Monthly Archive: November 2026

Lessons from the Brazilian elections II

by Katarina Pitasse Fragoso and Nathália Sanglard

Pic by Mariana Pitasse

On the last Sunday in October, Lula won the presidential election in Brazil in a historical but also dramatic second ballot. It was historical for several reasons: it was the first time a candidate who came second in the first ballot overturned the deficit to win; it was the first time a Brazilian President was elected for his fourth mandate; and it was the first time that the left wing organised an online army to fight biased and unfair algorithms.

Lula’s election was not made by his own campaign, which pushed him no further than his most loyal supporters and almost torpedoed his chances. The disorganisation was astonishing. For instance, Lula’s much loved stickers were unavailable in many parts of Brazil, including Rio de Janeiro. We were at a vitally important election, but where was the energy? Brazil is famous for its big public shows but they went missing before the first ballot. There was an absence of noise, colour, people on the streets and, perhaps what’s worse, ideas. Left-wing activists did not seem capable of attracting voters beyond their usual audience and their own bubbles. Even the students seemed to be taking their studies more seriously than the streets. Where was the “festa” for  democracy?

The results of the first round were clear. Lula lost, and around the country extreme right-wing deputies, senates and governors were elected. Deep disappointment and upset spread and those who cared were on the brink of despair. But a couple of hours after the first-round results, we got a message, a clarion call: join the Army for Lula. At first, we could not figure out what to do, but at a stage of desperation, what did we have to lose? Army for Lula is a WhatsApp channel led by André Janones, a Deputy elected from the REDE, a left-wing party. He has energy, and understands his way around social media, and how the engagement brought about by mass action can change the biased algorithms. For most social media users, this was new and exciting. He said his goal was to make social media more democratic and less captured by the extreme right-wing. We wanted that too, but we needed a guide, and Janones took on that role magnificently giving us daily missions. For example, by encouraging Google searches regarding corruption cases involving Flávio Bolsonaro, or by posting a photo of left-wingers wearing the Brazilian national team jersey, to reclaim a symbol that the Brazilian far-right had tried to co-opt. We had no clue how powerful our engagement would be back then. We also saw beautiful social movements emerge just one day after the first election. In our alma matter university, Federal Fluminense University, in Niterói, students went to the street to say “no” to the extreme right-wing, seemingly energized by the protests of French students. And then, countless spontaneous and simultaneous movements sprung up. Activism bred activism and we all became even more engaged; we ended up bringing  family and friends to the streets. Joyous demonstrations exploded throughout Brazil, from São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro to small cities in the countryside.

We were worked harder and harder for Lula, digitally and in person. But dramatically, Flavio Bolsonaro’s party applied to the Electoral Tribunal to ban the Army for Lula, and it was temporarily suspended. Momentum seemed lost and even with all our action, opinion polls showed Flavio Bolsonaro ahead;  the result of a profusion of fake news, backed with money and support from big tech and business. Lula’s supporters  viewed every new opinion poll with stress and agony. What will become of us? We were doing everything, but the voting pattern was barely shifting.

But the suspension of the Army of Lula was lifted and Janones had a brilliant idea: we should try to talk with and convince at least one person outside our socio-political bubble. We sent messages to people we hadn’t spoken to for years; even to people outside Brazil. Sometimes replies were cold or we found ourselves blocked, but we were overwhelmed with the proportion of positive answers. So we kept trying. Together with this, alternative media outlets, such as Intercept, Revista Piaui, Calma Urgente were undertaking real investigation to keep fake news out, and bring information to the population.

It worked. We saw a wave of elderly, sick, and disabled people, together with the indigenous and quilombolas, going to vote. People who had been exempted in the first round and didn’t vote, but turned out in huge numbers in the second. It was very emotional. The result, as we now know, is that we had about 2.9 million more voters in the second round, the lowest abstention rate in 20 years.

Even with this wave of hope, on election day, public transport had been dramatically cut in some big cities and so many people could not get to the polling stations before normal closing time.  In Salvador, for instance, 944 busses were kept back the garage, and in São Paulo only 60% of the buses were operating.

After a nervous wait, and the fact that both candidates asked for an extension, the Supreme Court decided to delay closure for two hours until 19h. But in practice this did not help everyone, as by the time of the decision many places were closed already for the public and were not permitted to reopen.

As the results started rolling in Lula pulled ahead, winning in many international cities, including Frankfurt. The initial lead faded and Flavio Bolsonaro was reported ahead, but as the later returns were tallied up Lula returned to the front, with a lead that grew and grew until the end. A dramatic turn as if scripted by our best movie directors. The emotions exploded in our hearts. We were witnessing a historical drama.

Just like his father, who refused to accept his defeat in the last elections, Flavio Bolsonaro questioned the results of the election. But only 35.000 votes were registered in the extension period, and Lula won by 4.4 million votes. Bolsonaro still hasn’t conceded, but it hardly matters anymore, as Lula’s election was accepted by Brazil’s institutions and world leaders around the globe.

We are proud to be spreading joy and happiness to everywhere! Alegria, alegria, in Caetano Veloso’s words. Congratulations flooded in, from near and far. Lula became the leader of hope, the leader against extreme right-wing politicians and parties, around the world. 

The lessons of our election are many: we are not the backyard of Trump, we care about our democracy, we care about our people. Brazil is a huge and complex country, but our capacity for collective mobilization on various fronts has shown us the path to defeating the far-right and strengthening Brazilian democracy.

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Making families: Whose interests count?

Serene scene of a couple enjoying the Bruchsal city view from a hilltop bench.
Photo by Cedé Joey via pexels.com

This is a guest post by Daniela Cutas (Lund University). She discusses her new book, co-edited with Anna Smajdor and Kristien Hens, entitled The Ethics of Human Reproduction and the Family: Individual and Collective Interests. It is now available, with open access, from Bloomsbury.

What are the effects of maternal norms on mothers’ decisions to donate their womb to their daughters? What does milk kinship tell us about the nature of motherhood? What should happen when women’s procreative interests come into conflict with those of the state (and can the state be said to have procreative interests)? All these questions, and many more, are discussed in a newly published collective volume that addresses the interplay between individual and collective interests in family-making.

The contributors analyse reproductive interventions facilitated by medical advances, especially those that transcend the limits of consent or bodily integrity. These include, for example, the collection at the parents’ request of reproductive tissue from children facing conditions or medical interventions that are a threat to their reproductive potential. Another example is that of uterus transplantation from mother to daughter. And yet another example is the collection of reproductive material from comatose or deceased people in order to use it to create children. How are such interventions justified?

They tend to be justified by appealing to the interests of the person on whom the intervention is performed. The removal of reproductive material from children has a therapeutic purpose, of allowing the child to become a parent later in life. It is in the interest of women to be able to carry a pregnancy and become mothers. A man who has lost his life before becoming a father is assumed to have an interest in his wife having his child, or his parents having grandchildren, even after his death.

These explanations sometimes obscure the expectations and interests of those who request or carry out the interventions. Parents could also request fertility preservation interventions on their children in order to preserve their own potential to become grandparents. Researchers who create extraordinary opportunities could also stand to gain prestige from such achievements. The wife or parents of a man who can no longer choose to become a father might also be acting in their own interests.

It is inevitable that the interests of family members, patients and doctors, research participants and researchers do not always coincide. The problem arises when the interests of some of the participants in a decision or intervention threaten, compromise or completely replace those of the very individuals who are the subjects of the decision or intervention. Moreover, certain conceptual entities such as the family are sometimes treated as having their own moral status and interests that may conflict with those of family members. When they do, the family’s interests are sometimes given priority over those of its members. The volume examines such situations.

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