We have one enemy in common, and it's killing people
In the long arc of Brazil's struggle against the pandemic, a regional governor finds himself caught between faith in national coordination and the quiet preparation of legal recourse. Wellington Dias of Piauí, speaking in September 2020, embodies a tension familiar to federalist democracies in crisis: when central authority falters, those closest to the suffering must decide how far they will go to protect their people. His appeal was not merely political — it was a plea for coherence in the face of death, and a reminder that vaccination, like justice, cannot wait indefinitely.
- With COVID-19 deaths mounting and hospitals suspending routine surgeries, Governor Dias publicly warned that he would take the federal government to court if a credible national vaccination plan failed to materialize.
- The governor of neighboring Maranhão had already filed suit at Brazil's Supreme Court, seeking state-level authority to purchase internationally approved vaccines — raising the stakes for the entire Northeast Consortium.
- Health Minister Pazuello offered a sixty-day timeline for ANVISA regulatory approval, but regional leaders found the promise too vague and the uncertainty too costly in human lives.
- Dias framed the vaccination crisis as a rare moment of national unity, urging Brazilians across political lines to recognize the coronavirus as a shared enemy rather than a partisan battleground.
- A January 2021 start for vaccination — prioritizing healthcare workers and the elderly — remained possible, but only if federal coordination improved; the governor's hopeful timeline was shadowed by his own conditional language.
Wellington Dias, governor of Piauí and head of the Northeast Consortium, sat before a local television camera in September 2020 with a quiet but unmistakable warning: if the federal government failed to deliver a coherent COVID-19 vaccination plan, he was prepared to take it to court. He called it Plan B — and said he prayed every day it would not be necessary.
The day before, Dias and fellow regional governors had met with Health Minister Eduardo Pazuello, who promised that Brazil's health regulator, ANVISA, would authorize a first vaccine within sixty days. For Dias, that was not enough certainty. The governor of Maranhão had already gone further, filing suit at the Supreme Court to allow states to purchase vaccines approved by international agencies but not yet by Brazilian regulators.
Dias was careful to lift the conversation above partisan lines. Whether one supported or opposed the Bolsonaro government, he argued, the coronavirus was a shared enemy — and a functioning vaccination campaign was a matter of survival, not politics. Brazil had long maintained a proud national immunization tradition, he noted, making the current disorganization all the more difficult to accept.
His projected timeline offered cautious hope: if vaccination began in January 2021, as São Paulo had already indicated, the first phase covering healthcare workers and the elderly could be complete by April or May, with a significant share of the population immunized by mid-year. But the optimism was tempered. Hospitals across Piauí had suspended routine surgeries, leaving patients with serious non-COVID conditions stranded in lengthening queues. The human cost of delay, Dias made clear, extended well beyond the virus itself.
"We will have a way forward," he said, "and Piauí will have vaccines starting in January." The words were firm. But the prayer behind Plan B told a different story — one of a leader holding hope in one hand and a lawsuit in the other.
Wellington Dias, the governor of Piauí and head of the Northeast Consortium, sat down with local television on Wednesday hoping he would not have to take the federal government to court. The previous day, he and other regional governors had met with Health Minister Eduardo Pazuello to demand a coherent national vaccination plan. Pazuello had offered a timeline: the National Health Surveillance Agency would authorize the first vaccine within sixty days. It was not enough certainty for Dias.
"Plan B, I confess I pray to God every day that we don't need it," Dias told the camera, "because it's the plan of the unknown. Only God knows what will happen." He was speaking of litigation—of taking the federal government to court to guarantee that Piauí residents could be vaccinated against COVID-19. He was not alone in considering it. The governor of Maranhão, Flávio Dino, had already filed suit at the Supreme Court seeking permission for states to purchase vaccines that had been approved by international health agencies but not yet by Brazil's regulators.
Dias framed the moment as one that transcended partisan politics. "Plan A is the Brazil plan," he said. "Right now we have a common enemy. Whether you support Bolsonaro, whether you're in opposition, whether you want to run for president or you don't—whether you're from party A or party B—we have one enemy in common, and it's called coronavirus, and it's killing people through COVID." He was appealing to something larger than the usual divisions. A functioning vaccination campaign, he argued, was not a political question. It was a matter of survival and economic recovery.
Brazil had always maintained a national immunization program, Dias pointed out. The vaccine represented the only real chance to stop the deaths and restart the economy. "It's not reasonable that the country's biggest problem becomes a political dispute," he said. "It makes no sense for a country like Brazil to have such disorganization around vaccines. We need Brazil to coordinate the national immunization plan and the strategic program. The minister said yes, and said there's a possibility of buying all the vaccines we need."
The timeline Dias outlined was hopeful if everything went according to plan. If vaccination began in January, as São Paulo had already signaled it would, then by April or May the first phase could be complete. By the start of the second half of the year, a substantial portion of the Brazilian population could be immunized. Healthcare workers treating COVID patients and elderly people would be prioritized in the early waves.
But beneath the optimism lay a deeper frustration. Hospitals had suspended routine surgeries and procedures across the state, waiting for the pandemic to subside. Patients with other serious conditions were stuck in a queue that grew longer each week. "How is something like this not a priority?" Dias asked. He had hammered out commitments with the minister the day before. "We will have a way forward," he said, "and Piauí will have vaccines starting in January." The statement was firm, but the conditional language—the invocation of Plan B, the prayer that litigation would not be necessary—revealed the uncertainty underneath.
Citas Notables
Plan B is the plan of the unknown. Only God knows what will happen.— Governor Wellington Dias, on potential legal action
We have a common enemy in coronavirus. It makes no sense for Brazil to have such disorganization around vaccines.— Governor Wellington Dias
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did Dias feel compelled to mention legal action at all? Why not just express confidence in the federal plan?
Because sixty days was too long. People were dying. Hospitals had stopped treating other diseases. He was signaling that if the federal government didn't move, the states would force the issue through the courts.
And Maranhão's governor had already done that?
Yes. Flávio Dino filed suit at the Supreme Court the same day, trying to get permission to buy vaccines that international agencies had already approved. It was a direct challenge to federal authority.
So Dias was trying to avoid that confrontation?
He was trying to give the federal government one more chance. But he was also making clear that the option existed. It was both a plea and a threat.
What was the real bottleneck—the federal government's caution, or something else?
The regulatory process. ANVISA had to approve each vaccine. That was legitimate, but it was slow. The states wanted the power to move faster, to buy what other countries had already deemed safe.
And if vaccination didn't start in January?
Then the suspended surgeries would continue. The queue of patients with other conditions would grow. The economic damage would deepen. Dias was saying: this is not abstract. This is people dying of things other than COVID because we're frozen.