🗳 Election Observatory: Aug. 25

— by Paulo Abrão, executive director of the Washington Brazil Office

The first official week of Brazil’s presidential campaign served, above all, to confirm what the pre-campaign period had already suggested: the election is deeply polarized, statistically tied, and open to either of the two leading candidates. 

A new Nexus poll shows Lula at 41% and Flávio Bolsonaro at 37% in the first round, with a potential runoff at 46% to 45%, within the margin of error. More importantly, nearly nine out of ten voters in both camps say they have already made up their minds. There is little new in the starting picture, and precisely for that reason, the question of what might disrupt this balance becomes increasingly important.

The first developments of the campaign have also confirmed that corruption allegations will occupy a central place in the race. On one side are the cases and investigations affecting Lula’s inner circle; on the other, the controversies surrounding Flávio Bolsonaro and sectors of his political base. In an election this close, new allegations, investigations, or revelations could carry disproportionate weight. 

At the same time, relations with the United States remain part of the electoral agenda, both because of recent diplomatic tensions and concerns over foreign interference, as well as the Bolsonaro camp’s ties with sectors of the international far right. The differences between the political projects represented by the two poles are also sufficiently clear: Brazilian voters are unlikely to reach October without knowing what kind of country each side seeks to represent.

The first presidential debate, however, added little to this picture. Lula, Flávio Bolsonaro, and Romeu Zema did not participate, while the three candidates who did — Renan Santos, Ronaldo Caiado, and Augusto Cury — together represent a relatively small share of voting intentions. Even in their absence, Lula and Bolsonaro dominated the discussion. The other candidates spoke mainly about them, against them, or from the standpoint of the polarization they claim they want to overcome. 

Without the two leading contenders on stage, the debate is unlikely to have any meaningful impact on voters’ choices.

This brings us to the question everyone is asking: what can still change the presidential campaign domestically? Here, two variables stand out: the beginning of free electoral broadcasting on radio and television, and the unpredictable factor.

For decades, the start of free electoral advertising on radio and television represented a kind of second launch of the election. It was when millions of Brazilians became acquainted with candidates, proposals, biographies, and alliances — and when campaigns with more airtime could rapidly gain ground in the polls. Televised debates also had the power to produce decisive moments, memorable mistakes, and shifts in perception capable of changing the course of an election.

Since 2018, however, this logic has lost much of its force in Brazil. Social media, digital platforms, and especially WhatsApp have come to occupy a privileged position in the circulation of political information. Political communication has become permanent, fragmented, and less dependent on the major television networks. Fake news and disinformation have become part of the daily reality of elections. 

The 2026 campaign itself offers a sign of this transformation: of the thirteen presidential candidates, only four will have access to free electoral broadcasting. Lula will have 5 minutes and 31 seconds; Flávio Bolsonaro, 4 minutes and 20 seconds; Ronaldo Caiado, just over two minutes; and Augusto Cury, only 35 seconds. The other nine will depend essentially on social media and other forms of direct communication with voters.

Even so, a statistically tied election could restore some of television’s relevance. Beginning August 28, for 35 days, radio and television stations will devote 70 minutes a day to electoral advertising. Lula and Flávio Bolsonaro will together command most of the airtime available to presidential candidates. In a race in which both candidates’ bases appear firmly consolidated, the challenge may not be to persuade millions of voters, but rather to influence a relatively small segment capable of deciding the outcome.

The radio and television campaign begins on August 28. After years in which social media and messaging apps diminished the centrality of traditional media, television and radio will once again have the opportunity to speak daily to tens of millions of Brazilians. Can they still change votes, reduce rejection rates, or shift an election this polarized? Or will they simply reproduce, on another screen, choices that Brazilians have already made on social media?

Beyond that lies the unpredictable factor — everything that cannot be measured or calculated in advance. Do the campaigns have any trump cards to play in the final stretch? Are they preparing any surprise capable of changing the dynamics of the race? Could there be a new form of international intervention being prepared within the global far-right ecosystem? A covert manipulation campaign operating quietly in the darker corners of the web? New Federal Police operations?

Artificial intelligence and deepfakes add an unprecedented layer of uncertainty: not only because false content could influence voters, but because of the deeper risk that even authentic content may increasingly be met with suspicion. Today, the web sphere is precisely where some of the most unpredictable factors in an election emerge. 

Viral phenomena, sudden waves of cancellation, leaks, and lightning-fast digital campaigns can change the direction of a race from one day to the next. We have recently seen this happen in Colombia and Honduras. But the fact remains that nothing so far has been capable of substantially altering the current electoral balance.

And so, the drama of this election may ultimately come either from a renewed importance of television and radio in electoral campaigns, or from the tension of waiting — whether justified or not — for events that fall outside the campaign’s usual script.

Journalism and democracy are inseparable — and right now, both are under threat. A free press is not a luxury; it is the infrastructure of accountable governance, and when it weakens, so does everything else. That is why your support matters. 

By donating to the International Observatory on Brazil's 2026 Elections, you are directly funding the journalists and editors who make this work possible. Every contribution goes toward staffing, deeper coverage and the tools we need to do this job the right way — on behalf of readers like you.

Brazil's first presidential debate of 2026, aired Sunday, made history for the wrong reason: for the first time since the country's return to democracy, no leading candidate showed up.

Of the six invited candidates, three appeared: Renan Santos, Ronaldo Caiado and Augusto Cury (whose combined polling numbers hover around 10%). President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, Senator Flávio Bolsonaro and Romeu Zema withdrew.

The absentees dominated anyway. Santos opened by attacking Lula and Bolsonaro; Caiado and Cury followed suit, although with less vitriol. What passed for debate was a chummy exchange of shallow questions and attacks on the missing men and their voters. When journalists pressed for substance, the candidates faltered: asked about his education plan, Cury mused at length about the role of teachers in society.

Voters were left with nothing — no proposals from the frontrunners who stayed home, none from the men onstage who couldn't articulate them. Brazilian politicians appear no longer to conceive of politics outside polarization. Lula and Bolsonaro were the night's central figures, even though neither was present. Santos, who claims to stand against both Lulism and Bolsonarism, builds his campaign on the very polarization he denounces.

The night's defining image involved no policy at all: Gilberto Kassab, Caiado's running mate, dozing off as his own candidate spoke.

Monday's Nexus poll shows a potential runoff between Lula and Flávio Bolsonaro narrowing to a single point, 46% to 45% — a statistical tie, down from three last week. Lula leads the first round 41 to 37, and nearly 9 in 10 voters on each side say their minds are made up.

The ace up Lula's sleeve is a constitutional amendment that ends Brazil's six-day workweek by reducing the maximum hours from 44 to 40, with no pay cut. It cleared the House in May, then languished amid a feud between Lula and Senate President Davi Alcolumbre. An August reconciliation revived it: the rapporteurship went to Omar Aziz, a Lula ally running for governor with every incentive to move fast. A committee vote is set for next Wednesday — Congress's only voting week before the October election.

The politics are brutal for the opposition. Nexus finds that 44% of voters would punish lawmakers who oppose the measure; even among 2022 Bolsonaro voters, 53% support it. Flávio's campaign coordinator, Senator Rogério Marinho, is lobbying to stall the vote until November. But Alcolumbre wants another term as Senate president — and Lula has made his support conditional on passing the bill.

Brazil's next Congress will look a lot like the current one. New data from DIAP, a union-backed parliamentary watchdog, show 438 of the House's 513 sitting members (85%) have registered to run for re-election, one of the highest rates since 1990.

That matters because incumbency works. More than 65% of House members seeking re-election typically win, and House turnover has averaged 49% since 1990. DIAP projects renewal in 2026 could fall anywhere between 15% and 44% — potentially a historic low. The 75 House members not defending their seats are mostly aiming higher, not out: 42 are running for the Senate (double the 2022 figure), five for governor, and eight for state legislatures. Just 14 are leaving electoral politics altogether.

Why does the House resist renewal? DIAP points to individual budget earmarks that let incumbents deliver for their districts, campaign funds channeled preferentially to sitting members and party strategies — particularly in the "Big Center" — that prioritize legislative races over the presidential contest.

The Senate is another story. With two-thirds of its 81 seats in play, 32 of 54 outgoing senators seek re-election — and history suggests most will lose. In 2018, the last comparable cycle, only eight of 32 incumbents survived, and 46 of 54 winners were newcomers.

Members of the Superior Electoral Court (TSE) met last week to weigh punishments for synthetic content in campaigns. But the court hasn't even settled on a definition: its working description — content "altered with the help of AI" — is vague enough to confuse regulators and candidates.

The stakes are amplified by polarization. Beatriz Farrugia, a research analyst at Observatório Lupa, warns that AI-generated content could deepen the divides already shaping 2026: disinformation thrives on confirmation bias, and voters believe what flatters their priors. Worse, detection is losing the arms race. As generative tools improve, manipulated content grows more convincing while detection systems lag — and Brazil's electoral apparatus lacks the capabilities to keep up.

The greatest danger isn't just fake content fooling voters. It's that as synthetic media becomes indistinguishable from reality, even genuine information gets met with suspicion — corroding the shared factual ground on which democratic debate depends.

Brazil's airwaves go electoral on Friday, August 28. For 35 days, radio and TV stations must set aside 70 minutes daily for free campaign ads. Airtime tracks congressional muscle — and the TSE's allocation shows how lopsided the race is. Of 13 presidential candidates, only four qualify: Lula gets 5 minutes 31 seconds, Flávio Bolsonaro 4:20, Ronaldo Caiado just over two minutes, and Augusto Cury a blink-and-miss-it 35 seconds. The other nine will campaign on social media alone.