The Duke of Caxias, on horseback, wields his sword. The statue of the patron of the Army is immense, but the granite block that houses it is even larger, disproportionate. The whole statue is more than 40 meters high, but, at eye level, it is the pedestal that draws the attention of those in Praça Princesa Isabel.

The asymmetry only increases with the unfinished setback and lack of a garden surrounding the monument. São Paulo takes poor care of its public spaces, but this one seems out of place from conception.

Folha readers, in the last week, saw Caxias up close. A series of images of the square was taken from a drone. The place was in the news for housing the new cracolândia, after the previous stronghold, a few blocks away, was demobilized in March by the police or drug trafficking. Two versions coexist in the press. On Wednesday (11), however, police and public agents surrounded the area. The shift tactic is to disperse users and avoid crowds at all costs, making drug consumption and traffickers' work possible. The problem is in the at any cost, something that the newspaper until Saturday (14) discussed little, privileging the factual report of the chaos.

Hygiene in the square was successful. The images from above showed the space full of tents and dirt, then just dirt and clean on Thursday (12). The comparison spent two days in a row in a prominent position on the newspaper's website and ended up on the front page of the print.

However, the big picture of the coverage was on the cover of Cotidiano. In the square, the now earthly frame by photographer Danilo Verpa forgot about Caxias and showed a mass of people sitting on the floor around the granite block. Lots of lost eyes under the orders of municipal guards. What from afar looked like dirt up close translated into people.

All this was supposed to be just a semiotic digression by the ombudsman, but on Friday (13), the newspaper published the editorial "Beyond repression." When analyzing the issue and defending support for dependents, Folha stressed that "retaking the space occupied by cracolândia is a duty."

Hours earlier, civil police officers had shot at users in the middle of Avenida Rio Branco. One person was killed. A clean square is not worth so much. Much less Caxias.

NAMES TO THE OXES

Recent Folha articles discussed the impact of certain developments in environmentally sensitive areas. One of them spoke of an index created to monitor the health of basins in the Amazon, and another discussed the controversy surrounding a mining project in the Serra do Curral, near Belo Horizonte, which would be threatening the water supply in the capital of Minas Gerais.

Five hydroelectric plants are mentioned in the first story and the mining company in the second. No line, however, is written about their owners. Why not remember who owns, for example, Belo Monte, whose basin is one of the most affected according to the survey? Or whose company is the window-pane in the meetings that Folha and UOL promoted with candidates for the government of Minas?

It's good to know who you're dealing with. Revealing names is bringing them into the debate, generating accountability or at least giving readers a chance to make their connections.

Last week had an exemplary case in this sense, with an absolutely straightforward title: "Who is the businessman who leads the gold rush in indigenous lands," text by Repórter Brasil, republished by Folha. For those who haven't read it, his name is Paulo Carlos de Brito Filho, owner of the renowned Guaspari winery in the interior of São Paulo.

Does it matter knowing his name? It does, and he seems to know it, as his companies dropped 95 exploration requests after the article.

José Henrique Mariante
Trained as an engineer and journalist, Mariante has been a reporter, correspondent, editor and editorial secretary at Folha, where he has worked since 1991. He is the ombudsman.

_{Translated by Kiratiana Freelon}