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      Brazil’s Lula Is Out of Prison and Trying to Defeat Bolsonaro

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      RIO DE JANEIRO — In 2019, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva was spending 23 hours a day in an isolated cell with a treadmill in a federal penitentiary.The former president of Brazil was sentenced to 22 years on corruption charges, a conviction that appeared to end the storied career of the man who had once been the lion of the Latin American left.Now, freed from prison, Mr. da Silva is on the brink of becoming Brazil’s president once again, an incredible political resurrection that at one time seemed unthinkable.On Sunday, Brazilians will vote for their next leader, with most choosing between President Jair Bolsonaro, 67, the right-wing nationalist incumbent, and Mr. da Silva, 76, a zealous leftist known simply as “Lula,” whose corruption convictions were annulled last year after Brazil’s Supreme Court ruled that the judge in his cases was biased.For more than a year, polls have shown Mr. da Silva with a commanding lead. Now a surge in his numbers suggest he could win outright on Sunday with more than 50 percent of the vote, avoiding a runoff with Mr. Bolsonaro.A victory would complete a remarkable journey for Mr. da Silva, whom former President Barack Obama once called “the most popular politician on Earth.” When he left office in 2011 after two terms, Mr. da Silva’s approval rating topped 80 percent. But then he became the centerpiece of a sprawling investigation into government bribes that led to nearly 300 arrests, landing him in prison and seemingly destined for obscurity.Mr. da Silva has taken to comparing himself to Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., political prisoners who expanded their movements after they were freed.Dado Galdieri for The New York TimesToday, the former union leader is back in the spotlight, this time poised to retake the wheel of Latin America’s largest nation, at 217 million people, with a mandate to undo Mr. Bolsonaro’s legacy.“How did they try to destroy Lula? I spent 580 days in jail because they didn’t want me to run,” Mr. da Silva told a crowd of supporters last week, his famously gravelly voice even hoarser with age and a grueling campaign. “And I stayed calm there, preparing myself like Mandela prepared for 27 years.”On the campaign trail, Mr. da Silva has taken to comparing himself to Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., political prisoners who expanded their movements after they were freed. “I am convinced the same thing will happen here in Brazil,” he said at a separate rally this month.Mr. da Silva’s return to the president’s office would cement his status as the most influential figure in Brazil’s modern democracy. A former metalworker with a fifth-grade education and the son of illiterate farm workers, he has been a political force for decades, leading a transformational shift in Brazilian politics away from conservative principles and toward leftist ideals and working-class interests.The leftist Workers’ Party he co-founded in 1980 has won four of the eight presidential elections since the end of Brazil’s military dictatorship in 1988, while finishing as the runner-up in the rest.As president from 2003 through 2010, Mr. da Silva’s administration helped lift 20 million Brazilians out of poverty, revitalized the nation’s oil industry and elevated Brazil on the world stage, including by hosting the World Cup and Summer Olympics.But it also allowed a vast kickback scheme to fester throughout the government, with many of his Workers’ Party allies convicted of accepting bribes. While the courts threw out Mr. da Silva’s two convictions of accepting a condo and renovations from construction companies bidding on government contracts, they did not affirm his innocence.Mr. da Silva has long maintained that the charges were false.Overall, Mr. da Silva’s campaign has been built around the promise he has been pitching for decades: He will make life better for Brazil’s poor. Dado Galdieri for The New York TimesIf Mr. da Silva wins the presidency, it will be in part thanks to an old-school campaign. He has toured the vast country holding in-person rallies. He has played it safe, skipping a debate last Saturday, offering few specifics in his proposals and declining most interview requests, including with The New York Times.And he has built a broad coalition, from communists to businessmen, selecting a former center-right governor as his running mate, Geraldo Alckmin, who had been his opponent in the 2006 presidential election.Mr. da Silva has also benefited from a matchup with a deeply unpopular incumbent. Polls show that about half of Brazilians say they would never support Mr. Bolsonaro, who has upset many voters with a torrent of false statements, destructive environmental policies, an embrace of unproven drugs over Covid-19 vaccines and harsh attacks against political rivals, journalists, judges and health professionals.On the campaign trail, Mr. Bolsonaro has called Mr. da Silva a crook and a communist, while Mr. da Silva describes the president as authoritarian and inhumane.If elected, Mr. da Silva would be the most significant example yet of Latin America’s recent shift to the left. Since 2018, leftists have ridden an anti-incumbent wave into office in Mexico, Colombia, Argentina, Chile and Peru.On the campaign trail, President Jair Bolsonaro has called Mr. da Silva a crook and a communist.Victor Moriyama for The New York TimesOverall, Mr. da Silva’s campaign has been built around the promise he has been pitching for decades: He will make life better for Brazil’s poor. The pandemic battered Brazil’s economy, with inflation reaching double digits and the number of people facing hunger doubling to 33 million. He has pledged to widen the safety net, increase the minimum wage, lower inflation, feed and house more people and create jobs through big new infrastructure projects.“He was the anti-poverty president, and that’s the legacy he wants to keep if he wins,” said Celso Rocha de Barros, a sociologist who wrote a book about the Workers’ Party.Yet, like most successful politicians, Mr. da Silva’s speeches are often short on details and long on promises. He frequently builds his rhetoric around a clash between “they,” the elites, and “we,” the people. He wears his working-class credentials on his left hand; he lost his pinkie at 19 in an auto-parts factory. And he carries his message with his Everyman image, complete with plenty of references to beer, cachaça and picanha, Brazil’s most famous cut of meat.“They think that the poor don’t have rights,” he told a crowd of supporters in one of São Paulo’s poorest neighborhoods last week. But he would fight for their rights, he said. “The right to barbecue with family on the weekend, to buy a little picanha, to that piece of picanha with the fat dipped in flour, and to a glass of cold beer,” he shouted to cheers.“He’s the candidate of the people, of the poor,” said Vivian Casentino, 44, a cook draped in the red of the Workers’ Party, at a rally this week in Rio de Janeiro. “He’s like us. He’s a fighter.”In his first stint as president, Mr. da Silva used a commodities boom to pay for his expansion of government. This time around, Brazil’s economy is in rougher shape, and he is proposing higher taxes on the rich to fund more benefits for the poor. Some voters are uneasy with his plans after his handpicked successor’s economic policies helped lead Brazil into a recession.While his political style has not changed in his sixth presidential campaign, he has tried to modernize his image. He has included more references to women, Black people, Indigenous groups and the environment in his speeches and proposals, and even promised to advocate for “organic salads.”Maria da Silva, 58, cries while showing the empty fridge at the abandoned house in which she lives with her family of eight in Ibimirim, Brazil, last month. She has no relation to Mr. da Silva.Carl De Souza/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesAt a recent meeting with social-media influencers, including the nation’s most popular YouTuber, a sharp-witted comedian and a rapper with face tattoos, Mr. da Silva urged them to counter suggestions that he was corrupt.“Globo spent five years calling me a thief,” he said, referring to Brazil’s biggest TV network. He said he wished the channel’s lead anchor would open the newscast one night by saying sorry. “Apologies are hard,” he added.Mr. da Silva has never fully acknowledged the role of his Workers’ Party in the government corruption scheme that persisted for much of the 13 years it was in power. The investigation, called Operation Carwash, revealed how companies paid hundreds of millions of dollars in bribes to government officials in exchange for public contracts.Mr. da Silva says that political enemies framed him to eliminate the Workers’ Party from Brazilian politics. He has also accused the U.S. government of helping to drive the investigation.The Carwash investigation was eventually engulfed in its own scandal, as it became clear that it had been used as a political tool. Prosecutors focused on the crimes of the Workers’ Party over other parties, and investigators leaked Mr. da Silva’s taped conversations. Sergio Moro, the federal judge overseeing the case, was later revealed to be colluding with prosecutors, while also acting as the sole arbiter in many of the trials.Mr. da Silva after being released from prison in 2019.Rodolfo Buhrer/ReutersIn 2019, Mr. da Silva was released from prison after the Supreme Court ruled he could be free while pursuing appeals. Then, last year, the Supreme Court threw out his convictions, ruling that they were tried in the wrong court and that Mr. Moro was biased.Mr. da Silva is carried by a cult of personality, built over more than four decades in the public eye, and he is far more popular than the political party he built. Creomar de Souza, a Brazilian political analyst, said immature democracies can often revolve around a single personality rather than a movement or set of ideas. “Some young democracies struggle to take a step forward,” he said. “An individual becomes a crucial part of the game.”At a rally for Mr. da Silva in Rio this week, Vinicius Rodrigues, 28, a history student, was handing out fliers for a communist party. “We support Lula specifically,” he said, but not the Workers’ Party.Nearby, Luiz Claudio Costa, 55, was selling “I’m with Lula” headbands for 50 cents. He had always voted for Mr. da Silva, but in 2018, he chose Mr. Bolsonaro. “I got it wrong,” he said. “We need Lula back.”Mr. da Silva is carried by a cult of personality, built over more than four decades in the public eye.Dado Galdieri for The New York Times More

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      A New Generation of Voters Will Test Angola’s Longtime Governing Party

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      The election may not change the country’s government, but the contest reflects the growing discontent of young voters, many of whom are unemployed.LUANDA, Angola — A new generation of Angolans, many disillusioned with their country’s political system and corruption, will vote for the first time on Wednesday, posing a challenge to a governing party that has traditionally presented its continued dominance as a stable alternative to the country’s bloody past.The Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola, a liberation army turned political party, is expected to win — as it has in four previous elections. But while the result is unlikely to be a surprise, analysts will be watching the margin closely for signs about the country’s political future. Across southern Africa, historic political movements are falling out of favor among younger urban voters for whom economic obstacles are beginning to outweigh nostalgic rhetoric. In Angola’s capital, Luanda, where streets are named for war heroes, the youths are largely unemployed, as is more than 30 percent of the population.Half the voters in the country are under 35. Those who do find jobs in Angola, Africa’s second-largest oil producer, work mostly in the informal sector, often as food vendors or motorcycle drivers.This generation, disaffected by the governing party, is more willing to speak out.“This will be my first time voting, and I can tell you, I’ve made up my mind really easily,” said Carlos Quitembe, 22, holding up three fingers, a gesture referring to the opposition party’s position on the ballot.Supporters of the Angolan opposition party the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola, or UNITA.John Wessels/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesThe main opposition party, the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola, or UNITA, was the wartime foe of the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola, or MPLA. The two parties were born as guerrilla movements that drove out Portuguese colonists in 1975 but turned on each other in a bitter civil war that ended in 2002.UNITA has tried to rebrand itself as a party for urban voters. For the first time, it is led not by a former guerrilla fighter, but by a charismatic former exile, Adalberto Costa Júnior, who returned from Europe and used social media to build his base. Mr. Costa has joined forces with civil society groups, smaller opposition movements and disgruntled members of the governing party on an anticorruption ticket.The opposition has fielded candidates “representing an open mind to build the future, not a partisan proposal but solutions for the big problems Angola has now,” Mr. Costa said in an interview. That coalition, he said, is held together by the need to overhaul the electoral system that favors the dominant party.In Angola’s electoral system, voters cast a single ballot to select their party of choice for provincial and national seats. Card-carrying members of the party decide the list of candidates, and the leader of the winning party becomes president of the country.UNITA’s leader, Adalberto Costa Júnior, joined a coalition on an anticorruption ticket.Paulo Novais/EPA, via ShutterstockPresident João Lourenço is seeking a second term, asking for more time to make good on his 2017 election promises to fight corruption and build the economy. A former guerrilla fighter who later became defense minister, Mr. Lourenço was handpicked by the longtime President José Eduardo dos Santos as his successor. Once in power, Mr. Lourenço turned on Mr. dos Santos, blaming his administration for Angola’s economic malaise. He prosecuted one of Mr. dos Santos’s children for corruption and tried to charge another.But as the economy stagnated, this tactic began to backfire, as people directed their anger at Mr. Lourenço, dismissing his anticorruption efforts as factional fighting instead of real reform. Mr. Lourenço’s party has also leaned on nostalgia for its glory years as a liberation movement, analysts said. After Mr. dos Santos died last month, a fight ensued between some of his adult children and his widow, backed by the government, over where to bury his body.Mr. Lourenço’s office did not respond to numerous requests for comment.His party, which has been in power since 1975, controls the state and its budget. State media spotlights the governing party, while the constitutional court is packed with pro-MPLA justices. This is why Angola’s election is unlikely to be free or fair, said Borges Nhamirre, a consultant with the Institute of Security Studies, headquartered in South Africa.Angolans mourning the death of former President José Eduardo dos Santos in Luanda last week.Paulo Novais/EPA, via ShutterstockA June poll by the Mudei Civic Movement, a citizen-based election monitoring group, found the MPLA trailing by 19 percentage points behind the opposition coalition, while an earlier poll by the continental research group Afrobarometer showed the MPLA winning by its lowest margin yet.In response, a state-owned broadcaster conducted its own poll, which showed the governing party far ahead of its rival. In May, the MPLA majority in Parliament passed a law restricting polling, forcing polling agencies to pay large sums of money as purported assurance of their legitimacy. The voters’ roll is also packed with the names of dead people, opposition groups and civil society groups say. “My brother and I were shocked to find out that our father, who died nine years ago, is registered to vote,” said Adérito Malungo, who plans to vote in Luanda.Any demonstrations in the face of these irregularities are likely to face a bloody crackdown, according to scenarios mapped out by security analysts, as the military and the police are firmly controlled by MPLA loyalists. Results will begin trickling in within the first 24 hours after the vote, but it is unclear when the final tally will be announced.Unlike in previous years, Angolans in the capital seem more willing to talk about their political choices ahead of the election. On a weekday afternoon in Luanda, Mr. Quitembe and two friends — all preparing to vote for the first time, all unemployed and all under the age of 30 — discussed their options.“Right now, I would rather have been working if someone had kept his promise to create 500,000 jobs for the youth,” said Martins Lourenço, 21, referring to the president’s 2017 election promise.The port of Luanda. Angola’s state oil company has been plagued by years of mismanagement, analysts say.John Wessels/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesBut the president maintained some support.“Things are pretty bad right now and I know it, but I think we should give the benefit of the doubt and keep JLo,” said Arminda Kisanga, 28, using the president’s nickname. “These weren’t easy years for him up there.”Mr. Quitembe scoffed at the party’s promises of reform. “Do you truly believe these guys stopped looting our money?” he asked, laughing. “They only changed some people; it’s all the same.”Angola’s economy has dipped in and out of recession since Mr. Lourenço took over the reins of the party in 2017 and then the country a year later. Under Mr. dos Santos, Angola experienced a postwar boom propelled by oil and diamond exports. The country went on an infrastructure-construction spree, building megaprojects like a new Parliament, often with loans from Chinese banks. As new skyscrapers appeared on Luanda’s skyline, slums around the city grew, creating an economically unequal society where the vast majority of the population lived below the poverty line.The vast majority of Angola’s population lived below the poverty line.John Wessels/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesLast year, Angola’s public debt was 110 percent of its gross domestic product, said Francisco Paulo, a Luanda-based economist. Years of mismanaging the state oil company meant that Angola missed out on the profits other oil producers reaped after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Mr. Paulo said. Recently built roads and bridges have fallen into decay, driving up the cost of goods, as transportation has become more expensive, particularly in rural areas. Mr. Lourenço’s previous election promises to root out corruption and overhaul the economy have not been fulfilled.“In terms of the economic outlook, there is no reason for people to vote for the M.P.L.A. again,” Mr. Paulo said.But many have benefited from the party.Nova Cidade de Kilamba, a housing project just outside Luanda, was once a feather in the government’s cap. In the decade since it opened, the project has fallen into decay.Still, some like Maura Gouveia, a 26-year-old engineering student and a resident of the project, said she trusted the stability of the party.“I vote for continuity,” she said.Experts say that Angola’s election is unlikely to be free or fair.John Wessels/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images More

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      In Kenya’s Elections, Young Voters Aren’t Turning Out, and Who Can Blame Them?

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      NAIROBI, Kenya — It was a sight to behold. Scores of young people, excited and expectant, gathered in Nairobi, chanting slogans and waving banners. But it was no entertainment: They were there for a campaign rally. In the months leading up to Kenya’s elections on Tuesday, the scene was repeated across the country. Here, it seemed, were the future custodians of the country taking a lively interest in the political process.But appearances can be deceptive. Some, it turned out, attended only on the promise of payment; others were paid to gather crowds from nearby. The actual enthusiasm of the country’s young, in contrast to the contrived air of engagement, is rather cooler. While those age 18 to 35 make up 75 percent of the population, only about 40 percent of people from that cohort have registered to vote.For some, this lackluster showing was evidence of worrisome apathy among the country’s youth. And sure enough, the early signs from Tuesday’s vote, where turnout across the board was low, at around 60 percent, suggest that the young stayed home in large numbers. But the charge of apathy misses the point. For many young Kenyans, refusing to vote is not a result of disinterest or indifference or even ignorance. It is instead — as Mumbi Kanyago, a 26-year-old communications consultant, told me — a “political choice.”You can see why. The two leading candidates in Kenya’s election, William Ruto and Raila Odinga, who are neck and neck in the early count, are both established members of the political class. They sit at the apex of a system that has failed to counter endemic youth unemployment, skyrocketing debt and a rising cost of living. In the eyes of many young people, expecting change from such stalwarts of the status quo is a fool’s errand. If the choice is a false one, they reason, better to refuse it altogether than collude in a fiction.On the surface, the two candidates seem pretty different. Mr. Ruto has branded himself a “hustler,” sharing stories about how he sold chicken by the roadside before his rise through the ranks to businessman and political leader — a back story that has earned him support from members of the working class, despite allegations of corruption. Mr. Odinga, by contrast, is political royalty. This is his fifth attempt to win the presidency, and his years of experience and exposure have earned him a kind of star power few can match.But the differences obscure the underlying similarities. Mr. Ruto, the newer candidate, has been deputy president for nearly a decade. Mr. Odinga is not only the country’s most famous opposition leader but has also been backed by the current president. Both candidates profess — often when animatedly addressing crowds — to care deeply about the electorate and its troubles. Yet in the eyes of many young voters, both belong to the same flawed system. They have no faith that either could seriously change things for the better.With good reason. In the dozens of conversations I had with young Kenyans, one refrain kept coming up: Politicians are out for themselves, not the country. In their view, self-interest and financial advancement are why politicians seek office. There’s something to it, certainly. The country regularly ranks poorly in corruption scores, and the two leading parties have members accused of graft and corruption in their ranks. The candidates like to talk about tackling corruption: Mr. Ruto has said he would deal with the problem “firmly and decisively,” and Mr. Odinga has branded corruption one of the “four enemies” of the country. But given their tolerance of dubious behavior, these promises fall flat.Kenya can ill afford such self-serving leadership. Parts of the country are experiencing what the United Nations has described as “the worst drought in 40 years” in the Horn of Africa, with some 4.1 million people in Kenya suffering from severe food insecurity. The cost of food and fuel, thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, has risen sharply. If that were not bad enough, the country — in part because of the government’s borrowing spree over the past decade — is heavily laden with debt, and inflation is at a five-year high. But in response to this troubling situation, the candidates have offered little more than bickering and bragging.In the absence of substantial policy, there could at least be symbolic representation of the young. But there too things are lacking. In 2017, Kenyans age 18 to 34 made up roughly 24 percent of all candidates. Less than a tenth of them won office, under 3 percent of the total. With such a tiny number of young people making the cut in electoral politics, who could blame the young, without representation or recourse to a more responsive state, for turning away?Still, young people in the country have found other ways to engage in political work — in community projects, mutual aid programs and social centers. One example is the Mathare Social Justice Center in Nairobi, which aims to promote social justice for the community living in Mathare, an area historically subject to police brutality, extrajudicial killings and land grabs.In this way, Kenyans are in step with other developments on the continent, where young people have sought alternative means to make their voices heard. For instance, young Sudanese have been bravely organizing and leading protests since October last year, demanding a return to civilian rule. In Nigeria, the young are at the forefront of a movement against police brutality that erupted with the enormous #EndSARS protests in 2020. And young people in Guinea played a huge part in the 2019-20 mass protests against the president’s attempt to run for a third term.Of course, the right to vote and participate in elections is a hard-won privilege, which many around the world are denied. But demanding that people vote, no matter how limited the candidates, is akin to exhorting people to joyously crown their oppressors. Citizens, after all, have the right to choose. And democracy does not begin and end at the ballot box.Samira Sawlani (@samirasawlani) is a freelance journalist and a columnist at The Continent.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      Bolsonaro teme ir a la cárcel. Y con razón

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      SÃO PAULO — “Quiero que esos sinvergüenzas lo sepan”, dijo el presidente de Brasil, Jair Bolsonaro, a sus seguidores el año pasado. “¡Nunca iré preso!”.Estaba gritando. Pero Bolsonaro tiende a exaltarse cuando habla de la posibilidad de ir a prisión. “Por Dios que está en el cielo”, declaró ante un grupo de empresarios en mayo, “nunca me arrestarán”. Como pasa “más de la mitad” de su tiempo lidiando con demandas, seguramente se siente con suficientes recursos para evitar una detención. Pero este desafío suena desesperado. El destino de la expresidenta de Bolivia Jeanine Añez, quien hace poco fue sentenciada a prisión, presuntamente por haber orquestado un golpe de Estado, se percibe con fuerza en el aire.Para Bolsonaro, es una advertencia. De cara a las elecciones presidenciales de octubre, que según todas las proyecciones perderá, Bolsonaro está visiblemente preocupado de también ser arrestado por, como trató de minimizarlo sin dar más detalles, “actos antidemocráticos”. Ese temor explica sus intentos desesperados por desacreditar las elecciones antes de que se lleven a cabo; por ejemplo, al reunir a decenas de diplomáticos extranjeros para deslegitimar el sistema de votación electrónica del país.Sin embargo, sin importar cuán absurdo sea su comportamiento —y no hay duda de que obligar a los embajadores a escuchar su diatriba descabellada durante 47 minutos es delirante— el motivo de fondo sigue teniendo sentido. Porque, a decir verdad, Bolsonaro tiene bastantes razones para temer ir a prisión. De hecho, cada vez es más difícil seguir la pista a todas las acusaciones contra el presidente y su gobierno.Para empezar, está el asunto no menor de la investigación del Supremo Tribunal Federal de Brasil sobre los aliados de Bolsonaro debido a su participación en una especie de “grupo paramilitar digital” que inunda las redes sociales con desinformación y coordina campañas de desprestigio en contra de sus opositores políticos. En una investigación relacionada, el propio Bolsonaro está siendo investigado por su “participación directa y relevante” en la promoción de desinformación, según describe el informe de la Policía Federal.No obstante, los delitos de Bolsonaro distan de limitarse al mundo digital. Los escándalos de corrupción han definido su mandato y la podredumbre comienza en casa. Dos de sus hijos, que también son servidores públicos, han sido acusados por fiscales estatales de robar fondos públicos de manera sistemática al embolsarse parte de los salarios de asociados cercanos y empleados inexistentes en sus nóminas. Acusaciones similares, relacionadas con su periodo como legislador, se han esgrimido contra el propio presidente. En marzo, fue acusado de improbidad administrativa por mantener a un empleado inexistente como su asesor en el Congreso durante 15 años (el presunto asesor en realidad era un vendedor de açaí).Las acusaciones de corrupción también giran en torno a altos mandos del gobierno. En junio, el exministro de Educación de Brasil, Milton Ribeiro, fue arrestado por delitos de tráfico de influencias. Bolsonaro, a quien Ribeiro mencionó por su nombre en grabaciones comprometedoras de audio, salió de inmediato en defensa del ministro. “Pondría la cara al fuego por Milton”, declaró el presidente antes del arresto y poco después explicó que solo pondría una mano al fuego. Contra toda las pruebas disponibles, sostiene que no hay “corrupción endémica” en su gobierno.Además, está el informe nada favorecedor de la comisión especial del Senado sobre la respuesta de Brasil a la COVID-19, que describe cómo el presidente contribuyó a la propagación del virus y puede considerársele responsable de hasta 679.000 muertes en Brasil. El informe recomienda que a Bolsonaro se le imputen nueve delitos, incluida la malversación de fondos públicos, la violación de derechos sociales, así como delitos de lesa humanidad.¿Cómo responde el presidente a este pliego de cargos que se acumulan? Con órdenes para reservar la información. Estas órdenes, que ocultan las pruebas durante un siglo, se han aplicado a todo tipo de información “sensible”: los gastos detallados de la tarjeta de crédito corporativa de Bolsonaro; el proceso disciplinario del ejército que absolvió a un general y al exministro de Salud por haber participado en una manifestación a favor de Bolsonaro, y los informes de los fiscales sobre la investigación por corrupción en contra de su hijo mayor. Esto dista mucho del hombre que, al principio de su mandato, se jactó de que traería consigo “¡transparencia antes que nada!”.Si las órdenes para reservar la información no funcionan, queda la obstrucción de la justicia. Bolsonaro ha sido acusado con frecuencia de tratar de obtener información privilegiada de las investigaciones o de impedirlas por completo. En el ejemplo más conocido, el presidente fue acusado por su propio exministro de Justicia de interferir con la independencia de la Policía Federal. Es una acusación creíble. Después de todo, en una grabación filtrada de una reunión ministerial de hace dos años, se captó a Bolsonaro diciendo que no iba a quedarse “sentado viendo cómo joden a mi familia o a mis amigos”, cuando todo lo que tenía que hacer era sustituir a las autoridades encargadas de la procuración de justicia.Pero para ejercer ese poder necesita seguir en el cargo. Con eso en mente, Bolsonaro ha estado repartiendo altos cargos en el gobierno y usando una reserva de fondos, conocida como “el presupuesto secreto” por su falta de transparencia, a fin de asegurarse de contar con el apoyo de los legisladores de centro. Dada la fuerza que han cobrado las demandas de destitución —desde diciembre de 2021 se han presentado más de 130 solicitudes en su contra— necesita todo el apoyo que pueda reunir. La estrategia es bien conocida: Bolsonaro confesó haber hecho ambas cosas para “calmar al Congreso”. Niega que el presupuesto sea secreto, a pesar de que quienes solicitan fondos de él permanecen en el anonimato.Sin embargo, el mayor reto es ganarse al electorado. En este caso, Bolsonaro recurre de nuevo a triquiñuelas y soluciones alternativas. En julio, el Congreso aprobó una reforma constitucional —que el ministro de Economía apodó el “proyecto de ley kamikaze”— que le otorga al gobierno el derecho a gastar 7600 millones de dólares adicionales en pagos de asistencia social y otras prestaciones hasta el 31 de diciembre. Si suena como un intento descarado de conseguir apoyos en todo el país es porque lo es.Nadie sabe si esto ayudará a la causa del presidente. Pero las señales que envía son inconfundibles: Bolsonaro está desesperado por evitar la derrota. Y tiene muchas razones para querer evitarla.Vanessa Barbara es editora del sitio web literario A Hortaliça, autora de dos novelas y dos libros de no ficción en portugués y colaboradora de la sección de Opinión del Times. More

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      Bolsonaro tem medo de ser preso, e com razão

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      SÃO PAULO, Brasil — “Quero dizer aos canalhas,” o presidente Jair Bolsonaro falou a apoiadores no ano passado, “que eu nunca serei preso!”Ele estava gritando. É que Bolsonaro tende a ficar exaltado quando fala sobre a perspectiva de detenção. “Por Deus que está no céu, eu nunca serei preso,” ele declarou a uma plateia de empresários em maio. Como ele passa “mais da metade” do seu tempo lidando com processos, certamente se sente bem preparado para essa possibilidade. Mas há desespero em sua fala. O destino da ex-presidente boliviana Jeanine Añez, que foi recentemente condenada à prisão sob a alegação de orquestrar um golpe, paira pesadamente no ar.Para Bolsonaro, o caso serve de alerta. A poucos meses das eleições presidenciais em outubro, que ele se encaminha para perder, Bolsonaro está claramente preocupado em também ser preso por exercer “atos antidemocráticos,” como ele mesmo diz, usando um eufemismo pouco característico. Esse temor explica suas tentativas enérgicas de desacreditar a eleição antes mesmo que ela ocorra — por exemplo, quando ele decide reunir dezenas de diplomatas estrangeiros para enxovalhar o sistema eletrônico de votação do nosso país.E ainda assim, por mais que esse comportamento seja absurdo — e forçar os embaixadores a presenciar uma diatribe de 47 minutos certamente está na ponta bizarra do espectro — a justificativa por trás disso faz perfeito sentido. Pois a verdade é que Bolsonaro tem motivos suficientes para temer a prisão. De fato, está cada vez mais difícil acompanhar todas as acusações contra o presidente e seu governo.Para começar, temos a mísera questão de que vários aliados de Bolsonaro estão sendo investigados no Supremo Tribunal Federal por participar de uma espécie de “milícia digital” que inunda as redes sociais com desinformação e coordena campanhas de difamação contra seus oponentes políticos. Em um inquérito relacionado, o próprio Bolsonaro está sendo investigado por sua “atuação direta e relevante” em promover a desinformação, nas palavras de um relatório da Polícia Federal.Os delitos de Bolsonaro, porém, não se limitam à esfera digital. Escândalos de corrupção definiram sua administração, sendo que o estrago começa em casa. Dois de seus filhos, que também detêm cargos públicos, foram acusados por procuradores estaduais de Justiça pelo roubo sistemático de verbas públicas ao embolsar parte dos salários de aliados e de funcionários-fantasmas que constavam de suas folhas de pagamento. Acusações similares foram feitas ao próprio presidente, em relação a seu período como deputado federal. Em março, ele foi indiciado por improbidade administrativa por manter uma funcionária-fantasma como sua secretária parlamentar por 15 anos. (A suposta assessora era, na verdade, uma vendedora de açaí.)Acusações de corrupção também rodeiam membros de alto escalão do governo. Em junho, o ex-ministro da educação Milton Ribeiro foi preso sob a suspeita de tráfico de influência. Bolsonaro, que é citado nominalmente por Ribeiro em áudios comprometedores, foi firme em sua defesa do ex-ministro. “Eu boto minha cara no fogo pelo Milton,” disse o presidente antes da prisão, explicando mais tarde que apenas colocaria a mão no fogo. Ele sustenta, contra todas as evidências disponíveis, que não há “corrupção endêmica” em seu governo.E também há o incriminador relatório final da Comissão Parlamentar de Inquérito sobre a resposta do governo à Covid-19, que descreve como o presidente ajudou ativamente a disseminar o vírus e pode ser responsabilizado por muitas das 679 mil mortes pela doença no Brasil. O relatório recomenda que Bolsonaro seja indiciado por nove crimes, incluindo emprego irregular de verbas públicas, violação de direitos sociais e crimes contra a humanidade.Como o presidente responde a essa vertiginosa folha de acusações? Com ordens de sigilo. Esses decretos, que ocultam evidências por um século, foram aplicados a todo tipo de informação “sensível”: as despesas detalhadas do cartão corporativo de Bolsonaro, o processo disciplinar do Exército que inocentou um general e ex-ministro da Saúde por ter participado de uma manifestação pró-Bolsonaro, e relatórios fiscais da investigação de corrupção sobre seu filho mais velho. Um tremendo contraste com aquele homem que, no início de sua gestão, gabou-se de que iria promover “transparência acima de tudo!”.Se o sigilo não funciona, temos a obstrução. Bolsonaro tem sido frequentemente acusado de tentar obter informações privilegiadas das investigações, ou mesmo de obstruí-las por completo. No caso mais notório, o presidente foi acusado por seu próprio ex-ministro da Justiça de interferir com a independência da Polícia Federal. É uma acusação bem convincente. Afinal, em uma gravação vazada de um encontro ministerial de dois anos atrás, Bolsonaro foi pego dizendo que não iria esperar prejudicarem “a minha família toda,” ou amigos, quando ele podia muito bem substituir os agentes de segurança.Para exercitar esse poder, contudo, ele precisa se manter no cargo. Com isso em mente, Bolsonaro tem distribuído cargos de comando no governo e usado um conjunto de verbas, apelidado de “orçamento secreto” por sua falta de transparência, a fim de garantir o apoio de congressistas de centro. Considerando a força dos pedidos de impeachment contra ele — em dezembro de 2021, mais de 130 pedidos haviam sido protocolados — um banco de apoio é crucial. A estratégia não é um segredo: Bolsonaro confessou que fazia ambas as coisas para “acalmar o Parlamento.” Ele nega que o orçamento seja secreto, apesar de os relatores dos pedidos das verbas permanecerem anônimos.Mas o maior desafio é ganhar o eleitorado. E aqui, mais uma vez, Bolsonaro recorre a truques e gambiarras. Em julho, o Congresso aprovou uma emenda constitucional — apelidada de “PEC Kamikaze” pelo ministro da Economia — que dá ao governo o direito de gastar mais de 7,6 bilhões de dólares (41 bilhões de reais) extras em auxílios sociais e outros benefícios até 31 de dezembro. Se parece uma tentativa descarada de incitar o apoio da população, é porque é mesmo.Se isso vai ajudar o presidente, ninguém sabe. Mas o sinal enviado é inconfundível: Bolsonaro está desesperado para evitar a derrota. E tem todos os motivos para isso.Vanessa Barbara é a editora do sítio literário A Hortaliça, autora de dois romances e dois livros de não-ficção em português, e escritora de opinião do The New York Times. More

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      Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro Is Afraid of Going to Jail, and He’s Right to Be

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      SÃO PAULO, Brazil — “I’m letting the scoundrels know,” President Jair Bolsonaro told supporters last year, “I’ll never be imprisoned!”He was shouting. But then, Mr. Bolsonaro tends to become animated when talking about the prospect of prison. “By God above,” he declared to an audience of businesspeople in May, “I’ll never be arrested.” As he spends “more than half” of his time dealing with lawsuits, he surely feels well armed against arrest. But there’s desperation in his defiance. The fate of the former Bolivian President Jeanine Áñez, who was recently sentenced to prison for allegedly orchestrating a coup, hangs heavy in the air.For Mr. Bolsonaro, it’s a cautionary tale. Ahead of presidential elections in October, which he’s on course to lose, Mr. Bolsonaro is plainly worried he too may be arrested for, as he put it with uncharacteristic understatement, “antidemocratic actions.” That fear explains his energetic attempts to discredit the election before it happens — such as, for example, gathering dozens of foreign diplomats to fulminate against the country’s electronic voting system.Yet however absurd the behavior — and forcing ambassadors to sit through a crazed 47-minute diatribe is certainly on the wacky end of the spectrum — the underlying motive makes perfect sense. Because the truth is that Mr. Bolsonaro has plenty of reasons to fear prison. In fact, it’s getting hard to keep track of all the charges against the president and his government.To start with, there’s the small matter of a Supreme Court investigation into Mr. Bolsonaro’s allies for participating in a kind of “digital militia” that floods social media with disinformation and coordinates smear campaigns against political opponents. In a related inquiry, Mr. Bolsonaro himself is being investigated for, in the words of a Federal Police report, his “direct and relevant role” in promoting disinformation.Yet Mr. Bolsonaro’s wrongdoing is hardly confined to the digital world. Corruption scandals have defined his tenure, and the rot starts at home. Two of his sons, who also hold public offices, have been accused by state prosecutors of systematically stealing public funds by pocketing part of the salaries of close associates and ghost employees on their payrolls. Similar accusations, concerning his period as a lawmaker, have been directed at the president himself. In March, he was charged with administrative improbity for keeping a ghost employee as his congressional aide for 15 years. (The supposed aide was actually an açaí seller.)Charges of corruption also surround high-ranking members of the government. In June, Brazil’s former education minister, Milton Ribeiro, was arrested on charges of influence peddling. Mr. Bolsonaro, who is mentioned by name by Mr. Ribeiro in compromising audio clips, was steadfast in his defense of the minister. “I would put my face in the fire for Milton,” the president said before the arrest, later explaining that he would only put his hand in the fire. He maintains, against all available evidence, there is no “endemic corruption” in his government.Then there’s the damning report by the special Senate committee on Brazil’s Covid-19 response, which describes how the president actively helped to spread the virus and can be held responsible for many of Brazil’s 679,000 deaths. It recommends that Mr. Bolsonaro be charged with nine crimes, including misuse of public funds, violation of social rights and crimes against humanity.How does the president respond to this swirling charge sheet? With secrecy orders. These injunctions, concealing evidence for a century, have been applied to all manner of “sensitive” information: the detailed expenses of Mr. Bolsonaro’s corporate credit card; the army’s disciplinary process that acquitted a general and former health minister for having participated in a pro-Bolsonaro demonstration; and fiscal reports from the corruption investigation targeting his eldest son. This is a far cry from the man who, early in his tenure, bragged of bringing “transparency above all else!”If secrecy doesn’t work, there’s obstruction. Mr. Bolsonaro has frequently been accused of trying to obtain privileged information from investigations, or to stymie them altogether. In the most notorious instance, the president was accused by his own former minister of justice of interfering with the independence of the Federal Police. It’s a credible charge. After all, in a leaked recording of a ministerial meeting two years ago, Mr. Bolsonaro was caught saying that he wasn’t going to “wait to see my family or my friends get screwed” when he could just as well replace law enforcement officials.To exercise that power, though, he needs to keep his job. With that in mind, Mr. Bolsonaro has been handing out top government jobs and using a pot of funds, called a “secret budget” for its lack of transparency, to guarantee the support of centrist lawmakers. Given the strength of calls for impeachment — as of December 2021, over 130 requests had been filed against him — a bank of support is crucial. The strategy is no secret: Mr. Bolsonaro confessed to doing both in order to “placate Congress.” He denies that the budget is secret, despite the fact that those who request funds from it remain anonymous.But the bigger challenge is winning over the electorate. There, again, Mr. Bolsonaro is resorting to tricks and workarounds. In July, Congress passed a constitutional amendment — nicknamed the “kamikaze bill” by the minister of the economy — that grants the government the right to spend an extra $7.6 billion on welfare payments and other benefits until Dec. 31. If it sounds like a shameless attempt to gin up support across the country, that’s because it is.Whether it will help the president’s cause, who knows. But the signal it sends is unmistakable: Mr. Bolsonaro is desperate to avoid defeat. And he has every reason to be.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      United Auto Workers Seek to Shed a Legacy of Corruption

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      After his predecessors’ imprisonment, the union’s president is being challenged for re-election in the first direct vote by its membership.DETROIT — For the United Auto Workers, the last five years have been one of the most troubling chapters in the union’s storied history.A federal investigation found widespread corruption, with a dozen senior officials, including two former presidents, convicted of embezzling more than $1 million in union funds for luxury travel and other lavish personal expenses. Since last year, the union has been under the scrutiny of a court-appointed monitor charged with ensuring that anticorruption reforms are carried out.The scandal tarnished a once-powerful organization and left many of its 400,000 active members angry and disillusioned.“You bet I’m mad,” said Bill Bagwell, who has been in the U.A.W. for 37 years and works at a General Motors parts warehouse in Ypsilanti, Mich., represented by Local 174. “That was our money, the workers’ money. I don’t like people stealing our money.”Now U.A.W. members have a chance to determine how much of a break from that past they want to make. In one of the changes prompted by the corruption scandal, the union this year will choose its leaders through a direct election — its first. Until now, the president and other senior officials were chosen by delegates to a convention, a system in which the union’s executive board could shape the outcome through favors and favoritism, and the results did not always reflect the views of the rank and file.“Everyone in power is in one party, and it’s been like that forever,” said William Parker, a retired worker who is eligible to vote and hopes to see a new slate of officers take over. “But now we’ve got one man, one vote, and we are mobilizing to change.”Over four days last week, at a sometimes-chaotic convention in Detroit, some 900 delegates debated a wide range of issues facing the union. Four members were nominated to challenge the incumbent president, Ray Curry, in the fall election. Under rules approved by the delegates, the union’s nearly 600,000 retirees can vote but cannot run for executive offices. If no candidate wins at least 50 percent of the vote, the top two will vie in a runoff.The convention proceedings dragged out each day as members stepped to microphones to offer motions, objections and requests for clarifications. A day after voting to increase stipends for striking workers to $500 a week from $400, they rescinded the move. At least three times Mr. Curry was scheduled to give a state-of-the-union address only to have the extended debates force postponements, and the convention adjourned without his address.Mr. Curry is seen as a strong favorite for re-election. He has held senior posts for more than a decade and became president in 2021 in the fallout from the corruption scandal. One potentially serious challenger is Shawn Fain, an electrician who has been a U.A.W. member for 28 years and holds a post with the union’s headquarters staff. He is part of a slate of candidates for senior posts, and is backed by a dissident group, Unite All Workers for Democracy, which has raised tens of thousands of dollars for the election campaign.Shawn Fain, a U.A.W. member for 28 years, is a potentially serious challenger for the union presidency.Sarah Rice for The New York Times“Members have to believe in the leadership and believe that the corruption is behind us,” Mr. Fain said.The other candidates are Brian Keller, a quality worker at Stellantis who for years has run a Facebook group critical of the union’s leadership; Will Lehman, a worker at a Mack Truck plant in Pennsylvania; and Mark Gibson, a chairman at Local 163 in Westland, Mich. Read More on Organized Labor in the U.S.Apple: Employees at a Baltimore-area Apple store voted to unionize, making it the first of the company’s 270-plus U.S. stores to do so. The result provides a foothold for a budding movement among Apple retail employees.Starbucks: When a Rhodes scholar joined Starbucks in 2020, none of the company’s 9,000 U.S. locations had a union. She hoped to change that by helping to unionize its stores in Buffalo. Improbably, she and her co-workers have far exceeded their goal.Amazon: A little-known independent union scored a stunning victory at an Amazon warehouse on Staten Island. But unlike at Starbucks, where organizing efforts spread in a matter of weeks, unionizing workers at Amazon has been a longer, messier slog.A Shrinking Movement: Although high-profile unionization efforts have dominated headlines recently, union membership has seen a decades-long decline in the United States.The challengers and Mr. Curry agree on most of the key issues at stake in next year’s contract negotiations. Members want automakers to resume cost-of-living wage adjustments, once a key element of U.A.W. contracts, and eliminate compensation differences between newer and more senior workers. Workers hired in 2007 or earlier earn the full U.A.W. wage of about $32 an hour and are guaranteed pensions. Workers hired after 2007 have started at lower wages and can work up to the top wage over five years. They get a 401(k) retirement account instead of a pension.Dorian Fenderson, a U.A.W. member at a G.M. location in Warren, Mich., started a year ago as a temporary worker at $17 an hour and after four months was made a permanent hire, making $22 an hour.“There are people making $34 doing the same work as me,” he said. “I know they’ve been here a long time, but it’s not really fair to people like me.”The opposition candidates have called for the U.A.W. to take a more confrontational line in contract negotiations to win back concessions now that the manufacturers are solidly profitable, and to push them to keep more production in the United States and use more union labor. G.M. is building four battery plants in a joint venture, and Ford Motor is building three with its own partner. The union will have an opportunity to organize those plants, but success is not guaranteed.“We are hemorrhaging jobs, and that has to stop,” Mr. Fain said.Mr. Curry said he was confident that battery plants would be organized and that the workers would be covered by U.A.W. contracts with the automakers. He said similar joint ventures had been represented by the union in the past, and noted that current contracts assign engine production to the U.A.W.“Our belief is that batteries are the powertrains of electric vehicles,” he said in an interview. “It’s just new technology. We have a right to negotiate that and establish those locations.”One potential weakness for Mr. Curry could be recent actions that have riled some members. He and members of his executive board recently increased pay and pensions for themselves and others working at the union’s headquarters. A vice president who is running for re-election spent $95,000 in union funds on backpacks that were embroidered with his name and were to be given to members at union gatherings, a move that could be seen as using union money for his campaign.In a July report, the court-appointed monitor, Neil Barofsky, wrote that he had 19 open investigations into possible improprieties, and said Mr. Curry’s leadership group had been uncooperative at times. Mr. Barofsky, a lawyer at a New York firm, wrote that the union’s leaders had uncovered mishandling of union funds by a senior official but that they had concealed the matter, though he added that cooperation and transparency had improved in recent months.Mr. Curry said that once he learned of the communications issues with the monitor, he stepped in and addressed the matter.“You have to read report to the end, and at the end the monitor talks about true transparency, response time, and change in counsel, the steps we have taken to shows we are moving in a positive direction,” he said. “And I’ve asked the monitor, if he has issues, to come directly to me so I don’t read about it in a report four months later.”Mr. Barofsky declined to comment beyond the findings in his report.Decades ago, the U.A.W. was a powerful organization that could influence presidential elections and consistently won increases in wages and benefits, often through hard-nosed negotiating and strikes. Its contracts with G.M., Ford and Chrysler set standards that helped pull up pay and benefits for working classes all around the country, union and nonunion alike.Mr. Fain’s grandfather kept his first Chrysler pay stub from 1937. For decades, the U.A.W.’s contracts with automakers set the standards for pay and benefits for the working class.Sarah Rice for The New York TimesBut its fortunes waned as the Detroit automakers steadily reduced their U.S. operations and struggled to compete as Toyota, Honda, Nissan and other foreign automakers built nonunion plants across the South. The 2009 bankruptcy filings by G.M. and Chrysler forced the union into once-unthinkable concessions, including the two-tier wage structure.Over the last 10 years, the automakers have rebounded, often with record earnings, and union workers have benefited. Last year, G.M. paid a profit-sharing bonus of $10,250 to each of its U.A.W. employees. But on other fronts, the union is still in retreat. A 40-day strike in 2019 was unable to prevent G.M. from closing a plant in Lordstown, Ohio, and workers have gone without cost-of-living adjustments to their wages since 2009.The corruption investigation was started around 2014 by the U.S. attorney in Detroit, and eventually found schemes that embezzled more than $1.5 million from membership dues and $3.5 million from training centers. Top union officials used the money for expensive cigars, wines, liquor, golf clubs, apparel and luxury travel.More than a dozen U.A.W. officials pleaded guilty. As part of a consent decree to settle the investigation, the U.S. District Court in Detroit appointed Mr. Barofsky to monitor the U.A.W.’s efforts to become more democratic and transparent.In July, a former U.A.W. president, Gary Jones, was released from federal prison after serving less than nine months of a 28-month sentence. Another former leader, Dennis Williams, served nine months of his 21-month sentence. Other convicted officials were also released after serving less than half of their sentences.At the convention last week, the shortened sentences were a source of frustration for many attendees, but as the proceedings pressed on, many backed the positions of Mr. Curry and the current executive board on issues that arose.David Hendershot, a forklift driver at a Ford plant in Rawsonville, Mich., said that he wanted the union to push for higher wages in contract talks next year, and that he wasn’t happy with the corruption that took place. But he isn’t sure he wants a wholesale change in leadership. “I’ll probably stick with what we’ve got,” he said. More

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      After Lebanon’s Collapse, Can an Election Fix the Country?

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      On Sunday, Lebanese voters get their first chance to pass judgment on lawmakers since the economy fell apart. Few expect things to improve.BEIRUT, Lebanon — Onstage, Lebanese politicians spoke of upholding national sovereignty, fighting corruption and fixing the state. Their leader said he would fight to disarm Hezbollah, the political party that is also Lebanon’s strongest military force.But those concerns were far from the mind of Mohammed Siblini, 57, who like many Lebanese had watched his life fall apart over the past two years as the country collapsed.The national currency’s free-fall meant that his monthly salary from a rental car company had fallen to $115 from $2,000, he said. The state’s failure to provide electricity meant that most of his earnings went to a generator to keep his lights on. What was left failed to cover the small pleasures that had been, until recently, a normal part of life.“I want meat!” Mr. Siblini yelled at the politicians. “Get us one kilogram of meat!”On Sunday, Lebanon votes for a new Parliament for the first time in four years. It is hard to overstate how much worse life has gotten for the average citizen in that period, and how little the country’s political elite have done to cushion the blow.The vote is the public’s first opportunity to formally respond to their leaders’ performance, so at stake is not just who wins which seats, but the larger question of whether Lebanon’s political system is capable of fixing its many dysfunctions.Few analysts think that it is, at least in the short term.Flags of the Lebanese Forces political party in Byblos, Lebanon, on Sunday. The election is the public’s first opportunity to pass judgment on their leaders since the economic collapse.Joseph Eid/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesThe country’s complex social makeup, with 18 officially recognized religious sects and a history of civil conflict, drives many voters to elect their coreligionists, even if they are corrupt.And in a country where citizens seek out a party boss to cut through bureaucracy or get their children government jobs, corruption actually helps established political parties serve their constituents.But the collapse has put new strain on that old system.The crisis began in late 2019, when protests against the political elite spilled into the streets of the capital, Beirut, and other cities.That exacerbated pressure on the banks, which had been engaging in creative accounting with the central bank to prop up the currency and earn unsustainable returns for depositors.Critics have called it a Ponzi scheme, and it suddenly failed. The value of the Lebanese pound began a decline that would erase 95 percent of its value, and commercial banks placed limits on withdrawals, refusing to give people their money because the banks had effectively lost it.The financial turmoil tore through the economy. Prices spiked, businesses failed, unemployment skyrocketed and doctors, nurses and other professionals fled the country for better salaries abroad.The state, which had never managed to provide 24-hour electricity, ran so low on cash that it now supplies barely any at all, even to power traffic lights.Making matters worse, a huge explosion in the port of Beirut in August 2020, also caused by gross mismanagement, killed more than 200 people and did billions of dollars in damage.A view of Beirut’s port on Friday. Official negligence led to the explosion there in August 2020, which killed hundreds.Mohamed Azakir/ReutersDespite losses that the government says total $72 billion, none of the banks have gone out of business, the central bank chief remains in his job, and none of the politicians who backed the policies that led to the collapse have been held accountable. Some of them are running in Sunday’s election — and are likely to win.Many of the candidates are familiar faces who would struggle to bill themselves as agents of change.They include Nabih Berri, the 84-year-old speaker of Parliament, who has held that job, uninterrupted, for nearly three decades; Ali Hassan Khalil, a former finance minister who worked to hobble the investigation into the cause of the Beirut explosion; and Gebran Bassil, the president’s son-in-law, whom the United States accuses of corruption and placed sanctions on last year. Mr. Bassil denies the accusation.Hezbollah, which has a substantial bloc in Parliament and is considered a terrorist organization by the United States and other countries, is fielding a range of candidates. Others are warlords from the Lebanese civil war, which ended in 1990, or, in some cases, their sons.Many voters are just fed up, and have little faith that their votes will make a difference.“A candidate comes now and says ‘I will do this and that,’ and I tell them, ‘Many came before you and couldn’t change anything,’” said Claudette Mhanna, a seamstress.She said she would like to vote for a new figure who came out of the 2019 protests, but because of the way the election is run, she has to vote for lists that include candidates she hates.“We are suffocating,” she said. “If I get myself to think about going and voting, I can’t think of who I would vote for.”Supporters of Hezbollah at a rally in Baalbek, Lebanon, on Friday.Francesca Volpi/Getty ImagesMany of those running have ties to the financial system, which Olivier De Schutter, a United Nations expert on poverty, said shared responsibility for the “man-made crisis” in Lebanon that had resulted in human rights violations.“Lifetime savings have been wiped out by a reckless banking sector lured by a monetary policy favorable to their interests,” he wrote in a report published last week. “An entire generation has been condemned to destitution.”On Friday, the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project reported that a son of Lebanon’s central bank governor had transferred more than $6.5 million out of the country at a time when most depositors were locked out of their savings.Those transactions were carried out by AM Bank, whose chairman, Marwan Kheireddine, bought a Manhattan penthouse for $9.9 million from the actress Jennifer Lawrence in August 2020, when Lebanon’s economy was plummeting.Mr. Kheireddine has said the purchase was for a company he managed, not for him personally.Now he is running for Parliament, and he told The New York Times in an interview that he wants to use his experience to help fix the economy.“I’m experienced in finance,” he said. “I’m not going to make promises, but I will do my best to work hard to get the depositors’ money back.”For many Lebanese, party loyalty remains strong.“There’s no list more deserving of my vote than Hezbollah,” said Ahmad Zaiter, 22, a university student from Baalbek in eastern Lebanon.He said Hezbollah’s weapons were necessary to defend the country, and that the party had helped its supporters weather the crisis by providing cheap medication from Syria and Iran.“If there’s a party besides Hezbollah that is offering weapons to the government to strengthen it so we can defend ourselves or offering services, then where is it?” he said.Soldiers were deployed in Beirut on Saturday, the eve of the election.Mohamed Azakir/ReutersMany first-timers are running, too, marketing themselves as being cleaner and closer to the people. Most projections have them winning only a limited number of seats in the 128-member Parliament, and analysts expect them to struggle without the infrastructure of a political party.“I will be the people’s voice inside the Parliament, but I cannot promise that I will fix the electricity or the infrastructure,” said Asma-Maria Andraos, who is running in Beirut. “I cannot say that I will stop the corruption, which is deeply rooted in our system.”Many Lebanese who have the means have already left the country, and many more are seeking ways out. A recent poll by the research group Arab Barometer found that 48 percent of Lebanese citizens were seeking to emigrate. For those between ages 18 and 29, the percentage rose to 63 percent, the poll found.Fares Zouein, who owns a Beirut sandwich shop, said he intended to vote for his local political boss, whom he refused to name, because the man uses his position to help the neighborhood.“That’s our problem in Lebanon: If you don’t have someone to help you, you’re stuck,” said Mr. Zouein, 50.He, too, had little faith that the election would make life better.“This is why everyone in Lebanon has three goals in life: to get a second passport, to open a bank account abroad, and to send their children abroad for school,” he said. More