The fall of the IOF tax and the specter of coalition presidentialism.

The government tried to increase the IOF (tax on financial transactions). It was thwarted. Not by technical error, nor by hasty calculation or naiveté. It was thwarted because Congress wanted to mark its territory again—the territory of the budget, of blackmail, of permanent campaigning. The scene reveals more than a defeat. It exposes a government that acts as if there were still a coalition pact, but what actually exists is something else: a field occupied by interests that no longer submit to classic political mediation.

There is still talk of a support base, governability, and dialogue with the center. But the coalition presidential system, the one that has sustained governments since redemocratization, no longer operates as a real mechanism. The model survives in discourse, in rituals, behind the scenes—but its effectiveness has been lost. What remains is a specter. Yes, specter is the exact term: an emptied institutional form, staged out of inertia, maintained as a façade of normality while decisions shift to other poles of power.

This model originated in a specific context. The 1988 Constitution designed a strong presidential system, but with a fragmented legislature and a pulverized party system. To govern, presidents began forming broad coalitions, stitching together majorities based on appointments and amendments. During the FHC era, political scientist Sérgio Abranches called this coalition presidentialism—an informal solution to a structural problem: how to produce stability without programmatic coherence. For a time, it worked. But as parties lost their identity and interests became autonomous, what was mediation turned into a charade. The coalition ceased to support a project and only sustained mandates. From then on, it became a specter.

The spectrum, here, is not an empty metaphor. It is what no longer works, but still structures the gesture. Presidents continue to distribute ministries, parties continue to demand slices of the budget, but the game has already changed. What replaces coalition presidentialism is not a new cohesive regime, but a shapeless composition: a jumble of authoritarian, opportunistic, and corporatist practices that, together, form what we can call a political composite.

Composite because there is no center, no direction. Only parts that operate simultaneously: a Congress that legislates and executes, interest groups that control territories, fragmented budgets, churches that function as parties, digital platforms that organize common sense. It is a regime that governs through dispersion. It is not chaos—it is a form of domination without public mediation, tailored to the interests of elites who no longer need politics as a common language.

The path to this point has milestones. Brazil has experimented with distinct forms of presidentialism: that of the colonels in the First Republic, Vargas' centralism, the authoritarianism of the dictatorship, and the coalition model of the New Republic. Each dealt in its own way with the historical impasse: how to maintain power concentrated in the hands of a few, with the appearance of participation by many. For three decades, coalition presidentialism was the way to sustain this tense balance.

This balance collapsed in 2013, and the rupture accelerated in 2016. The June protests opened cracks. Dilma's impeachment formalized the break. Since then, Congress has operated as an autonomous bloc. Parties lost density. Thematic blocs took the place of programmatic articulations. And the Executive, in order to continue existing, began to concede everything: positions, funds, control of planning. A government under constant pressure, where the bare minimum comes at a high price.

It was during Bolsonaro's government that this process became clearly defined. He began by rejecting the logic of coalitions, promising to govern without Congress and attacking the party system. He ended up capitulating to the centrist bloc, handing over the budget and normalizing the direct allocation of funds via rapporteur amendments. There was no longer party mediation or a government plan—only a crude agreement between a weakened Executive and a predatory Legislature. The coalition became merely a distribution of resources, and the spectrum took shape.

Today, the president governs surrounded by obstacles. A formal base of support does not guarantee a majority. The budget is not in his hands. The very concept of governability has been distorted: it is no longer about support to execute a project, but about permanent negotiation to avoid being overthrown. Parliamentary loyalty is budgetary, not political. And real power circulates outside of parliamentary groups: in the agricultural lobby, in the armed forces, in alliances with the financial system, and in agreements that bypass the ballot box.

The IOF case starkly illustrates this. The government attempted a move within the rules of the old game. Congress responded within the new logic: cutting, retaliating, imposing its will. The dispute wasn't about taxes, it was about who holds the key to the treasury and controls the public discourse. And once again it became clear that the Executive branch operates under the shadow of a dead model, while those who actually govern do so through other means.

This arrangement is not a transition to a new democratic regime. It serves the elites who no longer want to share power or redistribute anything. It is a system that sustains inequality and blocks conflict. The institutions remain, but their functions have been diverted. The Judiciary acts as a direct political actor. The Legislature executes. The Executive manages the impasse. And democracy becomes an empty performance, where the people vote, but the power has already been decided beforehand.

Class struggle hasn't disappeared—it's been reorganized. Financial capital, agribusiness, sectors of retail and churches occupy strategic positions. They are the ones who define what is permissible and what is not. On the other side, the popular majorities are outside the equation. Demobilized, made invisible, or treated as a public security problem. They only enter the debate when it's necessary to justify cuts or toughen repression. Otherwise, they don't count.

There's no way to rebuild the old model. And the composite system already governs with force. Either we change course and make other choices—regarding the project, the people, the social base—or the path will continue to be the obvious one: more concentration, more blackmail, more exclusion. It's not about waiting, but about organizing. History goes on. And, as always, it will depend on who is willing to confront it in action.

Lula governs today between the spectrum and the composite. He carries, through experience and choice, the gestures of coalition presidentialism—but operates within a system already captured by other logics. He negotiates as if there were still a pact, but delivers as one who knows he is under siege. This may be the last attempt to recompose, from above, a form of government based on mediation, institutional politics, and some national project. Or it may be the last chapter of an era in which politics still sought to combine governability with representation. If this attempt fails, what comes next may no longer even be concerned with appearances.