New Media and the Disillusion of Brazil’s Radical Left

Brazilian New Media in Context

New media seemingly have much to offer Brazil’s social movements in a context characterized by contentious mainstream media, a rapid rise in Internet and smartphone use, and a national affinity for social media (Jorba and Bimber, 2012: 27; Norris, 2001: 239). The proportion of Brazilian Internet users jumped from 27 percent of the population to 48 percent between 2007 and 2011 alone ² (IBOPE, 2012). By 2014, with a surge in the popularity of smartphones, over half of Brazilians regularly used the Internet and over a quarter did so daily (IBOPE, 2014). Statistics now suggest that Brazil has the largest population outside of the United States on Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube (Watts, 2014). In light of this, cyberspace is a highly attractive platform for alternative voices to reach Brazil’s masses.

The shortcomings of Brazil’s conservative mainstream media, widely deplored by civil society, have driven alternative voices online. Brazil’s most powerful media conglomerates have enjoyed an unchallenged position ever since military rule. Although the 1990s witnessed liberalization of the sector, the media remained private and entirely commercially driven until 2007 (Intervozes, 2011b). Ownership of the dominant Brazilian media has remained concentrated in a handful of family-owned conglomerates such as Globo, Latin America’s largest media group (Reporters without Borders, 2016), and this concentrated ownership has resulted in echoic reporting and a lack of diversity in opinion (Matos, 2008: 15). Since fair and representative communication systems are understood to be essential to liberal democracy, social movements, civil society groups, and scholars argue that this concentrated and conservative ownership impedes the achievement of full democracy in Brazil (Dyson, 2007: 14; Intervozes, 2011a: 7; Matos, 2008: 7). Alternative political actors claim that they are “criminalized” by the “bourgeois” media, which represent only the interests of their controlling privileged class (Branford and Rocha, 2002: 287; Intervozes, 2011a: 7), and that this negative media depiction impedes their objectives (Hammond, 2004: 65).

Fortunately for the misrepresented or silenced groups, the scope of new media in Brazil today is vast. By far the most “wired” section of society is young, educated, urban middle-class Brazilians. A 2014 government study revealed that connected Brazilians are now more reliant for news on social media than on traditional media web sites (IBOPE, 2014). In 2013’s protests, 91 percent of protesters first learned of the demonstrations online (IBOPE, 2013. cited in Pelli, 2013). Social media use in fact makes collective organization “easier, faster, and more universal,” with lower costs and fewer obstacles (Van Aelst and Walgrave, 2004: 87). It provides underrepresented groups with a high-profile platform for voicing their objectives, gaining support, challenging their adversaries, and bypassing traditional media (Bennett, 2005: 222; Della Porta, 2006: 111). Furthermore, because the most prominent social media platforms are free, movements do not need to fund their own media outlets. With seemingly so much to gain in this exciting period in Brazilian net society, the hesitancy that anticapitalist movements demonstrate toward new media is curious. In particular, it is in notable contrast to the enthusiasm with which the radical left embraced the emerging new media in the 1990s. For example, the “social netwar” of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation has long exemplified the social movement appropriation of such technologies. The Zapatistas used online “transnational solidarity networks” consisting of activist groups and human rights nongovernmental organizations to attract international attention to the tense situation in Chiapas in what Manuel Castells labeled the “first informational guerrilla movement” (Castells and Cardoso, 2006: 75; Ronfeldt et al., 1998: 37). Later, in 1999, radical anarchist groups innovatively appropriated the Internet to lobby the World Trade Organization summit in Seattle, creating alternative platforms such as Indymedia to counter mainstream coverage.

Today, a lifetime later for technology, we find ourselves in an era of “mass” new media marked by increasing accessibility and the growing concentration of power in certain social media platforms. This power concentration has resulted in the dominance of traditional capitalist actors online—a process of homogenization and heightened surveillance. In response, in 2014 Brazilian civil society lobbied the government to preserve net neutrality through landmark legislation. The Internet Constitution outlawed the collection of personal data for commercial marketing, secured freedom of expression, and prohibited certain web sites from receiving privileged Internet speeds. This progress has been welcomed by the radical left, for which the domination of traditional capitalist actors online had rendered the Internet enemy territory.

Radical Identities

To understand the relationship with new media of Brazil’s radical left, one must appreciate the importance of identity to social movements and the incompatibilities with new media of their radical, anticapitalist identities. The leading social movement scholars Manuel Castells, Alberto Melucci, and Alain Touraine all stress the centrality of identity to what they call the new social movements. In contrast to the “old” social movements, with their solid economic and sociopolitical strategies, contemporary movements have at their hearts an “ethical consciousness” with which they prioritize the defense of the identity and dignity of the oppressed and marginalized (Cohen, 1985; Melucci, 1995a; Touraine, 1995: 247).

Castells (2010: 8) stresses that groups that are “devalued and/or stigmatized by the logic of domination” are driven by their “resistance identities” or “trenches of resistance and survival on the basis of principles different from, or opposed to, those permeating institutions of society.” They assert these resistance identities by rejecting the status quo in their defensive actions (69). For example, their “sharply distinct principles” often lead them to “barely communicate” with other groups (421), and these defensive reactions are increasing in response to the “uncontrollable, fast-paced change” of globalization (69).

Castells’s observations concerning the retreat of radical groups in the modern age echo the work of Touraine (1995: 5), who argues that modernity has “paralysed” the global South “with anxiety about its lost identity,” creating a “new communitarianism.” As rapid globalization and technological change threaten minority cultures and identities, in defense such groups increasingly reassert them (Touraine, 2000: 229). Touraine believes that today’s “massive reciprocal confrontation” of human cultures leads minority groups to retreat from society in a phenomenon he terms “demodernization” (Melucci, 1995b: 41; Touraine, 2000: 2, 4). From the global South these reactions are often nationalistic, a rejection of the imperialist powers, imported neoliberal policies, and declining national sovereignty (Touraine, 2000: 229). A scholar who has acknowledged this new communitarianism in Brazilian social movements is Maria da Glória Gohn (2008: 112, 41), who claims that they face a “crisis of modernity” shaped by North-South relations. In view of this, with most radical, anticapitalist groups denouncing neoliberal globalization, it is interesting to consider their relationship with the new media that underpin this process, which are undeniably dominated by the security and economic interests of one state, the United States (Powers and Jablonski, 2015).

The resistance identities of radical social movements create equally potent collective identities. Melucci (1996: 80, 4; 1995b: 46) defines collective identity as a sense of community and impetus created through a group’s “collective experience,” which often has “potent cultural” dimensions. Taylor and Whittier (1995: 164) define collective identity as a “shared definition of a group” or sense of “we” that is reinforced through shared daily activities or “life politics.” For movements that prioritize high-risk direct action such as the radical left, the relationships constructed through alternative lifestyles and place-based community are essential in maintaining solidarity and “overcoming fear” (Melucci, 1996: 76). Strong activist communities are not only indispensable for high-risk, place-based actions but created only by them (Touraine, 1978, cited in Gohn, 2009: 336). While some theorists have argued that physical “copresence” is no longer required in an Internet age (Earl and Kimport, 2011: 146), many agree that new and social media are inherently incapable of contributing to these dynamic groups. As Wim Van de Donk and colleagues (2004: 15; Van Aelst and Walgrave, 2004: 88) stress, the Internet lacks the group experience that is fundamental to social movements, aand this makes online interaction insufficient alone for building communities. Natalie Fenton and Veronica Barassi (2011: 181) assert that the self-centered participation promoted by social media platforms conflicts with the collective nature of social movements. To some extent, these intrinsic shortcomings explain the radical left’s disengagement with new media.

These incompatibilities between the radical left and new media are illustrated by the online behavior of two of Brazil’s most prominent movements, the MST and the MPL. Detailed analysis shows that they carefully manage their new media usage, indicating their underlying unease with using a sphere monopolized by the very imperialist powers and capitalist principles that they reject. Furthermore, because they depend on strong activist communities, new media and notably social media are insufficient for and potentially threatening to their survival. The contributions of new-social-movement theorists such as Castells, Touraine, and Melucci provide insight into the origins of the Brazilian radical left’s strained relationship with new media, demonstrating that the identities of the MST and the MPL are at its root. The incompatibilities that these groups face highlight the political and cultural polarization of new media. This suggests that, while the Internet is increasingly physically accessible to the masses, diminishing net neutrality introduces issues of cultural inaccessibility.

The MST

The MST is Latin America’s largest social movement, with 1.5 million members spanning 24 Brazilian states (MST, 2010). It was officially formed in 1984, although its roots can be traced to the 1950s. Since the 1980s its objectives have remained fixed: land, extensive agrarian reform, and a more egalitarian society (MST, 2009). What has made it so controversial and distinguished it from other rural workers’ movements in Brazil is its radical and polemic action repertoire, based on direct action tactics, principally occupying unproductive farmland and lobbying the government for its redistribution. It has played a crucial role in forcing land reform “from below” (Carter, 2010: 193).

Over the past three decades, the MST has endured great changes in Brazil’s political, economic, and social context. The past decade has perhaps been the most testing for the movement. Although the colonial legacy of gross land concentration remains largely unaddressed, the MST has struggled to keep land reform on the national agenda in an adverse socioeconomic context marked by dwindling peasant populations and the unrivaled influence of Brazil’s agroindustry. At the same time, its adversaries have diversified, with agroindustry and foreign investment fueling economic growth; the movement now confronts multinationals as well as the traditional landowning elite. Additionally, it faces the waning commitment of its youth, who are developing twenty-first-century aspirations beyond the encampment (Branford and Rocha, 2002; Flynn, 2013; McNee, 2005; Wright and Wolford, 2003). Both internally and externally, it faces a struggle between traditional values and contemporary challenges. This tension also extends to the movement’s appropriation of new media.

The MST’s identity is rooted in its radical leftist origins. During its early years, revolutionary language and action were palpable, with movement ideology imbued with Marxist and Leninist theory (Wright and Wolford, 2003: 208). This radical ideology has long fueled the “intense social energy and forceful convictions” that are necessary for its disruptive public activism (Carter, 2010: 205). In the course of its expansion, the movement has adopted a more contemporary and palatable socialism, incorporating thinkers such as Paulo Freire and Noam Chomsky, with his counter-neoliberal logic, and Frantz Fanon’s theories of empowerment and postcolonial culture (Wright and Wolford, 2003: 312–314). In this way, outright calls for revolution have been tempered and replaced with an emphasis on social justice (Wright and Wolford, 2003: 314). The MST has also developed stances on issues that have intensified since its inception, such as cultural homogenization, sexism, and sustainable development. In line with the assertions of Touraine (2000: 229), in the throes of globalization the value that the movement has vigorously incorporated is anti-imperialism, with national sovereignty now central to its struggle.

From my assessment of the MST’s approach to new media it emerged that its radical resistance identity, with its socialist and nationalistic principles, has resulted in a distrust of the Internet. To the landless, the Internet is a public sphere controlled and dominated by the large capitalist corporations, imperialist powers, and elites that they consider adversaries—in the words of Igor Felippe Santos, the MST’s communication manager, “large capitalist corporations that can do and demand whatever they like” (e-mail interview, April 12, 2014). This distrust is echoed in recent comments by the leader João Pedro Stédile in which he labeled Google a tool “to spy on our lives” (TV Brasil, 2015). For the landless, online interaction requires an unappealing approach to their transnational adversaries, jeopardizing the movement’s national character (Zacchi, 2010: 135). Apparently as a result of this distrust, the MST long avoided new media, developing a quotidian online presence only in 2011. Rather than reject them entirely, it uses new media in a limited, controlled, and largely informative manner, primarily to communicate with the wider society and produce counternarratives to those of the mainstream press. For example, the MST’s home page functions largely as a news portal, while the content of Facebook and Twitter pages is primarily linked to news stories on its web site (MST, 2014b; 2014c). The movement consistently refers to itself in the third person, “the MST” or “the landless,” and eschews many of the uses of new media popular with political actors, such as engagement in online solidarity networks, the rallying of support, the recruitment of participants, and communication among members (MST, 2014a).

It is understandable that the MST would seek to maintain such a distance between its members and the Internet. Dominant capitalist culture online promotes lifestyles and values, such as urbanization, modernization, and consumerism, that are arguably incompatible with traditional peasant culture and fuel dissatisfaction with rural realities (Keeler, 2011: 5). For alternative actors, overdependence on new media exposes them to these values. As Lorraine Keeler has stressed, this promotion of fast-paced urban and consumerist lifestyles is not desirable for a movement that works tirelessly to preserve its own counterculture and battle outmigration.

The MST’s bold, high-risk direct action repertoire creates powerful experiences that fuel a sense of belonging and a palpable collective identity among the landless (Carter, 2010: 204). In this way, their core methodology of land occupation and encampment not only exerts political pressure but also physically creates the place-based communities that build this sense of group. The MST encampments function as “a laboratory for creating social awareness” and reeducation that provide schools and adult classes on socialism while restricting access to popular culture such as television (Branford and Rocha, 2002: 241; Carter, 2010; Flynn, 2013: 169). Encampment life is instead enriched by the movement’s counterculture or mística (Flynn, 2013: 173). As a separate praxis, mística takes the form of performances of song, dance, and theater visualizing goals or reenacting historic moments (Flynn, 2013: 172; Issa, 2007: 125; Kariem, 2009: 31). Performances are also used to reiterate resistance identity, with regular reference to capitalist adversaries such as agribusiness, pesticides, the United States, and Coca-Cola (Flynn, 2013: 170). It is widely recognized that, much as does Boal’s “theater of the oppressed,” mística serves to foster feelings of empowerment, love, and solidarity among recruits (Issa, 2007: 125). Accordingly, it is a powerful weapon for maintaining community and preserving peasant culture.

This strong collective identity, constructed through high-risk actions and rich cultural praxis, explains the MST’s disengagement with new media. As Flynn (2013: 178) stresses, the encampment is where one learns to be a member. With movement membership entirely dependent on place-based actions, both the web site and social media platforms are rendered mere spokespersons to external audiences. For example, the MST’s home page does not provide advice for those seeking to support the movement, and social media posts are never directed at members or potential recruits. Furthermore, as a radical leftist movement the MST gives little value to low-risk, online actions. Santos stressed that “the Internet is simply a tool. . . . What makes a difference is direct actions in various forms” (e-mail interview, April 12, 2014). Therefore, as Scherer-Warren (2013: 83) stresses, while members of the MST “recognize the importance of the Internet as a . . . more democratic form of media,” physical networks remain their “most important elements of empowerment.”

By utilizing new media in this way and avoiding cyberactivism such as petitioning, the MST distances its members from new media and their capitalist and consumerist temptations. Alia (2010: 8) stresses that this distance also preserves the “binary relations of minority and majority” that radical movements enjoy and new media threaten. Lastly, it is undeniable that this limited usage serves to safeguard the counterculture and radical direct action methodology that have been responsible for the MST’s success to date (Wolford, 2003: 510).

The MPL

The MPL São Paulo is a prominent collective of a nationwide social movement that seeks to improve the access of citizens to Brazilian cities, primarily through efficient and free public transport. In many ways, as Zibechi (2013: 32) stresses, the MPL is leading an urban struggle equivalent to that of the MST. The MPL’s agenda of free public transport for all (the Tarifa Zero) has attracted much support in urban centers among working-class Brazilians. In São Paulo transport costs consume one-fifth of the average worker’s salary, with some commuters forced to spend up to six hours a day in congestion (Conde and Jazeel, 2013: 438; MPL São Paulo, 2013). To the MPL, this results in exploitation and exclusion of workers and residents of the city’s peripheral areas, with turnstiles representing “a physical barrier of class discrimination” (MPL São Paulo, 2013: 20).

Although the MPL refuses to be labeled a “youth movement,” the São Paulo collective is led by some 40 students ³ (Roda Viva, 2013). Irrespective of this homogeneous core, the movement refers to itself as “a group of ordinary people” and has gained supporters from diverse backgrounds, particularly the working and lower middle classes. The relevance of the MPL’s agenda was evidenced by the attention attracted by its São Paulo demonstration on June 6, 2013. The protest played a catalytic role in sparking that month’s nationwide unrest, in which protesters went on to voice an array of grievances, including the lack of social services, corruption, World Cup spending, and police repression. Nevertheless, the MPL remained the “icon” of the events (Scherer-Warren, 2014: 418). Given the recognized role of social media in the June protests, it is not surprising that the MPL became associated with this “Facebookization of protest” (Saad-Filho, 2013: 659). This association is reinforced by demographic theories that link younger movements to intensive Internet usage (Della Porta and Tarrow, 2005: 241; Welp and Wheatley, 2012: 181). Conversely, my research revealed that because of its radical leftist identity the MPL’s relationship with new media is fraught with ideological tensions that have resulted in its cautious use of the Internet and particularly social networks.

Underlying the MPL’s transport struggle is a radical leftist resistance identity based on three core principles: autonomy, anticapitalism, and anarchism (MPL, 2014). First, the movement prides itself on its independence as “a horizontal, autonomous, independent and nonpartisan but not antipartisan movement” (MPL, 2014). Thus it avoids any formal links to political parties, nongovernmental organizations, and financial or religious institutions. Arguably, the most discernible component of the MPL’s radical identity is its anticapitalist position, which is at the core of its struggle (Saraiva, 2010: 77). Anticapitalist ideology is pronounced in the MPL’s rhetoric, describing its demands as “overcoming the limits of capitalism” (MPL São Paulo, 2014a). Nevertheless, despite its obvious anticapitalist leanings, the MPL declares no official political orientation in order to maintain its prized independence (Roda Viva, 2013).

Finally, although it does not call itself anarchist, it possesses many of the characteristics of such groups (Albert, 2001: 321; Graeber and Grubacic, 2004: 2). It holds that it “should not wait for initiatives by government or businesses” but “strength should come from the streets.” This rejection of formal political apparatus is at the heart of anarchist movements (Löwy, 2013). Accordingly, its main tactic is theatrical and bold “direct action protests” rather than “negotiation or dialogue with the authorities” (Oliveira, 2013, quoted in Carlotto, 2013; Graeber, 2002: 62; Löwy, 2013). These three principles contribute to a radical leftist resistance identity that is incompatible with new media.

As a relatively modern movement, the MPL has used the Internet throughout its existence. Initially, as did many anticapitalist groups at the turn of the millennium, it depended on alternative media hosts for communication. Two such platforms were Indymedia ⁴ and www.riseup.net, an e-mail provider that supports “those engaged in struggles against capitalism and other forms of oppression” (Riseup, 2014). However, with the decline of radical servers, since 2011 the movement has been forced to rely on mainstream platforms, with the creation of web sites and Facebook profiles. MPL São Paulo does not have an official presence on Twitter or YouTube (MPL São Paulo, 2014b). This transition to new “mass” media has been uncomfortable for the MPL, given its radical identity. First, its principles are challenged by the intense sociability of social media today. As Pickerill (2006: 275) notes, “online representations could lead to a loss of thematic focus for a group if they become associated with others through loose alliances or unmoderated discussion.” Accordingly, in an attempt to preserve autonomy, the MPL tends not to share the material of other groups or engage in any discernible networking online. Consequently, its Facebook page remains independent and nonaligned, reflecting its values.

The most distinctive manifestation of the movement’s anarchist qualities online is its heavy promotion of place-based actions—events and protests. Such behavior is in keeping with established anarchist appropriation of the Internet, which is “primarily concerned with triggering in-person active support for campaigns, in other words for promoting off-line action” (Gilbert, 2008: 96; Pickerill, 2006: 231). Although anarchists have been known to denounce technology, they increasingly recognize that “the issue isn’t to decry and escape technology per se but to create and retain only technologies that serve human aims and potentials,” employing them “as appropriate” (Albert, 2001: 323). This supplementary role of the Internet was also reflected in comments by movement spokesperson Lucas Oliveira: “Social networks are a tool that can reflect your day-to-day work. Without groundwork, real organization, social networks won’t bring about anything” (quoted in Carlotto, 2013).

Finally, similarly to the MST, the MPL displays the discomfort that anticapitalist movements currently experience online. These groups regard the Internet as a capitalist arena “mediated by market consumption . . . watched by government intelligence” and dominated by traditional monopolies (Secco, 2013: 89). The MPL fears that overreliance on such platforms, particularly mainstream social networks, will bring it closer to capitalist elites and the risk of institutionalization. Despite its currently strong Facebook presence, its distaste for the capitalist roots of the platform was evident in a discussion with Lucas Oliveira: “Facebook . . . is not and does not aim to be a tool for social transformation. It is a capitalist company that appropriated technology originally created by the left” (Oliveira, 2013, quoted in Carlotto, 2013). Oliveira’s charge refers to Indymedia, a web site that was “fundamental” in the MPL’s formation and has been invaluable to antiglobalization movements the world over (Oliveira, 2013, quoted in Carlotto, 2013). Many consider the site “the pioneer” of Web 2.0, where content can be openly created and edited by contributors. Nowadays, however, with Facebook monopolizing Brazil’s new media scene (even killing off the once-favored Orkut), Indymedia has suffered a considerable decline in access, no longer offering sufficient opportunities for dissemination (Oliveira, 2013, cited in Carlotto, 2013). ⁵ Despite resenting Facebook for the demise of radical servers, the MPL’s core grudgingly utilizes the platform for its unparalleled visibility in communicating with working-class paulistas and other sympathizers. As Oliveira admitted, “as of 2011, Facebook became a phenomenon in Brazil. It became widely used by the working classes. Everybody has Facebook” (quoted in Carlotto, 2013). It is clear that social media attract the masses that support the free-fare struggle but may not necessarily relate so strongly to the MPL’s broader anticapitalist ideology. Nevertheless, as demonstrated by the June protests, these individuals are essential for creating visible impact and public pressure.

The MPL São Paulo’s collective identity or sense of group is rooted in its core of roughly 40 student members from the University of São Paulo (Roda Viva, 2013). Through studying at the same institution, many of the members have regular, if not daily, in-person contact. In this way, at least at its core the movement has an intense daily-life politics. In line with its anarchist principles, place-based direct actions are central to its collective identity (Saraiva, 2010: 68). MPL protests or “performances” are distinctive and often incorporate music, dance, and street theater as well as symbolic burning of turnstiles, disruption of transport lines, and police confrontation. The high-energy, theatrical nature of the protests and the high-risk situations protesters often face serve to strengthen feelings of unity among members. Considering the importance to the movement of collective experience, it is not surprising that the MPL shows little interest in community building or networking online, relying on new media simply as an organizational tool for more anarchist-appropriate acts. Furthermore, similarly to the MST, the movement avoids net activism such as online petitions. This approach not only conforms to anarchic values but also preserves the place-based community required for high-risk actions.

Although an association between the MPL and new media is often assumed, there is an incompatibility between certain platforms and the movement’s radical roots. This disputes prominent demographic theories that youth movements are intrinsically drawn to the Internet (Della Porta and Tarrow, 2005: 241; Welp and Wheatley, 2012: 181). Instead, like the MST’s, the MPL’s radical leftist identity makes it wary of new media, particularly dominant social networks, and cautious about overdependence on and institutionalization through intensive engagement online. Nevertheless, with radical servers failing to provide essential visibility, the movement carefully restricts its appropriation of new media, reconciling them with its radical roots by appropriating its web sites and dominant social media platforms in exclusively anarchist-appropriate ways.

By Way of Conclusion

In contrast to the cyberoptimism that followed recent waves of social-media-fueled collective action, the Brazilian radical left views new media as unreliable and supplementary. This stance is intrinsic to established movements but primarily a symptom of changing power relations online. By highlighting incompatibilities and movements’ consequent disengagement from such platforms, this paper nuances sensationalism regarding the democratic power of new media in Brazil in the aftermath of June 2013. Furthermore, these findings contribute empirical evidence against the too often assumed political neutrality of the Internet (Atton, 2004: 158).

Supported by new-social-movement theory, I have argued that place-based action and culture are essential for maintaining groups’ collective identities or activist communities. Both the MPL and, to a greater degree, the MST demonstrate this. It appears that, despite their popularity, new media fail to provide the intense shared experiences that are central for radical groups (Fenton and Barassi, 2011: 181; Touraine, 1978, cited in Gohn, 2009: 336; Van Aelst and Walgrave, 2004: 88). Whereas new media and particularly social media may serve to organize diverse, nonaligned, and ad hoc collective action in Brazil, their employment has significantly less value for established radical protest groups with existing communities.

Given the imbalance of power online today, anticapitalist social movements associate the Internet with hegemonic actors and capitalist adversaries. This negative association has resulted in a marked wariness of new media and particularly major social media platforms among the Brazilian radical left. Spokespersons for the MST and the MPL voiced their concerns about the international and capitalist control of the Internet and its impacts on online culture. This perception of new media leads movements to control, monitor, and restrict their use of these technologies, which risk an approximation to their adversaries, a degree of institutionalization, and a breach of their traditional trenches of resistance. This wariness counters the resurgent argument that the Internet represents a politically neutral or “autonomous” space favored by marginalized and alternative political actors (Castells, 2012: 10).

The current disenchantment of Brazil’s radical left with new media stands in stark contrast to the 1990s experience of the Zapatistas, who despite similar political leanings demonstrated great enthusiasm for Internet activism. However, the nascent new media of the 1990s were a very different product. Over the past two decades we have witnessed a shift in the Internet landscape marked by a decline of alternative servers and the domination of certain web sites and traditional media corporations (Oxford Internet, 2013). Furthermore, as demonstrated by the Brazilian 2014 elections (the most “online” election yet), traditional political actors have also vigorously embraced new media (Barifouse, 2014). Consequently, for radical groups, new media have ceased to foster the alternative, instead becoming a institutionalized arena—an extension of place-based reality—ruled by capitalist adversaries, imperialist powers, and mainstream political actors.

The discomfort of radical groups online raises questions about the cultural accessibility of new media today. In debates surrounding the democratic potential of these platforms, the greatest concern of scholars has traditionally been the obstacles to physical access to the Internet (Norris, 2001). However, both in Brazil and internationally this concern is slowly losing relevance. In its place, issues of net neutrality have emerged. At this critical point in the drafting of Internet legislation in Brazil and abroad, this experience of the Brazilian radical left emphasizes the importance of preserving the neutrality of the Internet and securing a public platform that serves for diverse political actors.