Political bullying is rarely as brutal as it was in Brazil this week when the environment minister Marina Silva was ambushed in a senate meeting. Her thuggish tormentors – all white male politicians on the infrastructure committee – took turns to publicly belittle the 67-year-old black woman, who has done more than anyone to protect the natural wealth of the country – theAmazon rainforest, Pantanal wetlands, Cerrado savannah and other biomes – from rapacious abuse.
One by one, they lined up to attack her for these globally important efforts. Decorum gave way to name-calling and sneering: “Know your place,” roared the committee head, Marcos Rogério, a Bolsonarist who cut Silva’s microphone as she tried to respond. The leader of the centre-rightPSDB, Plínio Valério, told her she did not deserve respect as a minister. The Amazonas senator Omar Aziz – from the Centrão party and a supporter of president Lula – talked over her repeatedly.
Their motives appeared to be partly ideological, partly misogynistic and largely self-interested. All of them were trying to force through economic projects – roads, oilfields, dams or plantations – that are under scrutiny by Silva’s environment ministry. Never mind that this is her job, they seemed to say, how dare she not allow them to have their way?
But she did dare. Despite her frail physique, Silva is a fighter. Born in the Amazon rainforest, she helped to found the Workers’ party alongside Lula during the era of military dictatorship. She campaigned against deforestation alongside Chico Mendes, who was assassinated in 1988. In her first stint as environment minister, between 2003 and 2008, she established a monitoring-and-penalty system that she said reduced forest clearance by 80%. Later, she ran as president for the Green party, securing nearly 20m votes – more than any other Green candidate in world history. Twelve years ago, she founded her own party – the Sustainability Network.
Silva refused to tolerate being abused and silenced, and walked out of the senate meeting. Outside, when she finally had a chance to speak, she turned on her tormentors: “My place is the place to defend democracy, my place is the place to defend the environment, to combat inequality, sustainable development, to protect biodiversity, and infrastructure projects that are necessary for the country,” she said defiantly. “What is unacceptable is for someone to think that because you are a woman, black, and come from a humble background, that you are going to say who I am and still say that I should stay in my place. My place is where all women should be.”
This version of what happened has been reported widely in the Brazilian media, but it tells only part of the story. What is missing – and more important – is why the pack of senators felt Silva was vulnerable. That is because over the previous few days, Lula had taken the side of the oil industry rather than the Amazon rainforest, and then – not by coincidence – the Brazilian environmental movement suffered one of the biggest legislative defeats in its history.
At the centre of everything is a long-running row over oil exploration in the Foz do Amazonas. BP and the French oil company Total used to hold most of these rights, but they baulked at the political and environmental challenge of drilling so close to the world’s biggest centre of terrestrial biodiversity. Instead, Brazil’s state-run oil company, Petrobras, stepped up. For Lula – and the senators in nearby regions – that meant potential votes, jobs and export earnings. The only thing standing in their way was the environment ministry, which has delayed a licence for years due to the risks of a possible spill in such an ecologically sensitive area.
That handbrake was lifted earlier this week, when the head of the environmental regulator, Ibama, ignored the warnings of 29 expert advisers by moving on to the next stage of the approval process for operations in the Foz do Amazonas. Thiscapitulationfollowed pressure from Congress and the president.
This was followed by the biggest legislative setback for the environment in more than 40 years. To the delight of the mining, construction and farming industries, thesenate has passed a long-pending billthat strips a range of environmental licensing powers from Silva’s ministry. This piece of legislation – dubbed the devastation bill by opponents – allows companies to self-license or avoid environmental licensing for road construction, dam-building and other projects. It is a shift of control from the representatives of the people to the executives of big companies.
Lula could yet wield a veto on this bill. But so far thepresident’s response has been tepid. His party has a weak presence in congress, so he depends on a broad and fractious coalition, many of whose members are enmeshed in agribusiness or mining. Next year’s presidential election seems to be weighing on his mind more than November’s Cop30 climate summit in Belém.
In the wake of the attacks on Silva by the senate infrastructure committee, Lula publicly came to her defence. He said she was right to walk out in the face of so much provocation. But he has not faced up to his responsibility for leaving her exposed. Nor has he faced up to the contradictions of his own promise to achievezero deforestation by 2030and his support for evidently incompatible projects, such as oil drilling off the coast of the Amazon, an upgraded BR319 road that would open up the forest between Manaus and Porto Velho to greater clearance activities, and a new grain railway that would increase pressure for more soya bean plantations.
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At the Amazon Summit in Belém two years ago, he declined to sign up to Colombian president Gustavo Petro’s calls for a fossil-free rainforest. Soon after, at Cop28 in Dubai, his government shocked many of its supporters by announcing it would join the Opec+ oil cartel. Lula can argue that this is pragmatism as Brazil depends on petroleum sales for a growing share of its GDP. Fossil fuel realpolitik is likely to be evident at a Brics summit in Rio de Janeiro in July, where the Brazilian president will rub shoulders with China’s Xi Jinping of China, Russia’s Vladimir Putin, India’s Narendra Modi and other world leaders.
Lula has thrown Marina Silva under a cement mixer once before – in 2008, when she was forced to leave his second-term government because too many ministers saw her as a drag on economic development. He may feel reluctant to do so again before Cop30, because he knows she is vital for Brazil’s environmental credibility in the eyes of much of the world, and he does not want his country to return to the pariah status it endured during the Bolsonaro years. But the sands are shifting and Lula seems unsure of his footing.
His base – the working class and poor – are already suffering the brunt of climate impacts. The south of Brazil has been deluged by devastating floods. Thenorthern Amazon has been stricken by record droughts and fires.
Civil society and progressive thinkers – almost all of whom usually support Lula – have been far more active than the president in opposing the devastation bill and defending the environment minister on social media, where many public figures have posted “Marina is not alone” messages of support.
But like many other centre left leaders in the world, Lula is struggling in the age of Trump, of rightwing extremism, of warmongering, of geopolitical realignment and corporate backtracking on the environment. As Silva showed, it takes courage to face those forces. Lula has often stood by her in that fight, but does he still have the stomach and the inclination to continue?