Resistance in the Face of Fear

Urariano Mota at the gathering (second from left)

By Urariano Mota

Below is a transcript of a speech I gave at a gathering of young writers in Recife:

When I speak of rebellion within the phenomenon of resistance, I’m not referring to that kind of gratuitous rebellion. It’s a rebellion that is inherent in resistance. And resistance to what? It’s not something abstract; it’s resistance against the dictatorship.

Younger people don’t know—it’s as if the dictatorship happened centuries ago, back in the Middle Ages. But it’s a recent event. In Europe, Nazi criminals are still being sought today, because the crime of barbarism hasn’t ended. Many say, “What’s done is done.” That’s a mistake. So rebellion during the dictatorship had to do with resistance, and many well-intentioned young people, ask me today and say that the activists who fought against the dictatorship were very brave. I reply, “Brave dammit!” We were part of the resistance even though we were terrified; we weren’t brave, but we had to do it. It’s been said very well that courage is fear under control. And we didn’t always have that control.

This is in the novel “Never-Ending Youth”. It’s a true story that I’m writing about: when I took in a friend who was being pursued by the police—after they had raided his home—I hid him at the boarding house where I lived. The problem was that I could only afford one bed—the one I occupied. Each bed was one spot. So my roommate moved to the other bed in my own room. No one could know. Now, the worst part was that he went to the other bed, but under mine was a mimeograph machine! Look, a mimeograph machine was a kind of small printing press; it was with the mimeograph that we printed our subversive pamphlets. So imagine if the authorities raided the boarding house—they’d say they’d busted a communist cell.

But I didn’t do it out of heroism, no. I had no choice. Was I going to hand a comrade over to certain death? Was I going to hand a comrade over to political repression? I didn’t want to do that, but he had nowhere else to go. So we did those things out of fear—out of great fear—but we were forced to do them because we couldn’t help but do them.

Now, I’m going to tell you something—please pay attention. The boarding house is located today at the intersection of João de Barros Avenue and Suassuna Avenue in Recife. Ironically, that’s where the Pinto Ferreira Law School stands today. It’s been very well preserved; it’s in that very same building. I used to live on the first floor, and in the account I wrote in the novel, I went back into the building and asked the receptionist, the secretary, if I could visit a classroom. The place where I used to sleep is now a classroom. The secretary asked my name, and I replied, “Urariano.” She said, “What?” And I said, “Urariano.” And she said, “Ururururu.... Your name is a tongue twister.”

In short, here’s the thing: I get really pissed off—absolutely livid—when some politicians who call themselves leftists refer to fiction as a lie. It pisses me off! Fiction isn’t a lie. A lie is what people go around telling. Fiction, on the other hand, is an exploration of reality—it’s an exploration of reality with different names for the characters, but the story isn't a lie. If a fiction writer is a liar, goodbye. Go mind your own business somewhere else. Fiction is the truest reality there is. So never say that a novelist writes lies.

Urariano Mota is a Brazilian writer and journalist, born in Recife on September 29, 1950. He is the author of novels about the horrors of the Brazilian dictatorship, such as “Soledad no Recife” and “Never-Ending Youth”