the crusade of Bolsonaro supporters

• In Campo Grande, Big Mama, the spiritual warrior of Jair Bolsonaro

She arrives an hour late and with the air of a diva, as if she had fallen from the sky. In front of the small wooden parish church, a line of faithful and friends has formed, waiting for her; everyone is impatient to wish him a happy birthday. Between laughter and sticky kisses, Big Mama, a robust woman with impeccable makeup, gets emotional: “If you send me a video congratulating me on my 57th birthday, I’ll die right away!” She refers to Jair Bolsonaro, her idol, her hero. She cries with joy at the mere idea of ​​speaking with the president of Brazil, whom she worships. Almost literally.

An evangelical pastor since she was 17 years old, Big Mama, whose name is Josette Monteiro Marques, preaches the word of God and now also that of the Brazilian president, in her neighborhood of Campo Grande, a popular suburb west of Rio de Janeiro. From a very young age, God has “sent” messages from her every day, except for one rough patch of hers during her twenties when drugs and alcohol kept her from the divine path for four years. In 2018, she allegedly “called” her to campaign for her Messiah: Jair Messias Bolsonaro. Big Mama has 178,000 followers on Instagram, where she regularly posts videos defending the far-right leader’s views.

perfect disciple

Big Mama was a battered woman and has been married twice. She is the mother of four biological children and more than “1,886 spiritual children” whom she is proud to have put on the “right path” thanks to her evangelical drug rehabilitation association. She has all the makings of a conservative right-wing disciple; to the green and yellow turban that she proudly wears on her head at every patriotic rally.

Big Mama is a black woman. “Ella Se can be a samba composer, a warrior woman and defend the president, I don’t see what the problem is,” she says. However, Jair Bolsonaro is often singled out for his racist statements. In 2017, during a conference in Rio, he stated that “the Negroes of the Quilombos (peoples of descendants of refugee black slaves) were not even fit to procreate.”

The most recent scandal was in early August, when he defended himself from being racist during an interview on the Flow Podcast. The candidate said that in his youth as a soldier he saved an Afro-Brazilian colleague from drowning and that “he would have let him die if he had been a racist.”

“Says some nonsense from time to time, but with good will”

According to Big Mama, critics refuse to believe that Black and LGBTQIA+ people can support the president. His support would have cost her several threats. “They have threatened me with death because I defend the president, because I wear a turban, because I respect the Orishas (gods of African-based religions) and because I am proud of my skin color. But does my skin have a political party?

Unlike his opponents, for Big Mama Jair Bolsonaro represents a true defender of freedom of thought, a man who “does not steal, does not judge, it is true that he says some nonsense from time to time, but with good will.” Little does he care about the president’s statements as long as he constitutes a shield “against the communist threat.”

In her years of addiction, she saw her brother sink into his dependence on cannabis, influenced, according to her, by the socialist ideas in vogue when the military dictatorship ended.

Sitting at a table next to the small parish where she officiates, Big Mama drinks one coffee after another and speaks faster and faster, as if she had to convince in record time of the benefits of Jair Bolsonaro’s politics. Every newcomer she welcomes is a new pastor joining her cause. Bibles soon pile up at the entrance to the room where the preaching begins with music. Big Mama takes the microphone and with tears in her eyes she hugs a huge Brazilian flag. She calls herself a “spiritual warrior” and suddenly shouts: “Lord, she frees Brazil from socialism and blesses our nation, our president and his elections”. In chorus, the entire room sings an ‘Amen’. In Campo Grande, the most populous suburb of Rio, Big Mama campaigns.

• From south to north, the traveling and patriotic family

Another scenario, same fervour. In an old military police minibus, converted into a caravan, Déborah, Guilherme and their 6-year-old daughter, Amabile Levinson, warm up with coffees with sugar. That day a cold wind blows in Rio. “Come in quickly!”. The trailer door slams shut with a thunderous bang.

love, order and progress

They say they are “apolitical”, “without a party”. But it was Jair Bolsonaro who inspired them. And it is clear that they will vote for him. At least Deborah. Guilherme reserves his vote in the first round for Pablo Marçal, a religious coach of the unknown evangelical “messianic” movement.

In 2018, they realized that in their Cachoas do sul neighborhood, few residents raised the flag like them every morning. His reads “love, order and progress.” Guilherme added the word ‘love’ inspired, according to him, by the French positivist philosopher Auguste Comte. “My neighbors, my friends, were ashamed of the flag because they were afraid that their pro-Lula neighbors would criticize them or that they would be called right-wing extremists.” Gone is the green and yellow pride that united an entire nation during the 2014 World Cup. Since the impeachment of former president Dilma Rousseff, the Seleçao jersey has been worn almost exclusively by its detractors at patriotic demonstrations. Jair Bolsonaro appropriated the colors in 2018. Now anyone who displays a Brazilian flag in his window can only be a supporter of the president.

Déborah believes in him, but confesses that the balance of his government is not one of the brightest: “He had four difficult years, a federal supreme court that constantly opposed all his policies, a pandemic and state governors who prevented him from governing and maintain the economy of this country. Before continuing, she sighs, “We’re screwed if the Workers’ Party comes back because they’ve already looted this country, they’re going to bleed it out again.”

“He protects our sovereignty”

Guilherme’s gaze is lost in the green of the immense flag that hangs like a curtain in the driver’s cabin: “We have to be proud of our roots, our beautiful country and its riches. Jair Bolsonaro defends him, protects our sovereignty, refuses to allow our Amazon to be invaded by foreigners, that’s why they hate him.”

The president would be the incarnation of patriotism for supporting the national economy above all else, despite Covid-19, for rejecting international intervention in the management of the Amazon rainforest and for defending the conservative and evangelical values ​​that his wife, Michelle Bolsonaro, faithful believer, he whispers in her ear.

“Defend our nation, our flag”

A soldier knocks on the window and kindly asks Guilherme to park a little further away. Although the caravan has the colors of the army, parked at this entrance to the Urca military base, at the foot of the Sugar Loaf, it makes it difficult for the battalion to maneuver. But it is not serious: “We are used to it, we never pay for parking and the police never bother us. They defend our cause.”

In the midst of the wind that blows during the end of the Rio de Janeiro winter, the little van is a patriotic thermometer. Wherever you drive or park, supporters come to take a photo, buy a flag or have a little chat. The day before, the family was invited to the evangelical cult of the Bope battalion, the elite intervention group of the military police, specialized in the repression of drug gangs and known for its skull insignia and forceful methods. “A friendly invitation”, according to Guilherme, “because they sympathize with our cause”. Which? “Defend our nation, our flag.” But against whom? “The enemies, those of the new world order who want to divide us to win better.”

• In Araquari, the weapons in the polls with Jocelito

With its siren on, Jocelito Rodrigues’ SUV exceeds the speed limit on the highway that connects Joinville with Araquari, an elegant suburb of this wealthy city in southern Brazil. He heads to his firing range. In military reservist uniform, he is proud of his small privilege as a local notable. Normally about 1,500 associates rub shoulders there. But tonight there is no one in the club. Everyone is at Shotfair, the largest arms fair in Latin America, where Jocelito exhibited in August. In the distance you can only hear the practice shots of their security teams, who make a small demonstration in front of a huge banner that reads in black letters on the green of the Brazilian flag: “It’s not about weapons, but of freedom”, the slogan of the pro-armament lobby, of which Jocelito has been an active member for more than 30 years.

The visit continues in his office, a large, cold room with unique decoration. A wax skull and a golden eagle with spread wings stand out on his desk. Behind, the Brazilian flag as a banner and the photo of President Jair Bolsonaro. Passing by, Jocelito stops and, in a military salute position, murmurs: “To the captain!” A daily ritual.

He is proud to say that he has never voted for the left, and that he has never been attracted by the sirens of the Labor Party in his life, unlike a large part of those who have joined the cause of Jair Bolsonaro. His convictions have not changed. The president and candidate for re-election was for Jocelito the providential man. “He ticked all my boxes and he did not disappoint.” Thanks to the measures implemented by the government of Jair Bolsonaro, the number of shooting ranges increased by 1,162%. Of the 151 there were at the end of 2019, there are now 1,906 across the country. Araquari is one of the most important.

“We already know how to read, thanks”

“Santa Catarina is the state with the largest number of weapons, but it also has the lowest homicide rate by firearms in the country,” he exclaims as if to justify himself, without there being a question in between. A litany that he repeats over and over again to all the journalists who come to his stand. Defense mechanism or political argument? A few weeks ago, the Workers’ Party candidate, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, threatened to turn all shooting ranges into libraries if he was elected to lead the country. A diatribe that irritates Jocelito: “We already know how to read, thanks! Not like the sympathizers on the left.”

Jocelito Rodrigues does not even dare to imagine the possibility of a defeat for Bolsonaro’s side. “It would be a great loss for the country and it would be more difficult to own weapons… I don’t believe in the victory of the left. If that were to happen, it would be because there was electoral fraud, for example. In any case, regarding the closing of the shooting ranges, it would have little influence because we depend on the army and a president will hardly change things related to the army.” For him and the members of his club, the biggest threat to Jair Bolsonaro’s re-election is fraud at the polls. In Brazil, voting has been electronic since 1996, a reliable system until now, but constantly criticized by the president and his supporters. The American experience was a lesson and they fear that, like Donald Trump, they will “rob the victory”.

At Shotfair, Eduardo Bolsonaro, federal deputy for the State of São Paulo and son of Jair, passes a few meters from Jocelito’s stand. A fervent ambassador of the pro-gun lobby, Eduardo is the fair’s guest of honor. Jocelito rushes over to give her a t-shirt from his shooting range. “We will support his father at all costs,” he assures her, smiling for the photo. Eduardo Bolsonaro accepts the gift with pleasure, but he will not take off what he is wearing that day: a black T-shirt with a “fuck communist” that does not shock anyone in the room.