Some of Lula’s strongholds flipped for Flávio Bolsonaro. On Sunday, we’ll see where Brazil falls

Raimundo Bonfim dragged a portable speaker tied to a trolley through the narrow streets of Heliopolis, a sprawling favela in São Paulo. Past barber shops and electronics stores, making eye contact with men lighting cigarettes and women waving to him with yellow dish gloves on. He spoke to them directly, under a canopy of knotted power lines, microphone in hand.

“Brasil deserves to move forward, not backwards,” he called out. “A vote for Lula is a vote for workers, for education, for life.”

Mr. Bonfim, 62, knows the crevices of Heliopolis like the palm of his hand. He migrated to São Paulo from the small northeastern state of Piauí when he was 18, working as a bricklayer, then a metalworker, then in an industrial laundry, a bakery and a restaurant. He moved to the favela when he was 21. “Back then, the community was nothing but makeshift shacks and mud. Just wood and mud,” he said. “The people organized themselves and worked with the government to build everything. Everything.”

And he joined that struggle, embarking on a life of community activism that has reached national levels. Now, as director of social participation under the government of Luiz Inácio (Lula) da Silva, he is involved in the heated presidential campaign on both the macro and the most micro of levels − like the walk he led of a couple of hundred supporters last Saturday morning in Heliopolis.

“No matter how important social media is, and how essential the large mobilizations are, what actually changes votes on the ground is this kind of work,” he said.

It was shaping up to be an intense week − a sprint to the electoral finish on Sunday in a runoff between President Lula, 80, one of the most iconic leaders of the Latin American left, and Senator Flávio Bolsonaro, 45, the son of former president Jair Bolsonaro, who is serving a 27-year prison sentence for leading a coup attempt to stay in power after losing the 2022 election.

Senator Bolsonaro is the de facto leader of a growing far-right movement in Brazil that has found ongoing support from the powerful agro sector, evangelicals and a cross-section of people who profess to want a change. He did better than most polls predicted in the first round of voting earlier this month, taking 47 per cent of the vote to Mr. da Silva’s 45.2 per cent. Recent polls show them in a margin-of-error tie as they head into the final round, following massive rallies for Mr. da Silva.

Mr. da Silva − who generally goes by Lula, a childhood nickname he later added to his legal name − grew up in the impoverished northeast of the country. A fiery union leader who would stand on stools in factories speaking about the meagre rations his fellow workers had to eat, he has had a profound impact on Brazil.

His signature Bolsa Familia, a cash transfer program to low-income households that is conditional on school attendance for children and vaccinations, has helped reduce poverty in the country of 213-million. His administrations raised the minimum wage, built universities, provided more scholarships and housing and drove down deforestation in the Amazon.

But the biggest of those achievements came during his first two terms, between 2003 and 2010, and while the economy has grown and unemployment has fallen during this term, many Brazilians still point to chronic financial struggles as a source of discontent. That and persistent corruption scandals, like a massive banking fraud case that has dominated much of the election cycle.

São Paulo is a stronghold of progressive organizing and of the party that Mr. da Silva helped found, the Partido dos Trabalhadores (PT) or Workers’ Party.

But the margins are shrinking, making marches like Mr. Bonfim’s essential to holding the PT’s ground against the advance of the far right, even in the favela.

“They’ve co-opted some leaders, people who had ideological leanings but no political education,” Mr. Bonfim said.

Some 700 municipalities, especially very small ones, swung from Mr. da Silva to Mr. Bolsonaro in the first round of voting, and Mr. Bolsonaro picked up more votes than his movement ever has in the northeast of the country, although Mr. da Silva still won it by a landslide.

“They also play on people’s fatigue, because Lula has already been president three times and has now come back again,” Mr. Bonfim said. “Especially among younger people and people between 30 and 45 years old, they tap into this feeling that people want change.”

This election echoes beyond the country’s borders. Brazil is the largest economy in Latin America, 10th in the world, and harbours deep ties to China as a fellow member of the BRICS alliance.

After China, its largest trading partner is the United States, which has imposed 25-per-cent tariffs on a range of Brazilian goods under President Donald Trump.

It also comes at a time of increasing U.S. influence in Latin America.

Since Mr. Trump took office in January, 2025, voters in seven presidential elections in the region have picked a right-wing candidate.

“From a geopolitical perspective, Brazil is the crown jewel of the project pursued by Secretary of State Marco Rubio and President Donald Trump,” said Beto Vasques, a political scientist and director of institutional relations at Brazil’s Democracy in Check Institute.

“For Trump and Rubio, there are three major challenges in the Americas: Canada, Mexico and Brazil,” he said.

“Rubio is particularly interested in Brazil and Mexico, while Trump is especially interested in Canada.” But ultimately, he said, the goal is to install governments aligned with their interests in all three countries.

Mr. da Silva’s campaign has also accused Meta, Instagram’s owner, of interfering in the election by limiting how the PT campaign can post material. Watchdog groups say there are “indications” that it may have favoured the Bolsonaro side, although experts say that would be very difficult to prove because the data is private. Meta denies the accusations and says “technical difficulties” have affected different political parties.

Brazil’s conservative wave started in 2018, with the election of the far-right Jair Bolsonaro, a former military man with dictatorial aspirations.

The movement was temporarily halted in 2022, in part because of the elder Bolsonaro’s disastrous handling of the pandemic, and again after a Supreme Court judge annulled criminal convictions against Mr. da Silva, who had been imprisoned in a corruption scandal, paving the way for him to run again.

But the right-wing upswell never went away. And it has gotten stronger. Congressional, Senate and state elections this month also gave Mr. Bolsonaro’s Liberal Party unprecedented power.

“There is a wave,” said Helinho Bernardino, the mayor of Saltinho, a small town in a farming belt about three hours from São Paulo. “Support for Bolsonaro is growing in this region.”

Mr. Vasques says the shift in Brazil happened alongside a global one that began with collective democratic movements such as Occupy Wall Street, or the Indignados in Spain, but eventually took on more individualistic tones − groups fighting for their own interests. “There is less concern about democracy, and people become more willing to accept authoritarian measures as long as those measures benefit them personally.”

The far right has been more adept at channelling the rage in the digital sphere. The formula is simple: It uses fear and hatred as political tools and disinformation as a method.

In Brazil, “this is not the traditional right,” stressed Thais Pavez, a political scientist and director of Estratégia Política Consultoria. “We’re talking about a revolutionary right that wants to transform society profoundly.”

The far right is in part responding to societal demands for a tougher stand on organized crime, for example, but also has ideological roots in the growing evangelical movement that is chipping away at the religious supremacy of Catholicism in Brazil.

Flávio Bolsonaro, who himself faces allegations of corruption that he denies, represents both continuity and renewal for the Bolsonaro brand, said Ms. Pavez. He has made inroads with women voters, while also advocating for tough measures such as lowering the age of criminal responsibility to 16, or 14 for violent crimes, chemical castration for rapists and pedophiles and creating 500,000 more prison spaces.

“This election isn’t simply about comparing policies, economic indicators, government plans and objective data,” argued Ms. Pavez, which is the method favoured by Mr. da Silva’s campaign.

“The far right operates on a different level. Its message is: There is a war between good and evil − I am part of a spiritual crusade.”

The forces were clear at a massive Bolsonaro rally last Sunday along Paulista Avenue, the most celebrated street in São Paulo, known for its modernist and brutalist architecture. The chants called for Mr. da Silva to be jailed. The signs branded the Workers’ Party as corrupt. Israel and U.S. flags flapped in a crowd that was overwhelmingly decked out in national soccer team jerseys, a symbol that has been appropriated by the Bolsonaro movement. It was a family affair − parents hoisted their children on their shoulders.

Many supporters had shirts with a succinct slogan: God, Nation and Liberty. People clapped and bowed in appreciation as they passed by military officers. A balloon shaped like a comet flew up in the air, while at one end, Catholic devotees sang hymns outside a church.

“Our biggest difficulty here is the growth of organized crime,” said Alcides Lopes, 54, who attended the rally with his wife and young son. Mr. Lopes was once part of that world, as a drug trafficker who served five years in prison before finding God and becoming an evangelical. He used to vote for Mr. da Silva and the PT, he said, because he felt they represented him. Now, wearing a blue ballcap with “JESUS” embossed in white letters, the public servant has other priorities.

“We support Flávio today because we have principles, Christian principles.”

About 200 kilometres away, past open farmland and sugar cane plantations, the town of Saltinho is a postcard of rural living. The main drag has a smattering of shops for animal feed, a pharmacy, clothing stores and municipal buildings. On a recent afternoon, a car blasting Sertaneja music, a Brazilian country music that has exploded in popularity in recent years, rolled by. It is one sign of the growing weight of the agro sector in popular culture.

Saltinho, population about 8,000, registered the largest vote for Mr. Bolsonaro in the first round in the state of São Paulo − nearly 79 per cent. Sitting in his office under a signed jersey of Brazilian soccer legend Neymar, also a Bolsonaro supporter, the mayor, Helinho Bernardino, credited that support to economics and values. Mr. Bolsonaro won the farming sector over with policies that helped them finance machinery, said Mr. Berardino, 34, who is a member of the Liberal Party. Beyond that, there are traditional conservative issues at play.

“I don’t think everyone should have a gun strapped to their waist, but I do think we should have the freedom to own firearms, subject to certain criteria,” he said. “Then there’s the question of family. Because this is the interior, there’s more of a traditional-family mentality − the kind you see in margarine commercials.”

He added: “Simply creating a sense of security that encourages investment and hiring could give the country a boost.”

In nearby Americana, a city that was settled by Confederate expatriates fleeing the American Civil War, signs promoting Mr. Bolsonaro line the main promenade under towering palm trees. Mr. Bolsonaro won handily here, too, and at a coffee shop, a group of three friends were bracing for the eventuality that he will win in the runoff.

“The current situation is very worrying. We believe that if Bolsonaro actually manages to win, we’ll be living in a very difficult society,” said Regiane Campos, 51, a lawyer. “Very difficult,” echoed Juliana Zaqueu, 50, a vet and housewife. They feared a loss of basic rights, from freedom of expression to labour rights.

“I’m a history teacher,” said Mirielle Carrara, 50. “I’m terrified of what will happen to textbooks if this guy wins, because things won’t stay the same.”

Back in Heliopolis, it’s also about liberty. The freedom to build a different kind of life.

“I feel a little uncomfortable because people are very self-centred,” said Yazmin Cezino, 17, in the community library that gathered Lula supporters for the neighbourhood walk. “People think individually, and there’s no way to make things work that way. They end up forgetting that we’re part of a collective.”

Ms. Cezino is an example of the policies of Mr. da Silva at work. She was born in an Indigenous community in Pernambuco, a state in the northeast. With her mother and sister, she migrated to São Paulo, and her family has received assistance from Bolsa Familia. They got their apartment through Minha Casa, Minha Vida, a housing program Mr. da Silva’s government initiated in 2009.

“Thanks to Lula, I’m now taking a technical course at a public school, so I’ll graduate with a qualification. There are several things, do you understand? But it’s not just about me needing help. Other people need it, too.”

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