Almost three years after taking power, and after sparking hope among progressive forces all over the word, the Brazilian Workers’ Party (PT) is in total disarray amid a major corruption scandal. Lula’s government is paralyzed. The Brazilian people and the left have not been this politically disenchanted and discouraged since the military overthrow of João Goulart’s government in 1964. The crisis has also caused Lula to slip in his leadership role promoting the economic integration of South America and the building of a coalition of developing countries to resist the “globalization for the rich” pushed by developed nations.
All evidence points to the PT’s mortal wound as being self-inflicted. This is not to dismiss the array of powerful forces, inside and outside the country, committed to hastening the patient’s death, including U.S. interests fearful of Lula’s international posture. But the PT’s self-destruction can be traced back to the origins of the corruption scandal, and its roots in the victorious presidential campaign of 2002. Tired of unsuccessful runs for president, Lula, José Dirceu—the PT’s and Lula’s key political strategist—and the entire PT leadership decided to pay the price to win. And what a hefty price it was.
To gain the support—or at least the neutrality—of business interests and some of the mainstream media, Lula gave written assurances that he would not change the neoliberal policies of the previous government, particularly regarding IMF agreements. Additionally, he not only made electoral alliances with small conservative parties (his vice president, José Alencar, is from one of those parties), but also with marginal political parties that would later be at the center of the scandal. Last but not least, the monetary price of the PT’s U.S.-style 2002 electoral campaign was surely staggering by Brazilian standards, well beyond the normal fund-raising abilities of the party.
The electoral alliances made by the PT, however, did not provide the party with a congressional majority. Moreover, several PT congressional representatives who refused to vote for the government’s neoliberal proposals were summarily expelled from the party; others, in disgust, simply left. To gain a majority in Congress, the PT sought the votes of congressmen from small opportunistic parties whose sole reason for being is to sell their vote to the highest bidder.
The scandal, which first erupted last May, involves off-the-book payments to parties for their support in the 2002 election and a slush fund to cover the debts incurred during the U.S.-style electoral campaign. In a rather crass twist, congressional representatives of other parties were also provided with monthly “stipends” as a reward for their vote for government legislation. The source of the money to pay for these expenditures is still somewhat obscure, but it apparently came from several unlawful sources and was partly laundered through foreign banks. The money didn’t enrich the PT leadership or Lula and his family; it was corruption to buy political power. This is not unique in Brazil, or for that matter in the United States, but for a progressive mass party such as the PT it is tantamount to political suicide. And suicide it was.
The PT essentially has ceased to exist as a mass party. Almost the entire leadership of the party, including José Dirceu, has had to resign because of their involvement in the scandal. Serious progressive militants have either “gone home” or are an ineffective minority within the party. The union workers as well as the general electorate are totally disenchanted. It is unlikely that the PT will ever recover its previous standing.
Lula is losing his credibility as well. In response to the scandal, he has lamely crisscrossed the country trying to gain support from the poor, leading some critics to accuse him of “populism” or “chavismo.” But Lula is no Hugo Chávez. Chávez, a traditional caudillo, has massive popular support, because he gives something back to the people. Lula has given nothing to the poor but empty promises. Even before the scandal his government was paralyzed by incompetence and cronyism to such an extent that it had only spent a fraction of the already little money allocated for social programs. Despite a huge trade surplus, economic growth is modest, much lower than that of several other Latin American countries, and the widening disparity between rich and poor has reached levels not seen since the 1980s.
No example is more telling of Lula’s distance from his origins and the party’s base than his personal opposition to a proposal that would have raised the national minimum wage from about $100 to $125 a month. All the while, his party, the PT, was giving $12,000 monthly payments to several congressmen in exchange for their support of unpopular government-backed legislation, like the bill that reduced Social Security benefits. The people are not coming to Lula’s rescue—and rightfully so.
The ultimate consequences of the corruption scandals and the demise of the PT are still difficult to fathom. The opposition parties do not seem to have control of the process and they are unsure whether to seek Lula’s impeachment. The crisis is spreading rapidly, with corruption schemes still being unveiled, including one involving the rightwing speaker of the house. The opposition parties must also be afraid that the scandals could spill over to them. Indeed, they are no strangers to the backroom dealings and shady financing of electoral campaigns. The possibility of a military coup is vehemently denied across the political spectrum, but it cannot be completely ruled out, particularly if the crisis spins completely out of control. Finally, there is also the remote possibility that the crisis will coast to oblivion, and establishment politics—minus the PT and Lula as we knew them—will continue as before. For progressive forces in Brazil and abroad, the lesson from the sad collapse of the PT and Lula’s government is that winning power at any cost can lead to a more substantial defeat—and even sooner than imagined.
About the Author
Thomas Maack grew up in São Paulo and was a political exile during the Brazilian military dictatorship. Since the political amnesty of 1979, he returns to Brazil almost every year, and is
