A politician of death, encouraging his followers to defy a potentially lethal disease
No Natal de 2020, enquanto o Brasil contabilizava mais de 189 mil mortos pela COVID-19, o colunista Reinaldo Azevedo lançou um apelo solene: que as forças democráticas do país reconhecessem no discurso do presidente Jair Bolsonaro não apenas uma falha de liderança, mas um crime. Em um momento em que outros países endureciam restrições diante de novas variantes, o chefe de Estado brasileiro recusava máscaras e proclamava a infecção natural como virtude. A questão que Azevedo colocava não era apenas política, mas filosófica e moral: até onde vai a responsabilidade de quem ocupa o poder sobre as vidas que se perdem por suas palavras?
- Com 961 mortes registradas em um único dia, o Brasil vivia a urgência de uma crise sanitária que o próprio presidente transformava em arena ideológica.
- Bolsonaro recusou máscara publicamente, chamou a infecção natural de 'a melhor vacina' e mobilizou o cansaço coletivo para minar a adesão às medidas de proteção.
- O colunista cunhou o termo 'necropolítico' para nomear o fenômeno: um líder que instrumentaliza o desespero e a morte como ferramentas de poder.
- Enquanto o Reino Unido fechava cidades diante de variantes mais contagiosas, parte da população brasileira agia como se as consequências fossem abstratas ou distantes.
- Azevedo concluiu que a resposta democrática exige mais do que crítica — exige criminalização do discurso homicida e responsabilização jurídica do presidente.
- Ao se despedir para férias, o colunista deixou uma única orientação prática aos leitores: protejam-se, protejam quem amam, protejam os outros.
Na véspera do Natal de 2020, o colunista Reinaldo Azevedo publicou no UOL uma avaliação severa do ano que terminava. O Brasil acumulava 189.220 mortos pela COVID-19, com 961 óbitos registrados apenas na quarta-feira anterior. Para Azevedo, porém, a crise mais profunda não era o vírus — era o comportamento do homem encarregado de enfrentá-lo.
Jair Bolsonaro havia transformado a saúde pública em campo de batalha ideológico. Dias antes da coluna, o presidente visitou Santa Catarina e recusou uma máscara diante de câmeras — 'Eu não uso' — cercado de outros igualmente sem proteção. Mais grave ainda, declarou que a infecção natural era 'a melhor vacina', uma afirmação que Azevedo considerou sem paralelo entre líderes mundiais. O colunista o chamou de 'necropolítico': alguém que deliberadamente explorava o esgotamento coletivo e o desespero da pandemia para sabotar a vacinação e as medidas básicas de proteção.
O contraste com o restante do mundo era gritante. Enquanto o Reino Unido impunha lockdowns severos diante de variantes mais transmissíveis, e reinfecções já eram documentadas, parte do Brasil se movia como se o futuro fosse infinito — uma ilusão tão perigosa quanto o próprio vírus.
Azevedo encerrou a coluna com um apelo direto: que os democratas brasileiros organizassem esforços para criminalizar esse tipo de discurso, enquadrando-o como crime de responsabilidade e fala homicida. Sua única esperança real era que Bolsonaro um dia respondesse judicialmente por seus atos, servindo de prova de que palavras têm peso em uma democracia. Antes de entrar em férias, deixou uma última mensagem aos leitores: cuidem de vocês, cuidem de quem amam, cuidem dos outros. Era, por ora, a única vacina disponível.
Reinaldo Azevedo, a columnist who had been writing on UOL for nearly fourteen years, took to his page on Christmas Eve 2020 to deliver a stark assessment of the year ending and the one ahead. Brazil was exhausted. The pandemic was nowhere near finished. By December 23rd, the country had recorded 189,220 deaths from COVID-19, with 961 more added just that Wednesday alone. And yet, Azevedo wrote, the nation's real crisis was not the virus itself but the man leading the government's response to it.
Jair Bolsonaro had turned public health into an ideological war zone. Days before Azevedo's column, the president had visited Santa Catarina and, when offered a mask, refused it outright—"I don't wear one"—while surrounded by others equally unmasked. More provocatively, he had called natural infection "the best vaccine," a statement so reckless that Azevedo struggled to find a comparable example anywhere in the world. What other leader would weaponize a disease that was actively killing hundreds of Brazilians every day?
The columnist described Bolsonaro as a "necropolitician"—a politician of death—someone who had deliberately chosen to manipulate public despair and the fatigue of lockdown measures to wage war against vaccination and basic precautions. The president was not simply failing to lead during a health crisis; he was actively encouraging his followers and the broader population to defy a potentially lethal disease. People who had already recovered from COVID-19 were reporting long-term side effects, yet the message from the top remained one of dismissal and defiance.
While Brazilians gathered on beaches and in streets as if tomorrow would never arrive, the United Kingdom was imposing strict lockdowns in response to more contagious virus variants spreading rapidly. Reinfection was not only possible—it was already happening. Yet much of Brazil moved forward as though consequences did not exist, or as though the future stretched infinitely ahead, which amounted to the same dangerous delusion.
Azevedo's conclusion was unsparing. He called for Brazilian democrats to organize and criminalize such discourse, to remove it from the political sphere and prosecute it as a crime against humanity. The president's words and actions constituted crimes of responsibility and homicidal speech. The columnist's hope—his only real optimism—was that Bolsonaro would one day stand trial for these crimes, that his case would serve as proof that words and deeds carry consequences in a democracy. It was a bleak Christmas wish, but perhaps the only honest one available. As Azevedo prepared to take a month's vacation from his column, he left his readers with a single instruction: protect yourselves, protect those you love, and protect others. That, for now, was the only vaccine that mattered.
Citações Notáveis
What other president or politician in the world would dare treat coronavirus—which had already killed nearly 190,000 people—as 'the best vaccine'?— Reinaldo Azevedo, UOL columnist
Democratic forces must organize to criminalize this kind of discourse and pursue charges for crimes of responsibility and homicidal speech.— Reinaldo Azevedo, UOL columnist
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When you call someone a "necropolitician," what exactly are you describing?
Someone who has made death itself a political tool. Not someone indifferent to death, but someone actively using it—encouraging it, even—as a way to consolidate power or prove a point.
But Bolsonaro wasn't directly killing people. He was just refusing to wear a mask and saying natural infection was good.
That's the calculation that makes it so dangerous. He was using his platform and authority to tell millions of people that the precautions were unnecessary, that the virus wasn't a real threat. When you have that kind of power and you use it to push people toward infection, you're responsible for what follows.
Did people actually listen to him?
Enough did. You saw the beaches packed, the streets crowded. The government wasn't enforcing restrictions; it was actively undermining them from the top. That creates permission.
So the column is really about accountability—making sure this kind of thing has consequences?
Yes. The columnist is saying that if we don't prosecute this, if we let it pass as just another political disagreement, we're telling future leaders that they can do the same thing. Democracy only works if words and actions have weight.
Even if prosecution seems unlikely?
Especially then. The point isn't whether it happens tomorrow. It's that someone had to name it clearly, on the record, as a crime. That matters.