Parecia uma reunião da Ku Klux Klan. Só faltou o capuz.
No coração de Nova Iguaçu, às vésperas de uma eleição que divide o Brasil, Lula subiu ao palco não apenas para fazer campanha, mas para nomear uma ausência. O 7 de Setembro — data que pertence a todos os brasileiros — havia sido convertido, segundo ele, em um espelho partidário que refletia apenas os rostos e os interesses de uma minoria privilegiada. Em tempos de polarização profunda, a disputa pelo significado dos símbolos nacionais revela tanto sobre um país quanto os próprios resultados eleitorais.
- Lula comparou o ato do 7 de Setembro de Bolsonaro a uma reunião da Ku Klux Klan sem capuzes — uma provocação calculada para expor o que ele via como exclusão racial e econômica escancarada.
- A ausência de negros, pardos, pobres e trabalhadores no evento presidencial tornou-se, nas palavras de Lula, a prova mais eloquente do projeto político do adversário.
- Um empresário do setor de varejo de luxo foi ironizado como o verdadeiro protagonista do ato, reduzido à figura de mascote ornamental de uma campanha desconectada do Brasil real.
- Bolsonaro havia transformado um feriado nacional em comício pessoal, e Lula usou esse gesto para reencadear a narrativa: não força, mas exclusão; não nação, mas facção.
- Com as eleições a semanas de distância e os dois campos em mobilização intensa, o embate sobre quem representa o Brasil verdadeiro chegava ao seu momento mais agudo.
Em uma terça-feira à noite em Nova Iguaçu, município da periferia do Rio de Janeiro, Lula subiu ao palco de um comício e fez uma avaliação contundente do que havia acontecido dois dias antes. O 7 de Setembro — Dia da Independência, data que pertence à nação inteira — havia sido apropriado por Bolsonaro como demonstração de força eleitoral, uma mobilização de sua base às vésperas do pleito de outubro.
A crítica de Lula foi direta e imagética. O ato, disse ele, parecia uma reunião da Ku Klux Klan, só que sem os capuzes. O que mais chamava atenção era o que faltava: rostos negros, rostos pardos, pobres, trabalhadores. A multidão, em seu relato, era monocromática e economicamente estreita — um retrato de exclusão disfarçado de celebração nacional.
Lula foi além e ironizou a figura de um empresário ligado a uma rede de lojas de varejo que teria se tornado a principal atração do ato bolsonarista. Comparou-o a Louro José, personagem televisivo conhecido pela presença ornamental — uma mascote, não um líder. A provocação tinha um alvo preciso: mostrar que o evento revelava, involuntariamente, para quem Bolsonaro governava.
O ataque chegou em um momento de corrida acirrada. Os atos do 7 de Setembro haviam gerado grande repercussão e eram apresentados pelo campo bolsonarista como prova de vitalidade política. Lula inverteu o enquadramento: não unidade nacional, mas evidência de um presidente que havia abandonado os pobres e os trabalhadores em favor de uma elite confortável. Quem estava lá — e quem não estava — dizia tudo.
On a Tuesday evening in Nova Iguaçu, a working-class municipality in Rio de Janeiro's sprawling periphery, Lula took the stage at a campaign rally and delivered a withering assessment of his rival's recent display of political power. The occasion was September 7th—Brazil's Independence Day, a date meant to belong to the nation as a whole. But Bolsonaro, the sitting president, had transformed it into something else: a mobilization of his own base, a show of force designed to energize his supporters ahead of the October election.
Lula's critique was sharp and specific. He said the event looked like a gathering of the Ku Klux Klan, except without the hoods. What struck him most was what was absent: no Black faces, no brown faces, no poor people, no workers. The crowd, in his telling, was monochromatic and economically narrow—a portrait of exclusion masquerading as national celebration.
The comparison was deliberately provocative, but Lula grounded it in observable fact. He noted that the most prominent figure at Bolsonaro's rally was a wealthy businessman associated with the Havan furniture chain, a man who appeared to function as the campaign's main attraction, its public face. Lula mocked this arrangement, suggesting the businessman had become something like a mascot—a reference to a famous Brazilian television character, Louro José, known for his bright plumage and ornamental presence.
What Lula was really saying was this: Bolsonaro had hijacked a date that belongs to all Brazilians and used it to stage a rally for the wealthy and the comfortable. He had taken a national holiday and made it personal, made it partisan, made it exclusive. The Independence Day celebration, which should have honored the country's founding and included its full spectrum of people, had instead become a mirror of Bolsonaro's own political base—affluent, predominantly white, disconnected from the struggles of ordinary working Brazilians.
The attack landed in the context of a tightening race. The 2022 presidential election was weeks away, and both camps were mobilizing intensely. Bolsonaro's September 7th events had drawn large crowds and generated significant media attention. They were meant to demonstrate his strength, his ability to fill streets with supporters. But Lula's response reframed the spectacle as something revealing and damning: not a show of national unity, but evidence of a president who had abandoned the poor and working people of Brazil in favor of the wealthy few.
The comparison to the KKK was inflammatory, certainly. But it served Lula's larger argument: that Bolsonaro's Brazil was one of exclusion, that his political project had no room for Black Brazilians, for the poor, for workers. By invoking the imagery of American white supremacy, Lula was suggesting that Bolsonaro's political movement, whatever it claimed to represent, was fundamentally about the interests of a narrow, privileged segment of society. The rally on Independence Day had inadvertently revealed this truth, Lula argued. All you had to do was look at who was there—and who was not.
Notable Quotes
It looked like a KKK meeting. All it was missing were the hoods. There were no Black people, no brown people, no poor people, no workers.— Lula, at a campaign rally in Nova Iguaçu
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did Lula choose to compare the rally to the KKK specifically? Wasn't that an extreme comparison?
It was deliberately extreme, yes. But Lula wasn't saying Bolsonaro was literally running a white supremacist organization. He was using the KKK as a symbol of exclusion—a group defined by who it kept out. The point was about the demographic reality of the crowd: no Black people, no poor people, no workers. That absence was the thing he wanted to highlight.
But couldn't Bolsonaro's supporters argue that people of all backgrounds were welcome to attend?
Theoretically, yes. But Lula was describing what actually happened, not what was theoretically possible. The crowd that showed up was wealthy and predominantly white. That's a fact about who Bolsonaro's political movement attracts and mobilizes.
What was the significance of mentioning the Havan businessman?
It was a way of saying that the rally wasn't really about Brazil or independence—it was about Bolsonaro and his wealthy allies. This businessman became the public face of the event, which told you something about whose interests were being served.
How did this attack fit into the broader campaign?
It was Lula trying to redefine what Bolsonaro's September 7th events meant. Instead of letting them be seen as shows of strength, he was saying they revealed something ugly about Bolsonaro's political base and priorities. It was about controlling the narrative around the rally.
Did this kind of rhetoric help or hurt Lula's campaign?
That depends on your audience. For Lula's base—poor and working-class Brazilians—it reinforced the message that Bolsonaro had abandoned them. For others, it might have seemed like overheated campaign language. But it was clearly calculated to resonate with voters who felt excluded from Bolsonaro's Brazil.