
I met Professor Jorge Miglioli in 2000, the year I started my undergraduate studies in Economics at UNESP, Araraquara 鈥 Brazil, fully convinced it was the right path if you wanted to change the world. I did briefly consider Sociology too, but my mum (like any another mum who dreams of their children doing better than they did) put her foot down: I didn鈥檛 work this hard to give you a good education just so you could become a schoolteacher! That settled it.
Just a little over a month into the course, I found myself in the middle of one of the longest national university strikes in Brazil. For context: Brazilian universities are publicly funded by both national and state governments, and higher education is tuition-free. That strike, so early in my academic journey, made me question whether I had chosen the right course. Most of my peers simply returned to their hometowns instead of staying and engaging with what was happening. It wouldn鈥檛 be fair to say they were against the strike; they just didn鈥檛 care. Many of them came from the Brazilian middle class or up, which reflects the schizophrenia of our tuition-free higher education system. They were on a clear path to join the elite, working in banks, big corporations, and so on, and the strike had simply disrupted that trajectory. They just wanted to get back to their normal lives. Things were even worse in my department, the Department of Economics, where only two, maybe three professors supported the strike. The majority made it clear they were against it and disappeared for the entire duration, which lasted nearly four months
On the bright side, that moment introduced me to fellow Economics students who stayed, supported the strike, and opened the door to an economics that actually mattered 鈥 they would also become dear friends. It was through them that I first encountered Karl Marx. I also met Renata Belzunces, the student leading the strike in my campus, admired by many, including Professor Jorge Miglioli, and who went to become one of the most inspiring role models I鈥檝e ever had.[1] And it was in this moment that I met Professor Jorge Miglioli too.
Miglioli, who eventually became 鈥淢iglis鈥 to me, a nickname he never fully liked but accepted nonetheless (I鈥檓 not sure I ever gave him much choice!), was different. There were no 鈥榖uts鈥 with Miglioli when it came to the strike. I remember him saying something like How else do you expect capitalists and the government to hear us? But it wasn鈥檛 just what he said, it was how he said it. There was no attempt to convince, no rhetorical flourish. It was more like: why are we even debating this? His tone carried a kind of quiet certainty, and beneath it, a deep frustration and disillusionment with the fact that this even needed to be explained.
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