers, and sufferings that trouble Brazil and the world. Alongside this approach, suggested by the friendly mischievousness of his eyes and lips, the cheerful optimism of his face, and the subtle invitation for everyone to wait and rejoice, a clearly personal method of applying it was emerging. Karol Wojtyla’s talents and John Paul II’s charisma seemed to blend together to present, as a whole, the almost telepathic certainty of the success he would achieve.
Anyone looking at him would get the impression that he was already savoring the success that the illustrious visitor “promises.” His ability to persuade others that this success will happen was more powerful than his spoken or written words. Only Wojtyla, so to speak, had the transpsychological gifts to carry out this tactic and do so effortlessly. In short, it was a task of reconciling all tangled and conflicting rights, all embittered and unyielding interests, and creating a sweet paradise on earth.
Now, our population, whose psychological makeup seems suited for this, has deeply “captured” this message. Brazilians prefer to learn by listening rather than reading, and by seeing even more than listening: that’s how intuitive we are.
I believe that the joy of receiving this optimistic message in person largely explains the excitement (which I would call ‘frenetic,’ if this term had no pejorative connotation) that many people felt just by seeing the Pontiff enter, leave, smile, please, or even pray.
I have the sense that, among the sizable minority still experiencing the visit, this happiness isn’t fading but is becoming even more important.
Among the most affectionate people in the world—since we are just as loving as we are intuitive—there are those who believe they are already in the Kingdom, in the millennium, in paradise regained. No more misunderstandings, conflicts of interest, struggles, or deprivation: the mysterious but irresistible Woytilan know-how will end all of this once and for all.
The most interesting part is that the Pontiff didn’t say any of this. But in the minds of his nostalgic followers, it’s becoming clear.
Many will say it is a generous, invigorating, and soothing certainty. I fear it is a utopia because I see no way to justify this hope that seems to be forming in some people in light of Catholic doctrine.
Indeed, the Church teaches us that this earth is a place of exile, a valley of tears, a battlefield, and not a place of delights. Above all, perfect and lasting harmony among people will never exist. Our Lord Jesus Christ was the Prince of Peace, and without Him, all peace is mere deception. However, it was foretold that He would be “set for the fall, and for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which shall be contradicted … so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed” (Lk. 2:34-35). And He said of Himself: “Do not think that I came to send peace upon earth: I came not to send peace, but the sword. For I came to set man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law” (Mt 10:34-35).
Therefore, imagining a world without struggles and setbacks is like imagining a world without Jesus Christ.
As I make these statements, I feel as if I see from afar the most furious, aggressive, intolerant, and temperamental sect writhing in frustration. It is composed of the family of souls who dream of a world without ideologies, hierarchies, borders, currency, fences, privacy, or individual rights. The family of souls that advocates tolerance for everyone but despises those who dare to disagree with this excessive tolerance. Those who want freedom of speech and opinion for all, except for those who use words to oppose it.
I am not disturbed by this roaring anger. I have heard it since the early days of my thoughts. As I moved through life, step by step, I felt its hateful stare, its traps, and its hissing slanders chasing after me in a constant crescendo.
How can I agree that, as Pope, John Paul II should be regarded as a doctor of this utopia, and as Karol Wojtyla, the condenser and telepathic transmitter of these sentimental effluvia on a global scale?
It’s impossible. On the other hand, I am happy to say, even before reading all his speeches in Brazil, that none of them promote the idea of this utopia to the world.
And since nothing suggests I will have finished reading John Paul II’s speeches by next week, I plan to present myself to my utopian readers with a message that will justify me. An august, splendid, and resonant message that originated among men in the distant 17th century, and which today descends from heaven, from the highest heavens, right beside the throne of Our Lady.
Oh, how much this message will bring joy to thoughtful minds, brave hearts, and pure souls!
