A genius in the tropics: when Einstein visited Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil

It is a journey that deserved, in fact, more zeal. In the first half of 1925, Albert Einstein (1879-1955), already awarded the Nobel Prize for his studies on quantum physics and celebrated for his theory of relativity, went on a three-month trip to South America. From March 5th to May 11th , visited Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil to publicize his scientific work and meet Jewish communities. His only foray across the continent was recorded in a diary, a habit acquired on previous tours through the United States, the Far East, Palestine and Spain. He wrote everything down in a notebook with 72 lined pages, in succinct entries, punctuated by comments about the places he visited, the events he attended and the people they introduced him to.

All this material was collected in the book Albert Einstein’s Travel Diaries (Editora Record), scheduled to arrive in bookstores in the second week of May. Historian Ze’ev Rosenkranz, editor at the Einstein Papers Project, an entity that brings together the scientist’s files, was responsible for organizing the paperwork. In order to obtain a more comprehensive portrait of the adventures in the south, Rosenkranz compared the notes with newspaper articles, personal documents, speeches and diplomatic reports. In the edition, the archivist also included family letters and postcards. It’s a treasure.

There is a lot of speculation surrounding Einstein’s motivation for the transoceanic crossing. Some historians make a clear point: a shortcut to the dissemination of the theories that made him famous and to scientific exchange. There may have been, however, another reason, small and human, all too human, for fleeing the refuge in Berlin: to get away from an extramarital relationship with his secretary at the time, Betty Neumann, many years younger than him, a shy for excellence. “The trip may have provided a convenient way to end the relationship and allow him and his wife, Elsa, to spend some time apart after what must have been a challenging period for both of them,” notes Rosenkranz.

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Brazil represented a fundamental chapter in Einstein’s career, a distant and sentimental point. It was in Sobral, in the interior of Ceará, in 1919, following a solar eclipse, that a team of British astronomers confirmed the mother of all ideas, that of general relativity — another research group had been moved to Príncipe Island. , in Africa. “The question that my mind formulated was answered by the radiant sky of Brazil”, he said when informed of the good results of the experiments.

It was in this tone of jubilation, therefore, that Einstein arrived in Rio de Janeiro. Right away, he was amazed by nature, like so many Europeans. In his diary, he noted on May 4th, in careful handwriting: “Arrival in Rio at sunset, with splendid weather. In the foreground, fantastically shaped granite islands. Humidity produces a mysterious effect.” It was taken to the National Museum, in front of the Bendegó meteorite, found in 1784 in the backlands of Bahia. Celebrated as if he were a head of state, he was a genius parading uneasily across the tropics.

Although mesmerized by the natural scenery of the city framed by the Sugarloaf Mountain (Christ the Redeemer did not yet exist) and by the “hodgepodge of people in the streets”, which he classified as “delicious”, Einstein soon tried to slip into somewhat absurd, elitist and racists. He was the creator of a universe, improbable and imponderable, dealing with the small world down here, with all its ills and inaccuracies. “Here I am a kind of white elephant to them, and they are monkeys to me,” he scribbled. If Argentines are “unspeakably stupid”, he attributed Brazilians’ supposed indolence to the climate. “They all give me the impression of having been softened by the tropics”, he concluded, as if sticking out his tongue.

It is not a case of absolving him of his stupidities, nor even of justifying them because it was that bad at the time. They are frightening, read today, as they reveal the flesh-and-blood subject behind the unparalleled totem. But there is a small consideration: the notes were not created for public display. They served personal interests, of those who describe what they see, and as a bridge for his wife and stepdaughter, Margot, in Germany. “We are certain that he did not dedicate the diary to posterity or for publication,” says Rosenkranz. The fascinating thing about this careful compilation is being able to enter the mind of those who helped us think about where we came from and, perhaps, where we are going.

Published in VEJA on April 26, 2024, issue no. 2890