Resumo do Brasil de hoje...
Rafael Rosset
(recebido em 4/12/2016)
'Suponha comigo que você tem 35 anos, R$ 500.000,00 no banco e um Q.I. acima da média. O que fazer?
Você pode abrir uma empresa. É o que jovens com esse perfil e boas ideias costumam fazer em países mais civilizados, por exemplo.
Na verdade, esse é o objetivo de vida mais cobiçado em lugares como EUA, Inglaterra e Austrália: abrir uma empresa, ganhar muito dinheiro e, no processo de ficar podre de rico, empregar dezenas ou centenas de pessoas e gerar bens e serviços que vão elevar a qualidade de vida de todos.
Mas vamos supor que você viva no Brasil. A média de lucro (o retorno sobre o investimento do capitalista) vai de 3% a 5% (varejo), 6% (farmácias e drogarias), 10% (postos de gasolina) 11% a 13% (alimentação e serviços), só para citar alguns exemplos.
Isso quando o empresário não opera no vermelho, pagando do próprio bolso pra manter o negócio e, com ele, os empregos de seus funcionários.
Claro que não é só.
Você vai gastar em média 2.600 horas por ano não fazendo o que você se propôs a fazer (produzindo bens ou prestando serviços), mas apenas para recolher os impostos, que vão incidir sobre o seu investimento antes que você tenha qualquer lucro.
Em média, 40% do seu investimento vai para o governo; 24% vai para os trabalhadores; e, descontada a parte do banco (capital de giro, desconto de recebíveis etc.), a você será permitido ficar com apenas 7% do que gerou.
Você será tratado como criminoso pela sociedade, será culpado por tudo o que der errado no país, e será constantemente fiscalizado e esporadicamente autuado por conta do descumprimento de alguma obrigação acessória que nem seus advogados tributário e trabalhista sabiam que existia, mas que lhe renderá uma multa de 150%, além de juros de 1% ao mês e correção monetária.
E, claro, ocasionalmente seus funcionários o processarão, ainda que você tenha pagado todos os direitos e obrigações, e sabe-se lá o que vai decidir o juiz do trabalho, que está lá na presunção de que você é um contraventor e o seu funcionário é um anjo.
Depois de 3 anos, há 80% de chance de você estar falido, e com sua casa, carro e o que quer que tenha sobrado de seu capital inicial ameaçado por execuções fiscais e trabalhistas.
Não parece um prospecto muito bom.
Mas, felizmente, você vive no Brasil, e tem opções.
Você pode emprestar aqueles seus R$ 500.000,00 ao governo, por exemplo. Uma aplicação no Tesouro Direto indexada ao IPCA rendeu mais de 20% em 12 meses, e com liquidez diária. Descontados os impostos, ainda sobra uns 16% limpos.
Bem melhor do que os 3% a 11% que você obtém empreendendo, e com risco praticamente zero: ao contrário do que se dá com o empreendedor, o governo irá lhe tratar como rei, porque o governo é incapaz de gastar menos do que arrecada, e sempre vai precisar de gente como você para financiar o déficit endêmico.
Ao final de 3 anos, você terá somado cerca de R$ 364.000,00 ao seu capital de R$ 500.000,00 (ajudado pela mágica dos juros capitalizados).
Bem melhor, não?
Ou então você pode empregar esse seu cérebro privilegiado e estudar para um concurso público. Salários de R$ 30.000,00, que a iniciativa privada só paga a altos executivos que tenham resultados a apresentar e que estejam acostumados a viver sob intensa pressão, não são incomuns no funcionalismo, com o bônus de que você nunca será demitido, ainda que faça apenas o mínimo exigido, e, dependendo da carreira que escolher, será inclusive obrigatoriamente promovido.
É essa a flora exótica na qual vivemos: tudo a todo o momento grita para que você não crie, não empreenda, não empregue. Se acumulou algum capital, seja rentista. Se tem uma boa educação, seja funcionário público.
Vai dar certo sim, amigos.
One day’s delivery brings a directive stipulating that the sidewalks must be widened to permit two wheelchairs to cross paths without bumping. Another says the school cafeteria must be made accessible by elevator. Trees must be trimmed of branches six feet up their trunks, the orders go, and only government-certified technicians can change a light bulb on city property.
This part of a page from a directive details how to plant trees. On the left, it shows how wide the sidewalk must be from the planted tree, and on right, it shows how high up the tree must be trimmed.
(Read: Seven peculiar rules imposed on the French)
France and its southern European neighbors, such as Italy and Greece, are increasingly being buried in such norms, rules and directives. In the past two decades, the number of legal do’s and don’ts has become so great that businessmen and economists warn that it is smothering growth just as the continent tries to dig out of its worst slump in a generation.
Comparisons are difficult, but among other advanced economies, the United States, Britain and the Scandinavian countries, which have more hands-off traditions of government, generally suffer less from such excessive regulation, according to assessments by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD).
The regulations almost always flow from a desire to meet recent and broadly accepted social goals, such as environmental protection, accident prevention or access for the disabled. But as lawmakers pass more legislation and bureaucrats scribble more implementation orders, specialists say, the result looks like a vast straitjacket holding back economic activity at a time when Europe needs it most.
A report prepared for the French government last month estimated that the country is squirming under 400,000 norms and rules, ranging from orders to school cooks on the amount of boiled egg a kindergartner can eat at lunch — half an egg — to precise requirements on how far mailboxes can stick out from the wall. The directives have cost little towns in France, such as Albaret-Sainte-Marie, more than $2.5 billion over the past four years, the report estimated.
Applied to business with equal bureaucratic fastidiousness, such rules and regulations prove even more expensive in the private sector. They cost the 27 European Union countries an average 3.7 percent of their gross domestic product a year, more than $10 billion in the case of France, and hold back an incalculable amount of new investment, according to the OECD.
“The country is in danger of paralysis,” warned Alain Lambert, head of the French government’s Consultative Commission on Evaluation of Norms.
Therond said the problem has grown acute because France increasingly has a mind-set in which all risks must be eliminated, what is called “the principle of precaution.” “But you just can’t do that,” he objected. Lambert agreed. “We must temper the principle of precaution to restore to French people their right to risk,” he said on delivering his report.
Christophe Brunel, who runs the Hotel du Rocher Blanc across the road from City Hall here, said new regulations for wheelchair access, sanitation and fire prevention that come into effect in 2015 would cost him about $1.5 million to carry out, more than the century-old hotel is worth. The rules, he said, would require him to enlarge corridors and stairways, put in elevators, change doors, update rooms and remodel the kitchen, destroying the charm — and the budget.
“Eighty percent of small independent hotels in France cannot meet these requirements,” he said, suggesting that airport-style chain hotels will be the only lodgings left if such norms are applied.
Reacting to expressions of concern, President Francois Hollande promised last week that his government would carry out a “simplification shock” to reduce the overload of rules and regulations. His prime minister, Jean-Marc Ayrault, called in ministers, formed a committee and pledged a purge. But most French people only smiled, recalling that similar promises have come from all of Hollande’s predecessors since Charles de Gaulle.
A big part of the problem is public demand. After revelations last month that some meat labeled beef in prepared dishes was actually horsemeat, for instance, Hollande’s government was called on the carpet for inadequate regulation of the wholesale meat market. The consumer protection minister, Benoit Hamon, responded with promises of more regulations and tighter inspections.
Another source of overregulation is the “mille-feuille” of government, the layers that start with municipalities, then cantons, and on to inter-communal bodies, departments, regions, parliamentary representation and ministries. Each level plays a role in imposing norms, sometimes contradictory. But with various government bodies providing 23 percent of the jobs in France, talk of reducing the overlap is largely ignored.
The OECD has recommended that just abolishing departments would produce substantial savings. But in addition to boosting unemployment, such a move would rob the central government of its major channel for exercising authority throughout the country since Napoleon’s time, anathema in a highly centralized system.
“We have a territory that is layered like lasagna,” said Maurice Leroy, a rightist legislator who has joined the call for abolishing departments, “which is not an Italian specialty but a French specialty.”
Bureaucratic layers
Towns and villages such as Albaret-Sainte-Marie were encouraged in recent legislation to form inter-communal committees to pool resources on such matters as water purification or recreational facilities. Despite the logic, all the new law did was add another bureaucratic layer, according to Herve Boulhol, who heads the OECD’s French desk.
Therond said the most outrageous directive to hit his desk recently was a March 28 explanation from the departmental prefecture, 20 pages replete with color-coordinated graphics, of how the area’s inter-communal towns and villages are to organize local elections scheduled for next year. The prescriptions are so detailed and arcane, he protested, that he would have to be a constitutional lawyer to understand what the prefecture was driving at.
“Look at this,” he said, fingering the thick sheaf of papers. “I defy you to understand what they mean. Nobody could possibly understand it.”
The directive joined a pile of papers filed away without action by the City Hall secretary, Alain Chastang.
Perhaps more seriously, recently revised rules for building permits have imposed so many additional requirements that construction has been slowed to a trickle since the beginning of the year just as authorities are trying desperately to find jobs for the unemployed, Therond said.
The town’s activities center, for instance, is in need of renovation. But Therond is unable to fix it up because it is on a slope and wheelchair access — with the grade level minutely regulated — would be impossible without a ramp stretching out into neighboring property.
The second-floor cafeteria for Albaret-Sainte-Marie’s 70 students will have to be moved to the ground floor, he said, because the cost of an elevator would be prohibitive for a community of 600 residents with an operating budget of just over $500,000.
Another regulation that brings a rueful smile to Therond’s face has to do with water.
The community, high in the Massif Central hills, is blessed with natural spring water. But inspectors found recently that the town’s main spring had absorbed too much salt from anti-snow treatment on a nearby highway.
No problem, Therond said, we’ll just dig another spring. But wait, the bureaucrats said, experts have to test the new spring for a year before it can be used.
Result: The salty spring water still flows into residents’ homes, and Therond has taken to drinking bottled mineral water to prevent hypertension.
