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𝖮𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈𝗌. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌. 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝖽𝖾 𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗂́𝖼𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾́𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈, 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗈́𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝟤𝟪 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖾, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈, 𝟧𝟧 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌. 𝖤 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝖺. 𝖬𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈. 𝖣𝖾 𝗏𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎́𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗎𝗆 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂́𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌.

𝖭𝖺 𝗎́𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺, 𝖿𝗎𝗂 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗂 𝗏𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗌. 𝖫𝗈𝗀𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺, 𝖺𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆-𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗎𝗅𝖺̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗓𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌. 𝖵𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋. 𝖠𝗅𝗂 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗆 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗈. 𝖫𝖺́ 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈, 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈. 𝖭𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗌. “𝖤𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝖾𝖼̧𝖺”, 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈.

𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗈 𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖾́. 𝖭𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗈-𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝖩𝗈𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗎𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗂𝗓 𝗏𝗂𝗎́𝗏𝗈, 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 “𝖤𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺”, 𝖽𝖾 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗂́𝗅𝗂𝗈 𝖥𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺. 𝖭𝗎𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝗈, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗉𝖺 𝗆𝖾́𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖺̀ 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺: “𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺̃𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖺 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗆. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝖼̧𝗈 (...). 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝖼̧𝗈 𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗈́ 𝖿𝖺𝗓 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗎. (...) 𝖮𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖾̂𝗌 (𝗆𝖾́𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌) 𝗌𝖺𝗂́𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈. 𝖤 𝖾𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗂 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗈́𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗂-𝖺 𝖺𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈”.

𝖳𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗁𝖾𝗂 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗎𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝖺𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺, 𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗋 𝖾́ 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖢𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖺́ 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́ 𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖾𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝖺́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌.

𝖠 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈́𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖣𝗂𝖺 𝖬𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖺 𝖯𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎, 𝗏𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗇𝗎́𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌: 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝗎́𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗌. 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗎́𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈, 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗈 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺, 𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌.

* Professora catedrática na Universidade do Minho

IN "JORNAL DE NOTÍCIAS" - 12/07/24 .