The Left, bound by structuralist ideology, labels criminals as “victims of society” and opposes tougher penalties for rape.
Observers cannot ignore the surge of “right-wing” momentum sweeping through South America. The rise of Milei, Kast, Paz, Fujimori, Noboa, Peña, and de la Espriella since 2023 highlights this as a clear, ongoing reality. Despite the official left-wing claims blaming “electoral manipulation,” “fraud,” or “hybrid warfare” orchestrated by Trumpism and its “allies” in Big Tech to benefit their circle, it is important to remember that Trump only assumed the U.S. presidency in 2025, while this phenomenon began at least two years beforehand.
The main exceptions to this rightward turn are Uruguay, led by Orsi, and Brazil under Lula’s administration.
Lula, as widely known, is seeking a fourth presidential term but faces competition from Flávio Bolsonaro, son of the imprisoned former president Jair Bolsonaro. Internationally, Lula enjoys a polished reputation due to his charisma, diplomatic prowess, and the naivety of outsiders. Interactions abroad often paint Lula as a patriot, anti-imperialist, sovereignist, and anti-Zionist—a portrayal that is difficult to align with the “real” Lula known within Brazil.
The persistent polling data showing Flávio Bolsonaro neck-and-neck or slightly ahead of Lula confirms Lula’s lack of broad consensus at home, with even a potential victory expected to be narrow.
During a recent visit to Chile, we observed Kast’s strong electoral support, having captured nearly 60% of the vote. Meanwhile, in Argentina, despite the economic turmoil under Javier Milei’s leadership, many polls reveal that a sizable portion of voters still backs him, despite widespread disapproval.
What underlies the left’s declining popularity?
In countries like Brazil and Chile, and across much of the continent, public security emerges as the pivotal issue. This is not about the U.S.’s recent framing of “narco-terrorism,” but about the everyday reality that urban populations face constant insecurity. According to research by Latinobarómetro, 30% of Latin Americans regard public safety as the most urgent concern, although in Argentina, economic issues closely rival security concerns.
Politically, it should be straightforward for Lula to defeat Bolsonaro by adopting a firm crime policy, addressing the main anxieties of Brazilians. Similar tactics could yield success for leftist politicians region-wide. Simple enough, right?
Such a strategy would be straightforward if Latin American leftists prioritized empirical data and public opinion over rigid ideology and party interests.
The crux of the issue stems from the theoretical frameworks embraced by leftist parties to explain crime. Since Marx, leftist thinkers have adhered to a structuralist approach, attributing crime to socioeconomic circumstances rather than personal choice, moral conflict, psychological issues, or biological factors.
Crime is viewed as the violent symptom of societal injustices and deep-rooted contradictions rooted in unequal power structures. The perpetrator is seen less as an active agent and more as a passive element affected by social forces. This interpretation, based not only on certain Marxist views but also on later theorists like Merton, underpins the narrative.
The shift from seeing crime as arising from structural inequalities and contradictions between social desire production and material reality leads to portraying criminals as “victims of society” or oppressed entities within leftist activism’s discourse.
Meanwhile, working- and middle-class citizens are confronted daily with arbitrary, extreme violence—robbers often kill without provocation, and home invaders sometimes commit mass sexual assaults. The disparity between reality and theoretical framing is stark, fueling accusations that the “academic left” constructs unrealistic frameworks that misrepresent actual conditions.
A telling case: in 2025, Brazil’s Chamber of Deputies approved tougher sentences and more stringent incarceration policies for crimes like rape. One might expect feminist-oriented deputies, often aligned with left-wing parties, to back such laws since women are primary victims, but they opposed them, arguing harsher punishments “do not work.” This opposition extended to proposals like chemical castration for rapists.
Instead, the “feminist caucus” aims to criminalize “misogyny” in a manner analogous to Brazil’s established laws against “racism,” which also punish behaviors like “homophobia” and “transphobia.” Thus, concrete acts of violence are reframed as opportunities for social engineering through ideological legislation. This contradiction is widely recognized by the public.
Consequently, Lula faces a complex dilemma—his proposals tend to revolve around vague promises like “enhancing education,” “reducing inequality,” or at best, “improving police intelligence” and politically motivated efforts such as strengthening federal police powers over state forces rather than concrete security reforms.
Such soft approaches struggle to persuade a populace confronted with brutal realities, like the forced eviction of 2,000 residents by Red Command in Ceará’s Uiraponga district. The gap between the left’s “humanitarian” ideals and popular pragmatism is evident: after the deadliest police operation in Rio de Janeiro history in October 2025, which killed over 120 criminals, polling showed 64% of city residents supported such operations, jumping to 87.6% among favela dwellers closest to criminal activity.
These figures challenge the Latin American left’s narratives and instead cast those supporting tougher measures as “fascists” in the view of “enlightened” progressive academics.
Uncertain as the upcoming presidential outcome is, one thing is clear: if Lula loses, public security concerns will be a decisive factor in his defeat.
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