Lula’s Irreversible Fall: The Anti-Democratic Stain That No Spin Can Erase
ByHotspotnews
Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva once embodied a powerful story: a metalworker who rose from poverty to lead the largest democracy in Latin America, promising inclusion, dignity, and a break from Brazil’s elitist past. That narrative is now dead. What remains is a portrait of a leader who, given a second chance at power, chose alliances with dictators, tolerated judicial intimidation of opponents, and presided over an administration that increasingly treats democratic dissent as a threat rather than a right. The damage to his image is not temporary or cyclical—it is structural and permanent.
The most devastating blow has come from Lula’s enthusiastic embrace of the world’s most notorious autocrats. He has repeatedly refused to condemn Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in clear terms, instead spreading narratives that equate the victim with the aggressor and call for the lifting of sanctions on Moscow. He has maintained cordial—and at times openly admiring—relations with Nicolás Maduro, whose regime stole an election in plain sight, crushed protests with lethal force, and turned Venezuela into a regional symbol of democratic collapse. Lula’s government has deepened economic and political ties with Xi Jinping’s China and the Iranian theocracy while simultaneously lecturing Western democracies about “imperialism” and “neocolonialism.” This is not pragmatic non-alignment; it is ideological alignment with the enemies of liberal democracy.
Inside Brazil the pattern repeats. Political adversaries are prosecuted under elastic interpretations of law, social-media accounts are summarily blocked or removed on orders from a single Supreme Court justice, and public criticism of that same justice is treated as potential criminal contempt. The pattern is unmistakable: institutions that should protect free expression and due process are instead weaponized to shield the government and punish its critics. When a former president is barred from running again on grounds many jurists consider tenuous, when amnesty legislation is frozen by judicial fiat, and when the ruling coalition cheers each new arrest of a political opponent, the label “anti-democratic” stops being an insult and becomes a factual description.
The international community has taken notice. Lula is no longer received as the charismatic champion of the Global South; he is increasingly viewed as unreliable, hypocritical, and dangerously sympathetic to authoritarian projects. European governments that once courted him now keep their distance. Democratic leaders in Latin America treat Brasília with polite suspicion rather than partnership. Investors, diplomats, and editorial boards that once wrote glowing profiles now publish analyses asking whether Brazil under Lula is sliding toward competitive authoritarianism. That question alone is fatal to any claim of moral leadership.
At home the numbers tell the same story. Approval ratings that once hovered near 80% during his first terms now struggle to stay above 35–40%. The slide is not explained by inflation or unemployment alone; it tracks directly with visible authoritarian drift and the repudiation of core democratic values. Middle-class voters who once saw Lula as a moderating force now see a man who winks at repression when it serves his side. Progressive intellectuals who defended him against Bolsonaro’s attacks find themselves unable to defend the censorship, the selective justice, or the open courtship of tyrants. The coalition that brought him back to power in 2022 has fractured; what remains is a hard core that mistakes loyalty for legitimacy.
Redemption requires acknowledgment and course correction. Lula has offered neither. Instead he doubles down, portraying every criticism as a far-right conspiracy and every restriction on speech as necessary defense of democracy. That rhetorical maneuver might still mobilize a shrinking base, but it convinces almost no one else. The rest of the world—and increasingly Brazilians themselves—have already rendered their verdict: the Lula of 2026 is not the victim of a smear campaign; he is the architect of his own disrepute.
History will record that when given the opportunity to strengthen Brazilian democracy after a traumatic populist episode, Lula chose instead to weaken it—domestically through institutional capture and internationally through solidarity with despots. That choice cannot be walked back with new photo-ops, new promises, or new scapegoats. The stain is indelible. The image is broken beyond repair. And the responsibility belongs entirely to him.