Trump, the Bolsonaros and the Brazil that does not bow

Tensions between the governments of Trump's United States and Lula's Brazil, although eased after the meeting between the two presidents in Malaysia, are still a cause for concern. 

Since his return to the White House, the US president has been trying to reshape hemispheric geopolitics under the old slogan of "America First"—now disguised as a moral crusade against socialism and progressive governments. At the center of his sights are Latin America and Brazil, which under Lula's leadership became a symbol of sovereignty, social inclusion, and international prominence. The friction is not accidental: it is political, ideological, economic, and electoral.

Trump 2.0 has been striving to undermine progressive experiences in Latin America. He has reinstated sanctions and attacked Maduro's Venezuela—under the guise of fighting drug trafficking—insulted the Mexican government, mocked Colombia, and launched trade threats against Brazil. 

The Brazilian case is special. Lula represents the opposite of everything that Trumpism symbolizes: international solidarity, environmental protection, multilateralism, and social inclusion. This is not merely a diplomatic disagreement, but a clash between two models of civilization—one based on fear and force, the other on cooperation and democracy.

In October 2025, Donald Trump confirmed that he had authorized the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) to conduct covert operations inside Venezuela, as well as to consider the possibility of attacks on Venezuelan territory—a clear sign that the United States does not hesitate to use instruments of hemispheric intervention to pressure governments that deviate from traditional alignment. 

This escalation reinforces the pattern of attacks that aim not only at economic or commercial control, but also at destabilizing progressive governments through military or operational threats — which provides the logical backdrop for understanding why the rhetoric of "invading Guanabara Bay," proposed by Senator Flávio Bolsonaro, the eldest son of former President Jair Messias who was sentenced to 27 years and three months in prison, takes on more than just rhetorical contours: it is part of a hemispheric logic of intimidation.

The coup-mongering rhetoric of the Bolsonaros.

It was in this scenario that the Brazilian far-right returned to the scene with a mixture of delusion and calculation. The clueless 01 declared on social media that "Trump should send his ships to Guanabara Bay," in an explicit provocation to the Lula government. The absurdity, which at first glance seemed like a joke, became a symbol of the desperation of a right wing orphaned of power and lacking relevance. By evoking an "invasion" of Brazilian territory, the senator attempts to revive the old discourse of foreign tutelage, as if the country's destiny should be decided in Washington.

The statement would be merely grotesque if it weren't placed within a broader context. The third son, Eduardo Bolsonaro, who lives in the United States, has been the main link between Trumpism and Bolsonarism. He participates in far-right conferences, maintains close relationships with Trump's advisors, and repeats, with a tropical accent, the rhetoric of conspiracy. From there, he spreads attacks on Lula, propagates lies about the Brazilian electoral system, and poses as a soldier in an ideological crusade that attempts to unify the authoritarian right of the continent. The Bolsonaro clan acts as a symbolic extension of Trump's campaign in Latin America.

The shadow of 2026

The backdrop is clear: the 2026 presidential elections. With Lula consolidated as the favorite in all polls, Bolsonaro's supporters seek to destabilize the process even before the official start of the contest. The tactic is well-known. In 2021, Trump attempted to delegitimize the American elections, encouraging his followers to invade the Capitol. The script was repeated, now tropicalized, in Brazil on January 8, 2023, with the takeover and vandalization of the Praça dos Três Poderes (Three Powers Square) by "Brazilian patriots" dissatisfied with Lula's victory at the polls in 2022. 

The narrative of fraud, the appeal to force, and the cult of disorder make up the strategy of those who know they did not win by vote, which led to the conviction of the rioters by the Supreme Federal Court (STF) for attempted violent abolition of the Democratic Rule of Law, coup d'état, participation in an armed criminal organization, aggravated damage, and deterioration of listed heritage. 

Behind the scenes, Trump's advisors are fueling the idea that Brazil has distanced itself "from the West" by strengthening ties with China, Russia, and the BRICS. For Trumpism, Lula is the face of the challenge to American hegemony. Brazil, under Lula, in regaining international prominence, has come to be seen as an "undisciplined" country—an expression used in recent reports from the United States Department of State. 

From Pigs Bay to Guanabara Bay

The “invasion of Guanabara Bay” by the United States proposed by Senator Flávio Bolsonaro on October 23rd is as absurd as it is symbolic. The image evokes, albeit grotesquely, the memory of another Latin American bay: the Bay of Pigs in Cuba, where, in 1961, the CIA attempted to overthrow Fidel Castro's revolutionary government. In that episode, the United States trained and financed Cuban exiles from Miami to carry out a disguised military invasion—an operation that failed in just three days, but forever recorded the arrogance of an empire incapable of accepting the self-determination of a people.

Flávio Bolsonaro seems to want to re-enact, in a tropical and farcical version, the same plot: appealing to foreign power to intervene against a legitimate and popular government. The difference is that, this time, there are no exiles in Miami willing to disembark with weapons, but there is a poisoned discourse that attempts to transform fear into a weapon. If the Bay of Pigs was the tragedy of imperialism, Guanabara Bay is its belated comedy—a colonial fantasy that only reveals the contempt of a far-right that calls itself "patriotic" for its own sovereignty.

And the Brazil of 2025 is not the besieged Cuba of 1961. It is a nation that leads the BRICS, presides over the G20, and is preparing to host COP-30. No foreign fleet, real or imagined, can stop the course of a country that has learned to stand on its own two feet. Flávio Bolsonaro's gesture, invoking an invasion, is an insult to Brazilian history—and a melancholy echo of the past when generals sought the blessing of the CIA.

The Brazil that does not bow down.

Brazil today is different. It has resumed growth, rebuilt its social policies, and is once again engaging with the world. At the G20, Lula is respected as the voice of emerging economies; at the UN, he advocates for fairer governance; and within BRICS, he leads the discussion on a new global financial system. 

In Malaysia, President Lula has just received an honorary doctorate from the National University of Malaysia. This dignified and sovereign stance disturbs the dependent elites and the heirs of colonialism, who see subordination as the only way to exist.

Trump and the Bolsonaros represent the past—the past of ideological cold war, blind obedience, and fear. Today's Brazil is one of defended Amazonia, social inclusion, and global leadership. No delusion of "invasion" or threat of "retaliation" will be able to erase that.

What the Bolsonaros call patriotism is, in reality, servility disguised as bravado. And what Trump calls leadership is nostalgia for an empire that no longer rules the world. 

Between the grotesque and the dangerous

The alleged “invasion of Guanabara Bay” may seem like a joke, but it is a symptom. A symptom of the political degradation of a far-right that, unable to win at the ballot box, resorts to scandal and threats. A symptom also of the mental dependence of an elite that still sees foreign influence as the source of its legitimacy.

Lula governs a country that is seeking to rediscover itself. Brazilian democracy, though attacked, has resisted. And that is precisely why it provokes so much hatred in its adversaries. Jair, Flávio, and Eduardo Bolsonaro, in courting Trump, reveal not only their lack of historical sense but also their fear of the future. A future in which Brazil speaks for itself—and not through another's voice.

While Trump attempts to rebuild the ruins of a declining empire, Brazil advances as a sovereign, pluralistic, and democratic nation. Guanabara Bay, a symbol of freedom and courage, will remain standing—and will never bow to any foreign armada, real or imagined. The time of the Pigs is over. The time belongs to the Brazilian people.