On "environmental sustainability" and housing rights

Yesterday, I was walking home from the gym with my fiance. We got to talking about my research here, which is always a contentious topic for the two of us. Like many middle to upper class Brazilians, my fiance has a deeply ingrained bias against the comunidades and their residents. As you are well aware by now, I have little tolerance for this sort of anti-urban poor mentality. On this particular occasion, we began to butt heads over the environmental argument in favor of evictions. "Favelados* desmatam!" my fiance scoffed. "Favela-residents deforest!" In a dramatic flourish, he then flung his gum wrapper into the canal that parallels our street.

The hypocrisy of his statements and actions speak for themselves. Sure, comunidade residents deforest and pollute. But, don't we all, in a way? Just because a construction company - and not I - felled the trees to build my home in New Orleans, does that abscond me of blame for having deforested the land? Or do I get off scott-free because I'm not residing on it "illegally"? How can a "legal" resident like my fiance accuse an "illegal" resident of polluting, and then proceed to toss his trash in a river? These are the sorts of questions that our short-lived discussion prompted me to explore. Let's take a look:

Up until the 1970s, the policies and programs of major multilateral lending agencies failed to incorporate human impact on the environment in their agendas. "Development" and "environmental preservation" were considered incompatible goals, and rapid industrialization was viewed as the primary means of bolstering economic growth. In Brazil in particular, import-substitution industrialization (ISI) encouraged the city-centric model of growth, and migrants from the rural Northeast began their mass exodus to the Southern metropolises of Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. The height of the ISI model in the mid-1960s also marked the peak of the immigration wave. Comunidade growth rates outpaced those of overall urban growth rates by as much as 7%, and by the end of the decade Rio de Janeiro had over 300 informal settlements. Because zoning regulations had prohibited construction at elevations above 100m, Rio's hillsides were largely undeveloped and became the logical settlements for rural migrants. Initially, the state government paid little mind to the environmental impacts of both industrialization and precarious urbanization. The result was an increasingly polluted city for which comunidade residents would increasingly bear the blame. Comunidades were seen as hotbeds of hygienic and environmental disaster, whose residents were responsible for creating the "subhuman" conditions in which they were condemned to live. Few subscribers of the view that comunidades were ulcers marring an otherwise pristine cityscape were cognizant of the fact that the proliferation of informality was an innovative response to a metropolis incapable of and unwilling to absorb the influx of migrants.

The interconnectedness of the environment, politics, urban planning was not articulated in earnest until the late 1970s, with the rise of the Green Revolution. The product of increased awareness of the inverse relationship between population growth and the abundance of natural resources (see: 1973 oil crisis), the Green Revolution has made significant, irreversible contributions to the field of international development. Today, one would be hard-pressed to find a post-1980 World Bank project, government grant proposal, or UN Charter that does not include the phrase "environmental sustainability." Ostensibly, the establishment of international and domestic standards for environmental preservation is a positive development, as it has become increasingly clear that human strain on the planet jeopardizes the future of the human race.

The Green Revolution has suggested that development and environmental sustainability are not mutually exclusive, and that countries should therefore embrace "green" development over "brown" development. But what does "environmental sustainability" actually imply? What are the benefits and consequences of "environmentally sustainable" development? Is there any segment of the population that may not benefit from environmental regulations?

In the case of Rio, the answer to this last question is, unfortunately, yes. This is not to suggest that environment-friendly policymaking has an inherent, unavoidable bias against a certain group of individuals. However, the trendiness of "environmental sustainability" in Brazil coupled with its predominantly middle and upper-class proponents makes it an excellent rationale for forced evictions. Using the guise of "environmental risk," as outlined in the Lei Organica do Municipio, the municipal government can thereby harness support of Cariocas like my fiance, who believe that "favelados" degrade, pollute, and destroy.

The problem is, this argument is both hypocritical and discriminatory. Let's once again consider the case of Vila Autodromo, a community slated for removal because of its "environmental risk." What is the difference between the comunidade resident who constructs his humble, self-built home on Lake Jacarepagua, and the resident of a 20-story "legal" condominium some 500 meters away? Both constructions are located within the same radius  from the water's edge, both required some degree of deforestation, and both produce some degree of water-borne pollution. Yet, invariably, the "illegal" resident gets stuck with the blame, despite the fact that in most cases, his house predates the "legally" constructed condominium.

May 29th, 2011 storm that damaged the coastal boundaries
of  wealthy Zona Sul neighborhoods.
Photo credit: itapoapordentro.blogspot.com

Furthermore, the "environmental risk" clause is vague in nature. Who poses the risk to whom? Do the comunidade residents pose a risk to themselves, or to the "legal" residents of the surrounding "formal" neighborhoods? The municipal government's decision to raze Autodromo appears to have been predicated on latter; Autodromo's inhabitants have been accused of polluting the lake and deforesting the surrounding area, thereby sullying the region for the "legal" residents. The environmental hazards Autodromo residents confer upon themselves are negligible; the area has not experienced any significant flooding in residents' memory, natural soil filtration is used to purify sewage, and community's flat terrain presents zero risk for a landslide. If the municipal government is truly concerned about "environmental risk," perhaps they should consider relocating the wealthy neighborhoods of Ipanema, Arpoador -which are projected to be the areas most adversely affected by rising sea levels. 

The use of the environment to further criminalize informality seems even more dubious when one considers the average carbon footprint of a comunidade resident. They use public transportation, bicycles, and foot to commute. Cooling is usually provided by fans, not central air. Light, electricity, and water use is kept to a minimum. Yet, it's perfectly acceptable for the upper class Carioca who chastizes "aqueles favelados" for putting strain on the environment to hop in his car (despite living in an area well-serviced by mass transit), blast the AC, and drive home to his condominium where he will be greeted by a water-guzzling fountain illuminated by 24-hour exterior lighting. This sort of "fair-weather environmentalism" is hypocritical and self-serving; as Edesio mentioned this week in class, "I wonder what percent of Cariocas who clamored for the construction of "eco-limit" walls around Dona Marta have ever set foot in the Tijuca Rainforest preserve."

Lastly, it is abhorrent that the municipal government is insinuating that "environmental sustainability" should be prioritized over housing, livelihoods, and the preservation of social networks for comunidade residents. The hierarchy of needs of Eduardo Paes does not mirror the hierarchy of needs of someone living in Vila Autodromo, and the right to four walls and a roof trumps the prefeitura's right to reconstruct Rio de Janeiro as a playground for the wealthy and the powerful.

I pollute. I have contributed to deforestation. And I have definitely peed in a lake. But, because I am not living informally, I have not been criminalized for my actions. Until the municipal government and its clientelistic elite cronies agree to share the blame for environmental degradation, and until they cease to use the it as an excuse to forcibly evict, I will refuse to subscribe to their definition of "environmental sustainability."

*This is a pejorative term for a comunidade resident

History speaks volumes

I recognize that very often, I am guilty of failing to consider the impact of Brazilian history on the country's current social, economic, and political realities. Recalling the several hundred years' worth of events that transpired from Portuguese colonization to independence involves dusting off approximately the same number of cobwebs in my brain, so I was quite pleased to hear that our first class would be a crash course in the country's history.

As my research is on impact of extremely temporal events (The World Cup and the Olympics) on the Brazilian urban poor, I tend to focus my efforts on analyzing the current developments in law, politics, and social movements that are related to evictions. I need to constantly remind myself that while the municipal government's policy on comunidade removals is new, the rationale for it is not. In fact, the legal-political systems that are in place in today have much in common with the legal-political systems established by the 1824 Constitution - Brazil's first.

Therefore, we are looking at nearly 200 years of Brazilian property law favoring the individual over the collective, the rich over the poor, and the land-owner over the squatter. The result of such long-standing exclusionary policies is not pretty. 60% of the land is now is owned by a mere 3% of the population. 50%-80% of urban development is "informal" development. Land speculation and property value increases are among the highest in the world. "White eviction" in the city centers drives urban poor en masse to the distant, underserviced periphery. Although the federal government is investing an unprecedented amount of funds in urban development, sociospatial segregation continues unabated. The country's housing deficit stands at 7 million units, yet there are 5.5 million vacant or under-used properties. How on earth did this happen, and why has nothing changed?

Interestingly, concentrated land ownership and latifundio favoritism were not original tenets of the Portuguese colonizers. After signing the Treaty of Tordesillas, Portugal realized it may have overestimated its ability to populate the country at a speed that could outpace British, French, and Dutch invasions. The solution to foreign occupation of Portuguese territory was - in the eyes of Portugal - legalizing "land grabbing." Contrary to what Brazilian property law dictates today, in the 1500s, it was perfectly acceptable to occupy a tract of land without having documented legal ownership, as long as the land was being used for social or economic gain. In other words, in the early stages of Portuguese colonialism in Brazil, land ownership and land occupation were one and the same.

The initial acceptance of these early "squatters" and possession rights began to wane in 1850, with the passage of the 1850 Land Law, which legalized the registration of unoccupied tracts of land. This law undermined the previous property laws, which granted possession in exchange for productive occupation of the land. Now, citizens could buy up hectares of land at a time and claim legal rights, without the inconvenience of having to live on, till, or otherwise develop the land.

As Edesio summarized in class, "The 1850 Land Law effectively created the exclusionary, violent, and segregated state" we see in Brazil today. It has created a legacy of speculation, land concentration, and privatization of public space that continues to plague the country, while substantiating politics that favor a handful of landowning elites over the collective interest of the masses.

This favoritism has been irreversible and self-perpetuating for several reasons. One of the most visible reasons is, as I have discussed, is the clientelism within Brazilian political systems (see: Eike Batista and Sergio Cabral) A less obvious reason, as Edesio pointed out, is that most Brazilian lawyers receive an education that emphasizes the importance of conformity over creativity, and individual rights over collective rights. The result is generation after generation of lawyers who prefer to adhere to - not challenge - the status quo. Thus, newer, more progressive legal instruments are often tossed to the gutter, while antiquated laws remain in place.

This last point is critical. The problem is not that Brazil lacks the legal framework to enact good urban policy, it's that the policies it has enacted cater almsot exclusively the interests of the elite, and not those of the working class. A great number of laws - thousands, Edesio estimates - have been passed regarding land use, property rights, and possession, many of which are "excellent" and "ground-breaking", such as the 2001 City Statute , or the Zones of Special Social Interest. Many of these instruments, when envoked, can empower, benefit and legally "formalize" the "informal" poor. They can grant usucapiao (adverse possession), allow for land titling of informal settlements, and stipulate that abandoned buildings in city centers be used to re-settle evicted residents. However, the "informal" poor do not fund the electoral campaigns, do not loan out private jets at will, and otherwise do not serve the interests of Brazilian politicians. The antiquated legal system remains ingrained; a self-replicating cycle of conservatively-educated lawyers, clientelism, and narrow, self-serving interpretations of legislature.

And here we are today, in 2011, confronted with a very different set of problems than the Brazilians of centuries past. External threats have been replaced by internal threats, and instead of fearing invasions by the French and the British, the Brazilian government fears invasions by its own citizens. (Indeeed, the word invasor has become synonymous with favelado - a pejorative term used to refer to a person who lives in an "informal" settlement). However, the most basic problem - land - remains the same. Speculation, mega-events, and concentrated land ownership have combined to produce a perfect storm; one in which the government is able to expropriate land - or at the very least, control it - for its own gain. As the Brazilian government wages war on its own citizens for control of the comunidades either by occupations (see: UPPs) or by forcible eviction, the urban poor become more and more marginalized.

The most nefarious aspect of this war is its subtlety. Government programs which may seem innocuous at first glance - such as Minha Casa Minha Vida - reinforce the popular notion that the poor belong on the periphery by providing government-subsidized housing only in the farthest reaches of the city proper. The UPPs, extolled by the media and the municipal government alike, exercise a perverse form of cultural genocide on the comunidades they "serve" by banning baile funk parties, harassing anyone who looks "suspicious (read: young, black, male), and - in the most extreme cases - assassinating innocent citizens.

So, what is to be done? It seems as though a significant re-hauling of the political-legal system is in order. This new system must provide incentives for politicians to enact the plethora of laws that have already been establish to protect marginalized citizens, encourage legal professionals to adopt more flexible interpretations of pre-existing legislation, and - above all - demonstrate that what is good for the rich is, ultimately, also what is good for the rich.