Do you need a butcher? The Brazilian government has one on its staff. How about a hairdresser, a masseuse or masseur, a baggage handler, a metal worker, a Venetian blind technician, or a decorator? You will find all these workers and dozens more occupying roles as public servants for the federal government. The Agriculture Ministry, for example, has the luxury of employing five full-time governesses. By the government's own admission, at least 44,000 of these workers could be sent home without harming the administration of the country and with substantial payroll reductions.

Since times immemorial and inspired by its Portuguese discoverers and settlers, Brazil has been a bureaucrat's paradise. "Bureaucracy resists," said President Fernando Henrique Cardoso recently when complaining about some bureaucrats who he said were preventing the implementation of constitutional reforms. "When we decide, as we did, to transfer responsibilities and resources, certainly Brasília's bureaucracy loses power. The bureaucrat becomes very important when he doesn't sign a document."

Brazil is so aware of its bureaucracy addiction that General-President João Baptista de Oliveira Figueiredo, who governed from 1979 to 1985, created a much-ridiculed Ministry of Debureaucratization to try to solve the problem. Eleven years after the demise of the National Program on Debureaucratization, Brazil is more awash than ever in red tape.

In São Paulo alone, a city with 11 million people, an average of 127,000 signatures are notarized every day at the city's 85 notary publics so documents will have legal value. In some instances, bureaucracy has become even worse than it was before the creation of the debureaucratization ministry. Since the end of last year, for example, the signature of someone selling a car in the city of São Paulo will be accepted only if the notarization is made with the interested party signing the document in front of the notary public.

What's happened? "Since the impeachment of President Fernando Collor de Mello, the country was engulfed by the winds of moralization, and the number of required papers has increased," says João Geraldo Piquet, former executive secretary for the debureaucratization program, in an interview with the daily newspaper O Estado de São Paulo. "The efforts to simplify matters have been completely abandoned," he adds.

São Paulo's Detran (Departamento de Trânsito -- Traffic Department) had no choice but to get tougher, said Director Enos Beolchi Júnior. An investigation conducted by the organization in December 1994 showed that 82 percent of the 1.8 million cases being considered had at least one falsified or irregular document.

In June of this year, 29 Detran workers were fired, accused of participating in a corruption scheme that made life much easier for some middlemen and those citizens willing to contribute a cervejinha (a little beer), a synonym for grease. Beolchi, however, was complaining that such firings were very harmful for Detran since that department is already in need of many more hands. "And besides," he says, "our obsolete computer system goes on the fritz several times a day, compounding our problems." Even though processes of granting drivers licenses shouldn't take more than three to five days, these documents are not ready in less than three to four weeks.

The bureaucratic maze has created a vast and lucrative network of middlemen called despachantes, whose sole purpose is to facilitate obtaining these documents. In the state of São Paulo there are 10,500 despachante offices, with nearly half, 4680, located in the capital city. Needless to say, the whole system marches much faster when oiled with kickbacks and gratuities.

Last year, promoter Ruth Escobar complained that she had to appeal to "friends in power," including President Fernando Henrique Cardoso, and spend $60,000 on despachantes in order to get scenery released from Customs and start her Festival Internacional de Artes Cênicas (International Festival of Scenic Arts) on time. Today there are specialized despachantes who deal with cultural events and charge no less than $2,000 for their work.

The American consulate in São Paulo has considered cutting some of its cultural offerings, such are the difficulties of importing foreign art. It's common that the work of clearing Customs be given to a despachante. But even this involves bureaucracy, as the Receita Federal (Federal Revenue Service) asks that a power of attorney with eight copies be given to the despachante and that the diplomat signing the power of attorney present a certified copy of his own ID card.

At the end of last year, five sculptures by French artist Auguste Rodin had to wait 45 days at Cumbica, São Paulo's international airport, being released only after the direct intervention of the chief inspector of the Federal Revenue Service in São Paulo, Flávio del Comuni, who was contacted by the French consulate there.

Any painting, sculpture, or film that enters Brazil, even when destined for an exposition or fair, is treated like any other merchandise: The responsible party has to pay what is called a "caução bancária" (banking bond), which is equal to the amount -- the II (Imposto de Importação -- Import Tax) and the IPI (Imposto sobre Produtos Industrializados -- Tax on Industrialized Products) -- that would be paid if the work of art were bought. The money is returned by Caixa Econômica (Federal Savings Bank) after the exhibition, but it can amount to thousands of dollars for valuable pieces, and this practice may hurt exhibit promoters financially.

Reconhecimento de firma (signature notarization) and autenticação de documentos (document certification) are an integral part of every Brazilian's daily life. People maintain cards of signatures similar to the ones used by Banks in the U.S. sometimes in several Cartórios. To have his signature in a Cartório, the person has to pay a fee and present his ID and CIC, the Federal Revenue Service card. From getting a library card to obtaining a death certificate, very few things can be done without the necessary stamps from the always-crowded Cartórios and Tabelionatos which dispense these services.

Cartórios, which have license to make money and are a synonym of privilege, are a concession from the state to people who are cozy with those in power. Once granted, the benefit becomes a hereditary feud as it is transferred from generation to generation. The new 1988 Constitution changed this, but only on paper, as new requirements that owners of the establishments be accepted through competitive examination have yet to be implemented. Bureaucracy is so ingrained in the public psyche that even laws created a decade ago, like the one that ended the obligation of certifying copies of documents, have been ignored.

Brazilians live submerged in a sea of paper, starting with the birth certificate which is procured from a Cartório or Tabelião, a notary public with much more power than those in the U.S.. Curiously, the mother has 15 days to request the paper without any penalty, while the father has 60 days. To get a Certidão de Nascimento, the father or mother -- after buying a special form (document of deposit) at any stationery shop, filling it out, and going to a designated bank to pay the necessary fee -- must present a marriage license (without which the father's name cannot be given to the child unless the father himself goes to the Cartório), a hospital declaration confirming the birth, and the mother's ID. Those who are unemployed or who make $100 a month or less don't have to pay for the birth certificate.

Studying at a public school requires less paperwork and effort than most other activities involving bureaucracy. At least in Rio, all the parents have to do is to go to the school closest to their home, bringing proof of residence (a water or electricity bill will do), a birth certificate, and a 1.2" x 1.6" photo of the child..

To get a Carteira de Identidade (Identity Card), an indispensable official document, the problem is not the price, but the work involved. First, a form must be bought in any stationery shop, and two 1.2" x 1.6" photos taken by any photographer. The applicant must also bring a certified copy or an original Birth Certificate or Marriage License. There is no fee to get the document, but this apparent simplicity can be deceiving. The most formidable barrier are the lines to deliver the papers at the Secretaria de Segurança Pública (Department of Public Security). And the document is sent home by mail no sooner than one month after the application is received.

To get a job, the applicant needs lung X-rays, a battery of police certificates that prove his honesty, and a Carteira Profissional (Professional Card) from the federal Departamento do Trabalho (Work Department). To get this latter document, applicants, including minors, must present an ID, proof of residence, and a 1.2" x 1.6" photo. Those who worked previously without registering the job on their work card must go to a branch of the Caixa Econômica Federal (Federal Savings Bank) to fill out a questionnaire about their former employer before being allowed to file for a Carteira de Trabalho.

This official working permit is a booklet in which the employer writes the employee's date of admission, vacations, contributions paid, and even salary raises. All workers when they start paying their dues to the INSS (Instituto Nacional de Seguridade Social -- Social Security National Institute) are rewarded with a new document: the PIS (Programa de Integração Social -- Social Integration Program).

As in the U.S., a Driver's License (Carteira de Motorista or Carteira de Habilitação) is required to drive a vehicle. The minimum age to get this document is 18. Obtaining a Driver's License can be a little more complicated than getting other documents since it involves an eye examination and a psychological test, as well as a written test and a driving test. At least in the big cities, the practice of buying a ready license, saving the applicant the trouble of going through any tests, seems to have all but disappeared.

Voting is mandatory in Brazil, and naturally all citizens must add to their vast arsenal of documents a Título de Eleitor (Voter Card). Those who don't vote may have to pay a fine or lose some of their salary. The vote is such a sacred duty that Brazilians living overseas must go to a consulate when there is an election in Brazil to "justify" their absence and obtain the necessary papers to prove they didn't forget their obligation. During national elections, Brazilians overseas are allowed to vote at the consulates.

For tax purposes, every Brazilian citizen is supposed to have a CPF (Cadastro de Pessoa Física -- Natural Person's Record) number, which is provided on a narrow card called CIC (Cartão de Identificação do Contribuinte -- Taxpayer's Identity Card). The CPF is asked routinely for many commercial transactions.

For men, there is another required document that they will be asked for throughout their entire lives. It is the Certificado de Alistamento Militar (Military Draft Certificate), a paper that proves the individual dedicated one year to the Army or was duly exempted from doing so.

The dead are not spared the bureaucracy. An Atestado de Óbito (Death Certificate) costs only $1.98, but the document won't be issued without a doctor's declaration and his signature duly certified. For babies that die soon after birth, the law requires a Birth Certificate followed by a Death Certificate. When there is nobody to prove the death, there are more costs and papers involved, including a process of death justification and a fee to pay for the magistrates' association, called mútua dos magistrados. Everyone who needs a birth certificate, a marriage license, or who buys real estate pays from $1 to $3 to this private association. It can be absurd, but it is legal.

If Brazilians have so many hurdles to clear to exercise their citizenry, those trying to conduct business must have a special mettle, especially if they want to start their own company. Luís Carlos Ewald, a professor of Economics at PUC-Rio (Pontifícia Universidade Católica -- Pontifical Catholic University, wrote recently in Rio's daily Jornal do Brasil: "How many opportunities of generating new jobs were lost due to the discouragement of heroic entrepreneurs who gave up due to the unnecessary documents, negative or positive certificates, marriage and death certificates, medical and dental certificates, police clearance, vaccinations, pedigrees, CGCs (Cadastro Geral de Contribuintes -- Taxpayers' General Register), IPTUs (Imposto Predial e Territorial Urbano -- Urban Building and Land Tax), alvarás (licenses), permits, authorizations, collateral signatures, cadasters, criminal records, X-rays, insurance, paternity DNA, certified signatures, certificate of occupancy, proof of residence, IPVA (Imposto sobre Propriedade de Veículos Automotores -- Tax on Ownership of Automotive Vehicles), blood group, Rh factor, and so many more, all with certified photocopies."

To start a sole ownership company, the individual faces a via Dolorosa of different places and assorted lines. He has to present a $35 Registro de Declaração de Firma (Business Declaration Record) obtained at the Junta Comercial (Board of Trade), a Fire Department Approval Certificate ($37), and a $208 Alvará de Localização (Localization License) issued by City Hall. For a business corporation, these documents must be accompanied by a certificate showing that the specific business name is not in use, as well as a Registro do Contrato Social (Certificate of Incorporation Registration).

In 1995 alone, IOB, a publication of business tax information, published 3,800 pages related to changes made during the year in the rules for payment of taxes to the Union, the state, and the municipalities. This amounts to 15 changes per day! And while in the U.S. or Europe a person is able to start a business in as little as two days, in Brazil this process takes at least 40 days. Up to 96% of small businesses are not able to deal with the company's accounting without hiring an accountant. And business people spend 26% of their time dealing with official bureaucracy, according to a study conducted by CNI (Confederação Nacional da Indústria -- National Confederation of the Industry).

According to Sebrae (Serviço Brasileiro de Apoio à Micro e Pequena Empresa -- Brazilian Service for Helping Micro and Small Businesses), anyone willing to jump through all the bureaucratic hoops would require up to six months to be able to open a company. A little grease, however, can dramatically reduce this wait to a couple of days. Some people, like photographer Tércio Luz have learned this the hard way. He told O Estado de São Paulo about his marathon effort to open a studio. Accountants from the Junta Comercial do Estado de São Paulo offered to get him all the documentation in two days for an extra $600 under the table. He decided to go by the rules. Three months later, with a place already rented, he was still waiting to get his permit. For him, to do things the honest way became very expensive.

In some cases, the Brazilian dream of becoming an international business partner is just that, a dream. The bureaucratic traps are like land mines ready to explode. Even though Brazilians are in need of electrical appliances, for example, they cannot be imported unless the product comes with a manual in Portuguese (when Spanish would do just fine) and the distributor has enough original spare parts for repair, even when parts from other manufacturers could be used without any problem.

The situation can reach Kafkaesque heights. To import antidepressant medication that contains lithium, for example, two licenses are required: one from the Health Ministry and another from the CNEN (Comissão Nacional de Energia Nuclear -- Nuclear Energy National Commission). The latter agency is involved because Lithium is a substance used in thermonuclear weapons. It doesn't matter that the product is also used in alloys, ceramics, and medicinal drugs. Such barriers are often imposed under pressure of national business lobbying groups, making a product unavailable for six months or more or prompting the would-be importer to give up the idea of getting the item.

With globalization, the Brazilian bureaucracy has become a turnoff for foreign companies looking to invest in the country. A just-released World Bank's comparative study between Chile, Peru and Brazil shows that in Chile a private firm's worker spends 0.5% of his time dealing with governmental bureaucracy, in Peru 4%, and in Brazil 5%.

According to Geoffrey Shepherd, a World Bank economist who participated in São Paulo in a seminar on the costs of doing business in Brazil, the "complex and discretionary" nature of the Brazilian bureaucracy forces private companies to have to constantly negotiate with the government. His conclusion: "This encourages corruption." Shepherd believes that Brazil loses an investor every time trade conditions are the same in competing foreign countries, as strong regulation scares off prospective investors.

Foreign companies can operate in the country only after making a special request to the Ministry of Industry and Commerce and securing permission by presidential decree. Several sectors still need clearance from different departments. Oil products, for example, are controlled by the DNC (Departamento Nacional de Combustíveis -- National Fuel Department); for wheat there is the CRTM, the Department of Wheat. Arms and ammunition are linked directly to the Ministry of the Army.

Active and retired bureaucrats have been shamelessly sucking the system. At the end of 1995, weekly newsmagazine Veja revealed that a still-open audit had revealed 1,851 public servants with salaries higher than the $8,500 paid President Fernando Henrique Cardoso and ten people making between $24,000 to $33,000 a month. There was also the story of Aloysio Lopes Pontes, a 77-year-old retired judge whose monthly paycheck through a series of legal maneuvers amounted to more than $162,000. It would take a worker earning minimum wage 150 years to be paid this kind of money. Pontes didn't get all the money (he still took home $24,000) only because the government has imposed limits on what can be paid.

In October, after several attacks on bureaucracy and apparently tired of waiting for a constitutional reform that would eliminate various bureaucratic procedures, President Fernando Cardoso decided to take the problem in his own hands, issuing an executive order, the MP (Medida Provisória -- Provisional Measure) 1524. The resolution eliminates a total of 72,930 federal jobs, including 27,650 that are already vacant. Firings, closing of departments, and cuts of posts should add to 251,500 positions eliminated in federal facilities and state enterprises, or 18.8% of the whole federal work force of 1,340,000 workers. The bureaucracy shrinking act starts with a redefinition of public service categories that are being reduced from 1,772 to 107. Among other measures being implemented, there is the closing or transfer to the states of 20 foundations, autarchies, and public institutions.

There will be no saving at first, however, since no workers are being fired. The cuts should happen by attrition, including retirement and resignation in the coming years. It's believed that it will take at least five years until all the posts vacate. But that won't come cheap. Public servants are being encouraged to retire with up to an additional 20% in their pensions. Most of the extinct functions will be filled by outside private contractors. Right now the federal government will go on with its 90 waiters, 57 butchers, six locksmiths, three governesses and two tailors, among others.

All the presidential hoopla seems aimed at placating public opinion that has been accusing the administration of immobility in a key electoral promise to contain inflation. According to newspaperman Alexandre Pinheiro, the new measures will represent $380 million in economy for the government in 1997, or less than 1% of the budget money used for personnel.

The surprising reform pleased almost no one, especially those who are being directly hit. Departments in the line of fire are scrambling to try to save their jobs. Among the 20 or so that are scheduled for cuts, several are privatizing or transferring to the states, including Conab (Companhia Nacional do Abastecimento -- National Supplying Company), DNOCS (Departamento Nacional de Obras Contra a Seca -- National Department of Work Against the Draught), and Funai (Fundação Nacional do Índio -- National Foundation for the Indian).

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