by Jim Hodgson
Lula’s victory Sunday has global significance. Lula – Luiz Inácio da Silva – faced threats from U.S. President Donald Trump. His campaign withstood interference by the U.S. government and by giant tech companies, notably Meta.

In his victory speech, Lula proclaimed: “This country does not accept being anyone’s back yard.” The United States has always treated Latin America and the Caribbean as a back yard. Even when then-President Joe Biden said in 2022 that it wasn’t the back yard, but the front yard, he still implied U.S. possession.
Trump’s revival of the early-nineteenth century Monroe Doctrine, continuing airstrikes against fishing boats while arguing without evidence they were used for drug-trafficking, the fuel blockade against Cuba, the kidnapping of Venezuela’s president, and overt interference in elections in Honduras, Colombia and Argentina (among others) all show renewed U.S. determination to force the region’s submission – together, evidently, with that of Canada.
This election was the fourth that he has won (2002, 2006, 2022 and 2026), but there were three others before 2002 which he lost.

The deep roots of Lula’s movement
In December 1989, a night or two before the run-off vote in that year’s election (Lula’s first campaign), I was one of about 300,000 people who gathered in the wide avenue leading to the old cathedral in Rio de Janeiro for Lula’s final rally of that campaign. The famous “Olé” soccer chant, altered here to end “LU-LA, LU-LA,” reverberated in the steel and concrete canyon.
After long decades of military dictatorship, Brazilians were making history: this was their first direct presidential election since 1960. In 1980 with the military still in power, Lula and others formed the Partido dos Trabalhadores (PT) – the workers’ party – from his base in the industrial suburbs of São Paulo. It built links with social movements across Brazil: farmers, landless farm-workers, women, Indigenous people, ecological defenders and others.
What I learned in my 1989 visit was that many of those movements had roots in the development of Christian base communities in the Catholic Church and in the processes of popular education and cultural action developed decades earlier in Brazil by people like Paulo Freire and Augusto Boal. Those methods had spread rapidly across Latin America, and shaped the work I did in the Dominican Republic from late 1986 through 1988. I was a “communications technician,” working in an organization dedicated to popular education and cultural action. My role was to train people in basic skills: how to write a news release, how to publish a newsletter. (This was long before the internet!) My colleagues did the prior work: adult literacy, building awareness. The people worked on issues of land, water, and threats of expulsion from their homes. I helped them make more noise about their concerns.

I returned to Toronto from the Dominican Republic at the end of 1988 and began working with the Canadian Council of Churches (CCC) in early 1989. That work brought me to Rio de Janeiro for a global ecumenical “Cultural Action Workshop.”
The World Council of Churches and the Brazilian Ecumenical Youth Union (UBRAJE) organized the event for young adult leaders from around the world to share experiences of action for social change, and to learn from each other. The theme was “The Senses of Creation,” and participants (about 20 of us from various parts of the world) were encouraged to use our senses to increase our awareness of our surroundings as a sort of first step in a longer process of personal and social change.
We spent a day, for example, visiting parts of Rio de Janeiro: a traditional neighbourhood market, a middle-class beach area (Ipanema), and a Pentecostal church. We broke into small groups, each group corresponding to one of the senses. Later, we returned to our conference centre and talked about our experiences. This wide-ranging discussion succeeded in heightening our awareness of various components of Brazilian society.
Drama exercises took us into our own minds and bodies, and then back out into the world, moving us to think about our place in the world. It seemed quite simple to open a huge trunk, remove costumes from the trunk and don the garb of some other personality. Here we entered the world of Boal’s “popular theatre,” used in Brazil to help people understand issues which surround them and begin to see what can be done to make change happen.
The Brazilians with whom we worked showed us how these activities helped participants to discover their roots, notice the ground on which they stood, and match their ideals to proposals for political and social action, lessons that we would later apply in our own contexts.
One of the organizers was Mauricio Lissovsky, who worked then with Brazil’s Institute for the Study of Religion (ISER) and later as a communications professor at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro. Despite the disappointment of Lula’s loss, Brazilians, he said, would continue to strive for transformation of Brazil “with full awareness of the ground beneath our feet.” Action for change could not be rooted in ideologies that were abstracted from people’s daily realities, but rooted instead in the ways that people live, work and express themselves.
In the years that followed, I thought often of Mauricio’s words as Brazil’s Landless Peoples Movement (MST) emerged alongside other social movements across the country. These movements played lead roles in the new international social movement spaces like the World Social Forum and the Hemispheric Social Alliance. Meanwhile, Lula’s political movement gathered strength and the PT won power in various cities and states.
Finally, in 2002, Lula won the presidency. He and his successor, Dilma Rousseff, led the country until 2016, when Rousseff was removed from office through a series of legal and parliamentary manoeuvres that eventually led to the presidency of the right-wing populist Jair Bolsonaro. Lula won the 2022 vote and returned to power – and won again in 2026 as the whole region seemed to be shifting to the right.
Some people from the social movements took positions within various PT-led local, state and national governments, and played positive roles within the structures of power. But the movements themselves retained their autonomy from the party and governments. When necessary, they criticized various government policies, such as the glacial pace of land reform, the charity model implicit in the government’s anti-hunger program, persisting corruption, the government’s embrace of food fuels like ethanol despite their impact on food prices and supply, and more recently the government’s move to allow oil and gas exploitation in the Atlantic Ocean near the mouth of the Amazon River.
Leaving aside for the moment debates over successive PT administrations, what had been underway among social movements in Brazil and many other countries in Latin America since long before the PT’s electoral success was a process of stepping back from reliance on political parties as vehicles (much less vanguards) for social change.
Instead, the social movements themselves become protagonists themselves in the political arena – as had Lula in his labour-organizing days. Widespread use of the techniques of popular education accomplished what they were intended to do: create new social subjects – people who were passive no longer and who understood themselves as agents of change.



