t multiple points while reading “Operation Car Wash” I found myself having to put down the book and take stock of what I had just read. Could the corruption the authors outline really have taken place? Could the extent of state capture be that complete? Did Brazil’s president really use the equivalent of Brazil’s Air Force One to transport bribes, as the authors allege? The short answer was, yes, it really was that bad and what the authors describe really did happen. For that alone, “Operation Car Wash” is a truly remarkable book.
Two of the investigators into Brazil’s systemic corruption, Jorge Pontes and Marcio Anselmo, offer an in-depth look at how the multi-year investigation unfolded as well as the size and scale of corruption which beggar’s belief. “Operation Car Wash” reads very much like the police procedural it is—the authors, both members of Brazil’s Federal Police, are very methodical in laying out who did what to whom and when, how they were connected, what the evidence showed, and what the outcomes of the investigations were and were not. Indeed, it was more often a case of a non-outcome due to systemic corruption and political interference. Pontes and Anselmo are the quintessential investigators who, instead of “following the money,” “followed the pen” to see who was enabling the kleptocratic behavior—a path that led to the top of Brazilian politics.
The brazenness of the thievery is staggering. A construction business had what amounted to a department of bribes. Businesses colluded on carving up government contracts and business opportunities so much so that they established a set of rules denoting how the game was played and who was eligible for what kickback. The World Cup and Olympic stadium construction contracts were based on grossly over-inflated costs and unnecessary in a country already filled with football stadiums. In order to justify their value, thousands of games at sell-out capacity would be necessary for years to come.
Then president Rousseff raced to install the former president, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, as chief of staff to ensure he would face only potential investigation by the higher courts, not the federal police. Congressional representatives and senators were outright bribed, but when uncovered it was merely claimed that the payments were “unreported campaign financing.”
The authors provide an unparalleled view into what they term “institutionalized crime” as opposed to “organized crime.” The latter is the stuff of Al Capone—the former is what happens when the whole of government and whole of society colludes into expropriating the wealth of the state for personal gain. It is rare to get such an inside look at institutionalized corruption—corruption that runs from the legislative branch through to the office of the president, aided and abetted by the judiciary, and facilitated by corporate titans.
What is continuously incredible about “Operation Car Wash” is the fact that this is not like the stories we hear about a mayor caught with money in the freezer or a congressman misappropriating political donations. As bad as those incidents are, they were identified, investigated, tried, and later prosecuted. The institutions of state functioned as designed. Police collected evidence, district or federal attorneys brought charges, judges presided over cases, and punishment was meted out—satisfactory or unsatisfactory the outcomes may have been, but the process worked.
Awareness of global kleptocracies surged in the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The United States, the United Kingdom, and Europe embarked on an aggressive campaign of sanctions targeting oligarchs and kleptocrats to a degree unseen in recent history. Yachts and properties were seized, visas and residency permits canceled, bank accounts frozen, and financial transactions disclosed. Rhetorically, at least, these states promised a significant change—no longer would kleptocratic gains be allowed into the financial systems of the West. Well, at least Russian kleptocratic gains.
Contrast this with the obstacles Pontes and Anselmo encountered. From the outset of their careers, investigating corruption was a dead-end career path. There was no interest within the Federal Police to pursue these cases. Rather, drug trafficking was the way to make a career. In one incident early in Pontes’s career, he was going upriver to interdict a boat believed to be filled with drugs. In the process of stopping and inspecting suspect vessels, they came across one fully laden with turtles destined for the soup bowls of Brazil’s wealthy. Like corruption, widespread environmental crime just didn’t register as a priority until he pushed it within the system, and even then, it was a lengthy process.
As the Federal Police unpacked elements of Operation Car Wash they encountered resistance. They found a legal system designed to protect the wealthy and powerful, including judges who would throw out investigations and evidence for the flimsiest of reasons. Cases were plagued by leaks and obstructionism. Were Brazil fully developed and its social issues addressed, this would certainly be a problem. Yet, given the state of Brazil’s inequality, crime, development challenges, and other societal challenges, this corruption represents a radical diversion of state resources for private gain in a country that can ill-afford such transfers.
As others like Catherine Belton, Tom Burgis, Casey Michel, and Oliver Bullough (a review of his forthcoming “Butler to the World” will be published later this month) have written, the processes by which Russian oligarchs expropriate their wealth is the same which oligarchs the world over seek to hide their ill-gotten gains. As strong as those accounts are—and they are, indeed, some of the finest books I’ve read—they are written from a perspective outside of the system. Pontes and Anselmo’s account provides a level of insider detail that has to be read to be believed.
“Operation Car Wash” could have benefited from a journalist’s touch. For lay readers the personalities, parties, factions, companies, and ins and outs of Brazilian society and politics are often overwhelming. Keeping track of who is paying whom and where they sit within Brazil’s political structure is challenging, but rewarding nonetheless. A journalist sitting side-by-side with the officers could have tightened up the narrative and grounded it for readers who are unfamiliar with Brazil. Expanding the aperture of the investigation to the international component would have also been interesting. While the authors do touch on some of the overseas elements—contracts and financial malfeasance, for example—they do not dive deeply into the transnational aspects of the investigations.
The level of complexity the authors provide is, nonetheless, a virtue. While it is, at times, overwhelming, taking a step back one sees the Brazilian forest of corruption for the trees. Each case, each investigation, every twist and turn, all of it adds up to the sheer size and scope of the institutionalized corruption within Brazil. The only heroes in this story are the honest and dedicated members of the Federal Police who doggedly pursued these cases.
While much attention is paid to President Jair Bolsonaro and his authoritarian tendencies—described by Gideon Rachman in his latest book “The Age of the Strongman”—one wonders if attention to Brazil’s institutionalized crime has ebbed, allowing it to creep back into the shadows. The long-term prognosis for Brazil’s democracy in light of institutionalized crime and proto-authoritarianism is worrying. How can one expect Brazilian voters to believe in democracy when the expropriation of state wealth is the norm?
The authors outline a series of recommendations on how to address the challenge, but these appear to be akin to stopping a kleptocratic whale by politely asking it to swim somewhere else. A sustained anti-corruption campaign, significant legislative change, harsher penalties for “white collar crime,” and voters demanding more transparency are all necessary, but insufficient. How can one stop corruption of the magnitude described in “Operation Car Wash” when everyone is in on the game?
a global affairs media network
A "Car Wash” That Reveals Brazil’s Dirty Deals
Photo by Ramon Buçard via Unsplash.
June 4, 2022
Jorge Pontes' & Marcio Anselmo's new book “Operation Car Wash” presents an in-depth analysis of corruption and the case that shook Brazil. In his latest book review, Joshua Huminski asks why corruption in Brazil is so deep and what it means for Brazilian democracy.
A
t multiple points while reading “Operation Car Wash” I found myself having to put down the book and take stock of what I had just read. Could the corruption the authors outline really have taken place? Could the extent of state capture be that complete? Did Brazil’s president really use the equivalent of Brazil’s Air Force One to transport bribes, as the authors allege? The short answer was, yes, it really was that bad and what the authors describe really did happen. For that alone, “Operation Car Wash” is a truly remarkable book.
Two of the investigators into Brazil’s systemic corruption, Jorge Pontes and Marcio Anselmo, offer an in-depth look at how the multi-year investigation unfolded as well as the size and scale of corruption which beggar’s belief. “Operation Car Wash” reads very much like the police procedural it is—the authors, both members of Brazil’s Federal Police, are very methodical in laying out who did what to whom and when, how they were connected, what the evidence showed, and what the outcomes of the investigations were and were not. Indeed, it was more often a case of a non-outcome due to systemic corruption and political interference. Pontes and Anselmo are the quintessential investigators who, instead of “following the money,” “followed the pen” to see who was enabling the kleptocratic behavior—a path that led to the top of Brazilian politics.
The brazenness of the thievery is staggering. A construction business had what amounted to a department of bribes. Businesses colluded on carving up government contracts and business opportunities so much so that they established a set of rules denoting how the game was played and who was eligible for what kickback. The World Cup and Olympic stadium construction contracts were based on grossly over-inflated costs and unnecessary in a country already filled with football stadiums. In order to justify their value, thousands of games at sell-out capacity would be necessary for years to come.
Then president Rousseff raced to install the former president, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, as chief of staff to ensure he would face only potential investigation by the higher courts, not the federal police. Congressional representatives and senators were outright bribed, but when uncovered it was merely claimed that the payments were “unreported campaign financing.”
The authors provide an unparalleled view into what they term “institutionalized crime” as opposed to “organized crime.” The latter is the stuff of Al Capone—the former is what happens when the whole of government and whole of society colludes into expropriating the wealth of the state for personal gain. It is rare to get such an inside look at institutionalized corruption—corruption that runs from the legislative branch through to the office of the president, aided and abetted by the judiciary, and facilitated by corporate titans.
What is continuously incredible about “Operation Car Wash” is the fact that this is not like the stories we hear about a mayor caught with money in the freezer or a congressman misappropriating political donations. As bad as those incidents are, they were identified, investigated, tried, and later prosecuted. The institutions of state functioned as designed. Police collected evidence, district or federal attorneys brought charges, judges presided over cases, and punishment was meted out—satisfactory or unsatisfactory the outcomes may have been, but the process worked.
Awareness of global kleptocracies surged in the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The United States, the United Kingdom, and Europe embarked on an aggressive campaign of sanctions targeting oligarchs and kleptocrats to a degree unseen in recent history. Yachts and properties were seized, visas and residency permits canceled, bank accounts frozen, and financial transactions disclosed. Rhetorically, at least, these states promised a significant change—no longer would kleptocratic gains be allowed into the financial systems of the West. Well, at least Russian kleptocratic gains.
Contrast this with the obstacles Pontes and Anselmo encountered. From the outset of their careers, investigating corruption was a dead-end career path. There was no interest within the Federal Police to pursue these cases. Rather, drug trafficking was the way to make a career. In one incident early in Pontes’s career, he was going upriver to interdict a boat believed to be filled with drugs. In the process of stopping and inspecting suspect vessels, they came across one fully laden with turtles destined for the soup bowls of Brazil’s wealthy. Like corruption, widespread environmental crime just didn’t register as a priority until he pushed it within the system, and even then, it was a lengthy process.
As the Federal Police unpacked elements of Operation Car Wash they encountered resistance. They found a legal system designed to protect the wealthy and powerful, including judges who would throw out investigations and evidence for the flimsiest of reasons. Cases were plagued by leaks and obstructionism. Were Brazil fully developed and its social issues addressed, this would certainly be a problem. Yet, given the state of Brazil’s inequality, crime, development challenges, and other societal challenges, this corruption represents a radical diversion of state resources for private gain in a country that can ill-afford such transfers.
As others like Catherine Belton, Tom Burgis, Casey Michel, and Oliver Bullough (a review of his forthcoming “Butler to the World” will be published later this month) have written, the processes by which Russian oligarchs expropriate their wealth is the same which oligarchs the world over seek to hide their ill-gotten gains. As strong as those accounts are—and they are, indeed, some of the finest books I’ve read—they are written from a perspective outside of the system. Pontes and Anselmo’s account provides a level of insider detail that has to be read to be believed.
“Operation Car Wash” could have benefited from a journalist’s touch. For lay readers the personalities, parties, factions, companies, and ins and outs of Brazilian society and politics are often overwhelming. Keeping track of who is paying whom and where they sit within Brazil’s political structure is challenging, but rewarding nonetheless. A journalist sitting side-by-side with the officers could have tightened up the narrative and grounded it for readers who are unfamiliar with Brazil. Expanding the aperture of the investigation to the international component would have also been interesting. While the authors do touch on some of the overseas elements—contracts and financial malfeasance, for example—they do not dive deeply into the transnational aspects of the investigations.
The level of complexity the authors provide is, nonetheless, a virtue. While it is, at times, overwhelming, taking a step back one sees the Brazilian forest of corruption for the trees. Each case, each investigation, every twist and turn, all of it adds up to the sheer size and scope of the institutionalized corruption within Brazil. The only heroes in this story are the honest and dedicated members of the Federal Police who doggedly pursued these cases.
While much attention is paid to President Jair Bolsonaro and his authoritarian tendencies—described by Gideon Rachman in his latest book “The Age of the Strongman”—one wonders if attention to Brazil’s institutionalized crime has ebbed, allowing it to creep back into the shadows. The long-term prognosis for Brazil’s democracy in light of institutionalized crime and proto-authoritarianism is worrying. How can one expect Brazilian voters to believe in democracy when the expropriation of state wealth is the norm?
The authors outline a series of recommendations on how to address the challenge, but these appear to be akin to stopping a kleptocratic whale by politely asking it to swim somewhere else. A sustained anti-corruption campaign, significant legislative change, harsher penalties for “white collar crime,” and voters demanding more transparency are all necessary, but insufficient. How can one stop corruption of the magnitude described in “Operation Car Wash” when everyone is in on the game?
