When Lula was elected in 2002, Brazil’s class divide was reflected in the votes in a way that seemed relatively easy to understand. The poorest voters supported the Workers’ Party (PT), while the elite and the middle class backed the Brazilian Social Democracy Party (PSDB), a center-right party and the PT’s main rival at that time. Although this divide did not account for 100% of the votes in each region, it has remained relatively constant ever since. In 2018, 2022, and the first round of the 2026 election, the North and Northeast remained Lula’s electoral strongholds, while support for Bolsonaro was stronger in the other regions. Even so, the PT’s electoral advantage in the territories where it has historically predominated has been diminishing, showing that the alignment between the poorest voters and the left no longer holds the same strength.

This electoral divide also has a racial dimension, since the Northeast, the region with the largest Black and mixed-race population in the country, has historically concentrated a significant portion of Lula’s electorate. In the North, on the other hand, the presence of Indigenous populations is more significant, alongside a large Black and mixed-race population. As we move toward the South, the proportion of white people increases, reflecting a history marked by European immigration, particularly from Italy and Germany. These differences, by themselves, do not explain voting choices, but they help us understand why class, race, and origin are inseparable elements of Brazilian politics.

What the rise of Bolsonarism exposes is a contradiction that goes beyond this electoral and racial geography. A significant portion of the poor have increasingly come to support an aggressive and violent right-wing movement that frequently expresses disdain for the very groups that make up its support base. How can we explain why people subjected to economic precariousness and discrimination have joined a movement that perpetuates the very values and prejudices that harm them?

It is through this contradiction that Jessé Souza begins to develop his analysis in The Poor on the Right. Right at the start of the book, the sociologist draws on the figure of the Joker – a character from Todd Phillips’s film – to address the daily humiliation faced by the poorest. Just like Arthur Fleck (the film’s protagonist, played by actor Joaquin Phoenix), who faces repeated situations of contempt and violence, these people live in a society that denies them not only economic resources but also the recognition and cultural capital valued by the ruling classes. Humiliation does not appear as an isolated episode, but as a constant experience that affects the way individuals perceive themselves and others. It is in this context that Souza begins to investigate how social dispositions and resentments are formed – ones that can fuel identification with the right.

Our behavior is not determined by economic needs, as both liberalism and certain versions of Marxism believe. It is determined by our most basic need of all: the social recognition of our dignity and uniqueness.^[1]

The Class Structure in Brazil According to Jessé Souza

According to Jessé Souza, the Brazilian class structure has its roots in slave society, whose hierarchies survived abolition and continue to shape social relations. The economic elite has preserved its position through the concentration of wealth and the intergenerational reproduction of privileges, maintaining forms of domination that, although they have evolved over time, remain marked by the historical devaluation of the Black population and the poorest groups.

The traditional middle class occupies a distinct position within this structure, not only because of its income but above all because of its access to education, knowledge, and socially valued cultural capital: resources that facilitate the attainment of skilled jobs and enable the transmission of advantages to their children. Souza points out that these privileges help reproduce class stratification even among families that do not belong to the economic elite, while simultaneously establishing a social distance from workers who do not have the same opportunities.

Below the traditional middle class are the so-called “near-poor” – workers who have managed to improve their material conditions but remain subject to precarious circumstances and lack the same cultural and educational resources as privileged groups. During the PT administrations, rising incomes and consumption led these sectors to be presented as the “new middle class,” a label that was also incorporated into the way some of them came to recognize their own social position. Souza challenges this classification because access to consumer goods does not eliminate the inequalities that separate these workers from the established middle class, whose advantages depend on resources accumulated over generations. In previous works, the sociologist used the term “strivers” to analyze working-class sectors that, despite their difficulties, channel their efforts and work ethic toward improving their living conditions.

At the bottom of this hierarchy are the most marginalized groups, whom Souza refers to as the “Brazilian underclass” in his earlier work and whose exclusion he links to the legacy of slavery. These are people who face such vulnerable living conditions that access to education, stable employment, and opportunities for social mobility become much more difficult, keeping them in a subordinate position. Although the near-poor also face economic insecurity, the gap between these groups is significant for Souza’s analysis, since inequality produces not only material differences but also hierarchies of social value that influence the way people perceive themselves and others. So, this group is still considered poor.

It is from these unequal positions that Souza seeks to explain the support for the right among segments of the working class. The poor may seek social recognition and distinction by symbolically distancing themselves from the most marginalized groups, even without access to the privileges of the traditional middle class. In this struggle, prejudice against the poorest can serve as a way to demarcate social boundaries and assert a position superior to that of other working-class sectors, contributing to a situation where workers who also face precarious conditions reproduce the values and hierarchies that sustain the inequality of which they are a part.

Poor Whites and Poor Blacks

The “silent majority,” oppressed without being aware of the causes of its oppression, can be manipulated from above, like puppets.^[2]

To understand the political motivations of the poorest sectors of society, it is necessary to distinguish between the experiences of whites and Blacks, whose social positions are shaped by different forms of inequality and prejudice. Based on interviews with poor whites from the South and poor Blacks from São Paulo, Souza’s analysis examines how these groups construct their social identities and how their experiences contribute to distinct forms of support for the right.

Among poor white people in the South, European ancestry – often reflected in their last names – fuels a contradiction between the identity they construct for themselves and the material conditions in which they live. As descendants of Europeans, they may not understand why they do not achieve the same standard of living as wealthy white people, whom they view as their “European brothers.” In this context, meritocracy gains traction as an explanation for social differences, while the historical and structural causes of Brazilian poverty remain hidden. Rather than linking their hardships to the unequal organization of society, these workers may attribute them to their own lack of effort or to the existence of groups they consider to be unfairly favored by the state.

The resentment is directed especially at people from the Northeast, predominantly Black and mixed-race, who are blamed both for the country’s difficulties and for the living conditions of the Southern workers themselves. Since many people from the Northeast depend on social assistance programs, government aid comes to be portrayed as a mechanism through which they supposedly drain national resources, supported by the labor of others. Racial prejudice thus appears disguised as regional xenophobia. Hostility toward Northeasterners allows for the expression of racial hierarchies without necessarily acknowledging the racism that underpins them, while simultaneously diverting workers’ dissatisfaction away from the social structures responsible for the concentration of wealth and the perpetuation of poverty.

Among poor Black people in São Paulo, support for the right involves a different contradiction. Some of these voters support Bolsonaro despite the racist statements made by the former president and sectors of his political base. To understand this position, one must consider the quest for recognition in a society where the Black population remains exposed to discrimination and dehumanization. Aligning with socially dominant values can fuel the expectation of distancing oneself from the most marginalized Black groups and gaining greater social acceptance. This attempt at symbolic “whitening,” however, does not eliminate racial barriers nor guarantee the desired recognition.

Religion plays a central role in this trajectory. The growth of Pentecostal churches and evangelical conservatism contributes to a moral interpretation of everyday hardships, which can be attributed to the devil’s work, moral decay, or the communist threat, rather than being linked to structures of inequality. By presenting itself as a defender of the family, discipline, and Christian values, the right establishes a connection with believers for whom these values occupy a central place in social life. At the same time, policies promoting social inclusion and the rights of historically marginalized groups can be portrayed as threats to the moral order that these communities seek to preserve.

The trajectories of the two groups reveal distinct forms of alignment with the right. Among poor white people, resentment toward people from the Northeast transforms regional and racial differences into explanations for poverty and national problems. Among poor Black people linked to evangelical conservatism, religion and the quest for recognition may foster identification with political forces that reproduce racial hierarchies. In both cases, social dissatisfaction may be directed against other working-class sectors, shifting the focus away from the structures that concentrate wealth and perpetuate inequality.

All evangelical denominations, without exception, compete with one another to offer solace to those who suffer so much and, through this, to control and manipulate the hearts and minds of the persecuted and abandoned.^[3]

The far right is great at selling fantasies

The far right transforms social discontent into resentment against groups portrayed as responsible for the country’s problems. Instead of attributing poverty to historical inequalities and the concentration of wealth, it blames the deterioration of living conditions on corruption, recipients of social programs, and segments of the population described as threats to national order. In Brazil, prejudice against people from the Northeast, Black people, and recipients of Bolsa Família – the country’s main income redistribution program – is combined with the idea that the country is being harmed by people who receive benefits without contributing. This narrative offers the poor an explanation for their difficulties and allows them to distinguish themselves from those they consider less deserving, even when their own living conditions are also precarious.

Meritocracy helps sustain this view by presenting individual effort as a measure of merit and economic status as a reflection of each person’s choices. Inequalities of origin, unequal access to education, and differences in job opportunities are downplayed in this interpretation. Those who work hard yet remain poor may attribute their situation to taxes, corruption, or assistance granted to other groups, without questioning why their own work does not guarantee better living conditions. Instead of being directed at the concentration of wealth and the structures that perpetuate poverty, their outrage is turned against those who supposedly receive undue advantages.

The far right also exploits the desire for belonging and recognition by championing the family, religion, and a national identity presented as under threat. Complex social problems come to be associated with moral decay, the loss of traditional values, and the influence of political enemies. In this discourse, the left is portrayed as responsible for weakening the family, favoring groups considered unworthy, and jeopardizing the social order. For some segments of the working class, supporting this agenda may mean affirming their moral and religious identity, even if the economic and social proposals advocated by the right do not meet their material needs.

These fantasies do not depend on promises being fulfilled. Their power lies in their ability to offer explanations for everyday frustrations, point out culprits, and fuel the expectation that the situation could improve if certain groups lost their privileges or were removed from public life. When results fail to materialize, the blame can be placed on the opposition, on institutions, or on new enemies. In this way, the far right channels popular dissatisfaction into conflicts between groups that share precarious conditions, while the structures responsible for perpetuating inequalities remain shielded from scrutiny.

The False Outrage Against Corruption

Neither the elite nor the white middle class has any problem with corruption, as long as it is committed by the wealthy in the free market.^[4]

Corruption occupies a central place in Brazilian political disputes, but the outrage it provokes is not distributed equally among different social groups, nor is it directed at all forms of wealth accumulation. According to Jessé Souza, neither the elite nor the white middle class has major issues with corruption practiced by the wealthy in the free market. Indignation arises when governments allocate resources to the poorest, as if social programs represented a misuse of public funds, while the accumulation of wealth by the elites is seen as a natural consequence of merit and individual effort.

This selectivity helps explain the recurrence of campaigns that link worker-friendly governments to corruption. Getúlio Vargas faced an intense political campaign that exploited accusations of corruption before his suicide in 1954. João Goulart was deposed by the 1964 military coup after advocating for fundamental reforms that ran counter to the interests of the economic elites. Decades later, Dilma Rousseff^[5] was impeached in 2016 on charges of fiscal irresponsibility. In 2018, Lula^[6] was arrested after being convicted in a case related to Operation Car Wash, which prevented him from running in that year’s presidential election. These incidents occurred under different circumstances, but they show how allegations of corruption can be used in power struggles, especially when political initiatives that affect the interests of the elites are at stake.

The problem lies not in investigating the misappropriation of public funds, but in the selective manner in which corruption is exposed and prosecuted. Misappropriation attributed to certain parties and government officials takes center stage in public debate, while corruption committed by economically powerful groups receives less attention. At the same time, cash transfer programs are accused of wasting public funds, even though they benefit people who have historically had little access to the nation’s wealth. Money allocated to the poor becomes a source of outrage, while the mechanisms that allow privileged groups to accumulate wealth and maintain their influence over the state rarely provoke the same reaction.

This narrative finds fertile ground among workers facing economic hardship and inadequate public services. Convinced that their problems stem from the corruption of certain government officials or from resources allocated to other groups, they may direct their anger against social policies and governments that expand the poorest people’s access to income and rights. The accusation of corruption thus transforms conflicts over the distribution of wealth into a moral dispute between politicians deemed dishonest and citizens who feel they have been wronged. While the outrage is directed at social programs and their beneficiaries, the inequalities and privileges that structure Brazilian society remain outside the focus of criticism.

Identification and the Psychology of the Masses

The Bolsonaro clan and the politicians who orbit around it exploit the sense of identification they evoke in their voters and supporters. Repressed feelings and prejudices play a role in this unconscious process, and the higher the shared expectations, the stronger both the bonds with the leader and the ties among group members become.

Jair Bolsonaro is idealized as the one who would be capable of solving all the country’s ills. Even while imprisoned and removed from the daily presence of his supporters, he continues to exert influence through his sons and other allies, who hold leadership positions and echo his rhetoric. Identification with the leader, therefore, can persist even when he himself is not present, as long as his representatives uphold the symbols, values, and promises that unite the group.

When pro-Bolsonaro politicians make racist, misogynistic, or anti-poor statements, they find support among people who recognize in these remarks the prejudices and resentments that they themselves do not always express openly. What appears to other sectors of society as intolerance may be interpreted by these supporters as a sign of honesty and courage, as if the politician were willing to say what others would hide out of convenience or fear of disapproval. The transgression of social norms thus comes to function as proof of authenticity and as a means of identification among those who share the same resentments.

In the book’s conclusion, Souza draws on concepts from Freudian psychoanalysis to explain the mechanisms underpinning this loyalty. In Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, Freud describes how a leader can occupy, for the members of a group, the place of the ideal ego – an instance related to the demands and standards by which the individual judges himself. This identification helps explain why followers come to adopt the leader’s values as a reference for evaluating the world and why criticism directed at him can be felt as an offense to their very identity. In the case of Bolsonarism, the morality championed by the leader and his allies can legitimize prejudices and hostilities that, under other circumstances, would provoke shame or internal conflict.

Bolsonaro’s performative aggression contributes to this process by transforming the violation of social norms into a display of strength. The ability to express prejudices without embarrassment can provide a sense of relief from the constraints imposed by social interaction, while simultaneously reinforcing a sense of belonging to the group. What unites supporters is not only the expectation that the leader will solve their problems, but also the symbolic permission to express resentment and direct hostility toward those they identify as adversaries.

Beyond the Stereotype of the Poor Person Who Votes Against Their Interests

Jessé Souza’s book allows us to look beyond the stereotype of the ignorant poor person who votes against their own interests or simply does not know how to choose their representatives. This image may be comforting to progressive circles and even to part of the left, as it transforms a complex political and social problem into an individual failure, placing the responsibility for their choices on the voters themselves. The same moral superiority that the author identifies among evangelical circles – which symbolically distance themselves from the poorest – can also be found among those who consider themselves too enlightened to understand why working people support the right.

Understanding this phenomenon requires taking seriously the material and symbolic conditions under which these choices are made. Daily humiliation, lack of access to education and other basic goods, deprivation of cultural capital, and the difficulty of gaining social recognition do not disappear simply because someone has gained the right to vote. These experiences influence the way people interpret their own situation, identify their adversaries, and seek a sense of belonging. The far right exploits these needs by offering explanations for suffering, enemies to blame, and leaders who promise to restore the dignity of their supporters.

This does not mean ignoring racism, sexism, or the consequences of the policies advocated by the right, nor does it mean assuming that precariousness automatically determines a political stance. It means recognizing that moral criticism of voters, on its own, does not explain the strength of identification with the far right, nor does it help build alternatives. For a left committed to the interests of the working class, understanding these motivations is part of the political work necessary to win over their consciousness and their trust.

The working-class sectors that support the right constitute a significant portion of the electorate and of the working class itself. Treating them as a mass of people incapable of understanding their own interests means giving up on understanding the contradictions that run through their lives and on engaging with the meanings they ascribe to them. The Poor on the Right’s central contribution lies in showing that confronting the far right requires more than denouncing its leaders or condemning the choices of its voters. It requires understanding the social conditions that make this identification possible and building an alternative capable of responding to the material needs, the desire for recognition, and the quest for dignity that it mobilizes.

1. Jessé Souza, O pobre de direita: a vingança dos bastardos (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2024), 16.

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2. Jessé Souza, O pobre de direita: a vingança dos bastardos (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2024), 52.

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3. Jessé Souza, O pobre de direita: a vingança dos bastardos (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2024), 221.

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4. Jessé Souza, O pobre de direita: a vingança dos bastardos (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2024), 205.

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5. Jonathan Watts, “Dilma Rousseff Impeachment: What You Need to Know,” The Guardian, August 31, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/news/2016/aug/31/dilma-rousseff-impeachment-brazil-what-you-need-to-know

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6. Associated Press, “Brazil’s Lula da Silva Barred from Running for Presidency,” Los Angeles Times, 2018, https://www.latimes.com/world/la-fg-brazil-lula-da-silva-20180901-story.html

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