President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva used Brazil’s Independence Day this September 7 to sharpen his rhetoric against political rivals.
In a five-minute national address, he declared that Brazilians who lobby abroad for sanctions against their own country are nothing less than “traitors of the homeland.”
The remark came after former U.S. president Donald Trump imposed a sweeping 50% tariff on Brazilian imports, one of the harshest trade penalties in decades.
The measure, enforced in August, followed months of lobbying in Washington by Congressman Eduardo Bolsonaro, son of Jair Bolsonaro.
Now living in the United States, Eduardo described the tariff as “bitter but necessary medicine” to pressure Brazil’s Supreme Court, which he accuses of persecuting his father.
At the center of this confrontation stands Justice Alexandre de Moraes. Praised by Lula’s allies as a guardian of democracy, he has ordered arrests, asset freezes, and account suspensions against Bolsonaro-aligned figures accused of plotting a coup.
Critics counter that these actions amount to censorship and political persecution. The U.S. government sided with the latter view: in July it revoked Moraes’s visa and sanctioned him under the Global Magnitsky Act, citing “an oppressive campaign of censorship and arbitrary detentions.”
Sovereignty Reframed
For Lula’s camp, however, it is not Moraes who betrayed the nation but those who invite foreign pressure.
To cement that narrative, the government rolled out the campaign “Brasil com S de Soberania”, followed by the Workers’ Party’s “Defenda o Brasil.”
Social media feeds filled with images of the Brazilian flag stamped with slogans like “false patriots” and “traitors of the homeland.” One widely shared video declared that “patriots salute another flag” — a jab at Bolsonaro supporters who waved U.S. banners alongside Brazilian ones.
The move seeks not only to defend national pride but to redefine who is allowed to claim it. Symbols once associated with Bolsonaro rallies are now presented as the rightful property of Lula’s movement.
Independence Day itself was framed as a loyalty test: either march for sovereignty with the government or be cast as siding with outsiders.
Shrinking Space for Dissent
The consequences extend beyond slogans. Backed by the Supreme Court, the administration is pushing for broad regulation of digital platforms, empowering authorities to remove posts or accounts accused of spreading “hate” or “fake news.”
Supporters call it protection against extremism. Critics warn it blurs the line between public safety and political control.
When political opponents are recast as enemies of the nation, the risk is that disagreement no longer belongs to the realm of debate but of crime.
Citizens may find themselves pressured to repeat official narratives to avoid suspicion. Communities that organize outside the government’s framework — whether churches, civic groups, or independent media — risk being marginalized or cut off from financial and digital tools they rely on to survive.
Parallels Abroad
This is not unique to Brazil. In Venezuela, Nicolás Maduro’s government branded opposition leaders who supported U.S. sanctions as “traitors to the fatherland” and opened treason trials.
In Nicaragua, Daniel Ortega went further, passing a law that stripped dissidents of the right to run for office if they called for foreign pressure.
Both cases show how quickly patriotic language can become a weapon to delegitimize rivals.
Brazil has not crossed those lines. Elections remain competitive, institutions function, and civil society is active.
Yet the language and tactics now visible — monopolizing symbols, labeling dissenters as disloyal, regulating speech under broad categories — echo patterns seen in softer forms of authoritarianism.
A Loyalty Test for Brazil
What is emerging is a clash between two visions of legitimacy.
Bolsonaro’s allies argue that foreign sanctions are a defense of democracy against a judiciary gone rogue.
Lula’s government insists that only by resisting U.S. pressure and denouncing “traitors” can sovereignty be protected.
Both sides claim to defend Brazil, but each paints the other as an existential threat.
The danger lies in the frame itself. When politics becomes a matter of patriot versus traitor, ordinary dissent risks being treated as betrayal.
Citizens may be forced to choose between silence or stigmatization, between repeating slogans or facing exclusion.
Brazil’s democracy is not yet lost, but the trajectory raises alarms. A country that once prided itself on pluralism now risks narrowing the space for disagreement.
History suggests that when a government monopolizes patriotism and treats rivals as disloyal by definition, freedom of thought is the first casualty.
