Lula’s “Last Dance” at the Helm of Brazil

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s reelection victory over Flávio Bolsonaro marks a setback for the rise of the conservative right in Latin America. Against a backdrop of efforts to defend national sovereignty, pressure from Washington and political polarization, Brazil’s election exposes the divisions in a continent torn between two visions of its future.

At 80, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is returning for a fourth presidential term at the helm of Latin America’s largest economy. The towering figure of Brazilian politics ultimately prevailed—by a narrow margin, it must be stressed—over his far-right rival, Flávio Bolsonaro, son of former president Jair Bolsonaro, who was convicted of attempting a coup against Lula in 2022. Lula had promised his supporters a “last dance,” one final four-year term to conclude his political career at the pinnacle of power. He rose to the challenge.

With 51.79% of valid votes cast in the runoff, against his opponent’s 48.21%, Lula secured a narrow but politically significant victory. The election checks the momentum of the conservative and nationalist right across the continent, at a time when several Latin American governments have strengthened their ties with Washington at Donald Trump’s urging. The Brazilian president’s victory does not, however, mean that Latin America has shifted to the left. Rather, it is a reminder that the region remains marked by divergent political paths, shifting balances of power and deeply polarized societies.

Since the Covid-19 pandemic, successive changes of government across the region have brought sometimes opposing political agendas to the fore: from Javier Milei’s free-market right in Argentina to Daniel Noboa’s conservative policies in Ecuador and Nayib Bukele’s experiment in hardline security in El Salvador… followed more recently by Chile, Bolivia, Peru, Paraguay, the Dominican Republic, Colombia, Costa Rica and Honduras. These developments reveal a Latin America where voters swing between promises of social protection, demands for security, aspirations for change and rejection of traditional elites.

A victory against the rightward shift

Latin America’s right-wing movements do not form a homogeneous bloc. Nevertheless, some share ideological common ground with the Trump administration: support for hardline security policies, restrictions on immigration, opposition to certain progressive policies and a desire to strengthen ties with the United States. In several cases, Washington has openly backed leaders or political forces aligned with its agenda.

Whether driven by ideological convictions or diplomatic and economic calculations, these closer ties reflect a desire to align with the US strategy for the Western Hemisphere. Donald Trump’s rhetoric asserting a dominant role for the United States in its own neighborhood thus finds an echo among some of the region’s leaders.

Security cooperation is one of the main areas where these interests converge. These Latin American countries readily rally behind the Republican's bombastic announcements, such as his promise of a military and strategic initiative called the Shield of the Americas. The fight against drug traffickers, which Washington presents as a strategic priority, has become a central talking point in several Latin American capitals. But this approach also raises questions: how far can one go in the name of security? What safeguards are in place when operations target suspected traffickers without their involvement having been publicly established? Strikes on boats allegedly linked to drug trafficking illustrate the risks of a policy in which shows of force can take precedence over requirements for evidence and judicial oversight.

Migration is another point of convergence, but also of controversy. In El Salvador, CECOT, the vast prison complex built as part of Nayib Bukele's crackdown on gangs, has become a symbol of this security policy. Migrants deported from the United States have also been detained there under agreements reached with the Trump administration. Supporters of these policies see them as a firm response to insecurity and irregular migration. Critics argue that these practices raise serious concerns about fundamental rights and due process.

Against this backdrop, the Latin American left appears fragmented, at times contradictory, and often weakened by its own crises. Cuba is a relic of the Cold War, stifled by a nepotistic elite of conceited military officers, by sanctions, and by the US embargo. Nicaragua, too, is an archaic ruin of past revolutionary ideals, hijacked by the Ortega-Murillo couple. Venezuela is Chavista in name only, and is little more than a new kind of protectorate under Washington's thumb, for as long as its oil serves US interests.

Claudia Sheinbaum's Mexico presents a different picture: a government rooted in the left, forced to accommodate the economic and geographic power of its northern neighbor. Proximity to the United States, trade ties, and migration issues require Mexico City to strike a delicate balance between political assertiveness and diplomatic pragmatism.

One key word: sovereignty

Amid this shifting political landscape, Lula has made national sovereignty one of the pillars of his international rhetoric. Faced with leaders who emulate Donald Trump and openly embrace power politics, the Brazilian president champions a different vision of the continent's place in the world.

“We are nobody's backyard”: the phrase sums up this ambition. It evokes a long history of intervention and pressure from Washington in Latin America, a region the United States has often regarded as part of its sphere of influence. Other powers—European in the past, Soviet during the Cold War, and Chinese today—have also sought to challenge that influence, each pursuing its own interests.

This sovereignty does not necessarily mean rejecting all cooperation with Washington. Rather, in Lula's view, it means that Brazil should be able to set its own diplomatic, trade, and strategic priorities without bowing to the dictates of a foreign power.

Relations between Lula and Donald Trump illustrated this tension. Tariffs, diplomatic pressure and US statements in support of the Bolsonaro camp put the issue of foreign interference at the heart of the Brazilian campaign. The incumbent president made defending democratic institutions and national autonomy a central plank of his campaign against his opponent, who openly embraces the “Trumpist” right. Indeed, shortly after his defeat, Flávio Bolsonaro promptly fled aboard his private jet to Miami in the United States, where his brother has lived for several years. In this context, President Trump raised the possibility of granting Flávio political asylum.

Lula's victory, however, cannot be reduced to a clash between two ideological camps, nor should it be read as a blanket endorsement of his record. It also stems from domestic factors: concerns about purchasing power, security and inequality, voter mobilization, and the still-vivid memory of the Bolsonaro years. Above all, the result demonstrates a political coalition's ability to rally support once again in a deeply divided country.

Lula thus represents not so much a definitive victory for the left as a possibility: that of preserving national room for maneuver in an international environment shaped by rivalry between major powers, particularly China and the United States.

A Lebanese vote?

Brazil is often associated with a striking figure: the roughly six million people of Lebanese origin said to live there. This figure, frequently cited in public discourse, should be treated with caution: official Brazilian statistics do not provide a precise count of this entire population based solely on Lebanese ancestry. More importantly, it encompasses very different realities.

There is a distinction between Brazilians of Lebanese descent, whose family roots may lie several generations in the past, and those who maintain a direct connection with Lebanon, particularly through more recent immigration. Between these two poles lie many different experiences. This population's integration into Brazilian society is longstanding and deep, including in the country's economic, cultural and political life.

There is therefore no unified, organized “Lebanese vote” in Brazil. Brazilian citizens of Lebanese origin do not form a separate electoral bloc: their preferences reflect the country's social, generational and political diversity. Like the rest of the population, they may find themselves on opposing sides, whether supporting Lula, embracing Bolsonarism or choosing other political forces.

An episode from the 2022 campaign illustrates this. In Foz do Iguaçu, a city on the borders with Paraguay and Argentina that is home to a sizable community of Arab origin, some members of that community had organized a dinner with Lula. But as soon as the invitation was made public on social media, Bolsonaro supporters from the same community protested. The dinner was ultimately canceled.

This controversy was already exposing the fault lines running through Brazilian society. Family background, ties to Lebanon or membership in a community do not automatically determine voting choices. Identities intersect, evolve and sometimes recede into the background as everyday concerns, political convictions or economic interests take precedence.

The community of Arab descent is therefore not immune to the polarization that has swept through Brazil in recent years. In its own way, it reflects a society where historical and cultural ties no longer reliably predict political choices, and where electoral battles are also fought within families, on social media, and within communities themselves. In Lebanon, however, the roughly 8,000 registered voters overwhelmingly backed Lula, giving him more than 60% of the vote.

In the wake of Lula’s victory, this reality underscores an essential point: Brazil cannot be reduced to either its ideological divides or its immigrant heritage. It remains a diverse country whose divisions pose both a challenge to democracy and a central issue for its political future.