The road to the third time

The sequence of events surrounding former president Michelle Bachelet begins more or less in the summer of 2025. The presidential campaign is underway. The polls give first place to Evelyn Matthei, followed at a considerable distance by Bachelet, José Antonio Kast, and Johannes Kaiser. Except that Bachelet is not a candidate. But in those days she recalls, almost in passing, that the president of Brazil, Lula, told her that a third presidential run is fun, that he enjoyed his in 2022. Donald Trump has just won his second election in the United States. Lula does not yet know how thankless his third presidency will be. Although Lula's incitement seems quite serious, Bachelet maintains an ambiguity that paralyzes Democratic Socialism, especially the person who could be its best representative, minister Carolina Tohá. Toward the middle of the year, Bachelet pivots toward another interest: the UN Secretary-Generalship, a post that will be chosen, probably, toward the end of 2026. Chilean and non-Chilean friends tell her that her candidacy would be a success, that many at UN headquarters miss her. It seems a good place to endure the bitter taste of having had to abandon a third presidential campaign in Chile. The idea is also backed by Lula, who becomes her main promoter in Latin America. Never before had Brazil had such influence in Chile. But Bachelet does not stir much. Her in pectore campaign chief, Paula Narváez, conveys enthusiastic prospects, but more activity would be needed. Bachelet seems comfortable with the international conferences to which she devotes a good part of her time. Some in the know say that from this sluggishness also stems the delay in talking with the right-wing parties, which becomes harder when Evelyn Matthei's lead begins to shrink, and in the end nobody ever does anything. In President Boric's circle they say it does not matter, that the right will be forced to support her. Nor does anyone attach importance to the fact that one of the five "super-electors" with veto power, Trump's United States, intends to dismantle all the functions and agencies that Bachelet would want to expand. The chances of overriding that veto are equal to zero. The promoters trust that she will achieve the nine votes that could challenge (though not annul) the veto. Kast wins the elections at the end of 2025 and takes more than three months to inform Bachelet that he will not support her. In reality, there is no other possibility. Neither Kast's electorate, nor his parties, nor the somewhat harsher discursive circuit of the new government leave open the option of supporting a figure who by then has come to occupy the center of their denunciations, even more than the Frente Amplio. For that right, the Frente Amplio is like a generational accident, which will end up being absorbed into a portion of radical left ("neomirista," as Pablo Ortúzar calls it) and a couple of portions of historical socialism; therefore, the permanent adversary is the PS; at least, Bachelet's PS. Bachelet has indeed perceived this climate. Already during the campaign she has begun to worry about the right's turn against her second government, whose most notorious measures—tax reform, education reform, immigration—are associated with the poor state of public finances, state overspending, and the climate of insecurity, all central themes of Kast's campaign. No self-criticism? Nonsense. That is done in private. Bachelet rejects the compensations Kast offers her. For many years now she has also not gotten along with those who contradict her; that stage of her life sinks into the fog of the past. At the end of July, the first straw poll takes place, the informal secret vote among the candidates for UN Secretary-General. The surprise is more than bad: only six of fifteen votes, fourth place. In August comes the next one: two votes, seventh place. The candidacy is deflated. For Lula it carries a certain cost, but not much, to acknowledge a failure in the middle of a presidential campaign; he leaves it in Bachelet's hands. The president of Mexico, Claudia Sheinbaum, is tougher: she delays as long as she can in receiving her and makes clear that Mexico is without a candidate. In a decision that only the infatuation of pride can explain, Bachelet submits to the third straw poll, where she obtains a single vote. Angry, hurt, offended, she finally decides to announce the withdrawal of her candidacy. She does not expect anyone to say she is wounded and will heal at home. In the following weeks, she repeats over and over that she does not intend to retire. Perhaps she wants to deprive the right of a pleasure, but in reality she paralyzes the left... three years before the next presidential election. Just a few days later she signs with Boric a declaration calling for Chile's withdrawal from the Escudo de las Américas, an unusual intervention in the exclusive powers of the Head of State; it may be the announcement that she will be a gadfly for Kast. Boric also—can't you see? it is the left that treats her as if she were wounded—accompanies her to a public act of vindication in La Pintana, where the applause is divided between the two in similar volumes. That cannot please her either. And then comes the third-time thing, just as Lula ends his third presidency in failure. This third time, would it be against Boric? In that case, she probably will not do it. She would not want to divide the left, nor destroy her creation. If she runs, it will be because Boric steps aside. Between the two of them they cover the meadow. Once again Carolina Tohá considers the timing inadequate. It is a déjà vu in reverse, from the past to the future. There will be no renewal on the left. NEWSLETTEROpinionSaturday, AMTense ideas, opposing views, and clear analysis: elements to unravel the issues that divide opinions and will set the agenda. By subscribing you are accepting the Terms and Conditions and Privacy Policies of La Tercera.