Ongoing protest against the destruction of Plaza Americo Brum

This morning, residents of Rio's oldest comunidade, Morro de Providencia, gathered around Plaza Americo Brum to protest its destruction by the municipal government. Part of the "Morar Carioca" (Rio Resident Living) initiative, the plaza's destruction marks the beginning of the installation of the Providencia teleferico, which I blogged about last week.

As of now, residents have succeeded in delaying the Plaza's demolition. In doing, so, however, residents were subject to intimidation tactics and were denied access to Plaza - which is a public, open space -by the police who staff the community's very own UPP.

As the Pela Moradia (For the Right to Housing) blog explains,

Hoje, pela manhã, os moradores haviam programado um café da manhã, como uma forma de protestar contra o fim da praça Américo Brum... Entretanto, com a ajuda de policiais da UPP local, os responsáveis pela obras invadiram a praça e a cercaram, impedindo a entrada dos moradores.

This morning, the residents [of Providencia] had scheduled a breakfast [in the Plaza] as a means of protesting the demise of Plaza America Brum...However, with the help of police from the area's UPP, those responsible for the construction [of the teleferico] invaded the Plaza and surrounded it, impeding the entry of residents.

Like most mega-event-related construction, the project's blueprint has not been made available to the public, has incorporated no amount of community involvement, and will displace hundreds of families. The Plaza's unfortunate fate undermines laws which protect against destruction of property which serves "a social function", and circumnavigates legal instruments which forbid preemption, the destruction of "patrimonio" (property of cultural and historical significance) and the privatization of public space (here, it should be noted that Brazil's transit system is privately-held).

Furthermore, the destruction of the Plaza coincides with the height of winter vacation for Brazilian public school students, meaning that Providencia youth will have no leisure area in which to play and socialize. There has been no talk of when - or if - the Plaza will be reconstructed elsewhere.

If you want to see photos of the ongoing protest, Viva Rio's Viva Favela website has several.

"E so para gringo ver"

Today, President Dilma Roussef announced that the Complexo do Alemao, the sprawling conglomeration of 13 comunidade's in Rio's North Zone, "has everything it needs to become a tourist attraction."

Roussef's remarks come after her inaugural ride on the 6-station teleferico last week. The President expressed pride and hopefulness when asked about the recent Accelerated Growth Program (PAC) upgrading that has taken place in the Complexo since it was occupied by the military last fall, stating:

"O PAC está mudando a vida no Complexo do Alemão. Por isso, para mim foi motivo de orgulho fazer a viagem inaugural do teleférico, passando pelas seis estações do Complexo do Alemão. A subida do morro passou a ser feita com conforto, com segurança e em apenas 15 minutos - disse. - O Complexo do Alemão tem tudo para se transformar em um ponto turístico." "The Program for Accelerated Growth is changing lives in the Complexo do Alemao. So, for me, accompanying the teleferico's first voyage filled me with pride, passing through the six stations of the Complexo do Alema. The climb up the hill can now be done with comfort, security, and within 15 minutes. The Complexo do Alemao has all it needs to become a tourist destination."

One of the 6 teleferico stations in Alemao. All are located on
summits of the hills that comprise the Complexo. Photo credit: R7

Dilma went on to claim that 85,000 people will directly benefit from the installation of the teleferico. Who these 85,000 people will be is anyone's guess. Certainly, they are not the 85,000 residents of the comunidade. And why not, you ask? Well: If you pay a visit to the Complexo to inspect the newly-installed teleferico, you will notice something odd. The six stations Dilma mentions are all located at the summits of hills on which they stand, meaning that a resident who lives toward the middle or bottom of the hill would need to walk all the way up to the top to access the transport system. Is the government truly suggesting that a Complexo resident will embrace the addition of a 20-minute hike (and possibly a BRL $3 expense) to his morning commute, when he could....walk down the hill...for free? Given that the Complexo's hills are already serviced with "moto-taxis" (motorcyle taxis) and "combis" (small privately-owned vans), commuting back up the hill at the end of the day via the teleferico also seems like an unlikely undertaking for a resident. Additionally, a resident of the hill constituting the teleferico's last stop would seemingly have to travel across the six other hills to get to his destination. Would he not opt for a moto-taxi, foot, or combi from the base of his respective hill? Does this commute revision really save him time? Or money?*

In light of the mega-event-related revitalization of Rio's Port Zone, the municipal government is pitching a similar argument in favor of an identical teleferico in the Morro de Providencia. The installation of the teleferico will force the eviction of up to 300 families, prompting further speculation about who the true beneficiaries of the transport system truly are.


Having spoken to residents of both communities, it seems clear that the telefericos will not be used largely among Providencia and Complexo families. Cost, inappropriate positioning of stations, and "e so para gringo ver (it's just for tourists to see) were all cited by residents as proof that the system has not been catered to their needs. Additionally, it is notable that community residents underscore the importance of educational and job opportunities, healthcare access, and proper sanitation over the installation of the teleferico.


E so para gringo ver, indeed.

*in an interview with leading political scientist Maria Helena Moreira Alves, I was informed that Providencia residents will have free access to the teleferico only for the initial two months after the inauguration.

The Incredible Hypocrisy of Everything

Some people have a talent for framing the obvious in a way that makes it seem novel. In class today, Edesio verbalized a hypocrisy of Rio's urban landscape that I had never considered: the fact that city's mitochondria - the "informal" landholders - helped build Rio de Janeiro from the ground up, but are prohibited from exercising their "right to the city".

What did Edesio mean by this? The case of Favela do Metro, which I visited today, serves as the perfect paradigm for Edesio's theory.

Favela do Metro, as seen from Av. Marechal Rondon. Note that Metro is
physically separated from Mangueira by the traintracks.
Photo credit: O Globo

Favela do Metro, lies on thin strip of land straddled by Avendia 24 de Maio on one side, and the SuperVia train tracks on the other. At first glance, it appears that Favela do Metro is a row of ground-level structures comprising the foot of the massive hillside Mangueira comunidade (see photo, left). In fact, Favela do Metro is its own separate neighborhood, with a different past, and a very different fate than its upstairs neighbor.


Unlike Vila Autodromo, Favela do Metro residents live on privately-owned land. This is somewhat unusual tenure situation for a comunidade in Rio, and it has its roots in the construction of the second line (Linha 2) of Rio's metro system. When work on the new line began in the late 1970s, cheap labor was brought into the city from the countryside by the now privately-held MetroRio. These migrant workers were not provided with on-site housing, and thus constructed their own makeshift homes on a nearby plot of land. When the project was completed, some workers abandoned the area and returned to the country, while others remained and converted the flimsy structures into more permanent housing. Vacant houses were either occupied by "invasores" ("invaders"), or purchased outright on the informal market from their original owners.


Favela do Metro is currently undergoing a process of forced eviction by the municipal government in preparation for the Olympic Games and the World Cup. Because of its extreme proximity to Maracana, which will host the soccer matches for both events, Metro lies within the "security perimeter" that the municipal government is establishing around the stadium. Although the Municipal Housing Office's (SMH) official rationale for the community's removal has been vague, the generally accepted belief among Metro residents is that the government does not want tourists to come face-to-face with the realities of poverty. The solution, therefore, is to once again esconder a sujeira debaixo da tapete - literally, "hide the dirt under the rug".


As in Vila Autodromo (see last month's series of post on this community's struggle), the SMH entered Favela do Metro and grafittied the facades of each house with their blue insignia. Residents were forced to sign papers confirming the expropriation of their houses by the government, and were told to make a split-second decision regarding their fates: accept, or decline, the government's compensation proposal.


Many accepted. Of approximately 900 original families, community leader Franci tells us, nearly half have already left Favela do Metro. Most have gone either to Minha Casa Minha Vida housing projects in Cosmos. Let me take this opportunity to remind you that it is common knowledge that the Cosmos projects are dominated by the militia, poorly-served by public transportation and more than 50km away from Favela do Metro. Other families have been relocated to the nearby Mangueira 1 residence, a social housing project provided via the state's Morar Carioca (Live Like a Rio-Dweller) iniative. We visited Mangueira 1 together with Franci after she led us on a walking tour of Metro. Mangueira 2 (identical to Mangueira 1), is being constructed nearby, and will house any remaining Metro residents who agree to sign the government's eviction papers. While Franci says Mangueira 1 is "highly preferable" to Minha Casa Minha Vida housing, she underscores that the best option would be for residents to remain right where they are. It should be noted here that unlike some other evictees, Favela do Metro residents are not compensated financially, and instead are offered housing in the Mangeuira or Minha Casa Minha Vida residences in exchange for their homes. Although the municipal government promised residents that they would subsidize rent in both Minha Casa Minha Vida and the Mangueira residences, Franci tells me that this money has yet to materialize. Instead, displaced residents are paying rent and utilities out of their own pockets.


And what of residents who do not view Minha Casa Minha Vida nor Mangueira 1 apartments as a fair trade for their current homes? What of residents who refused the government's quid pro quo? These residents - some 300 families - have remained in Favela do Metro, watching over there homes day in and day out with the hope that their on-site presence will preclude the destruction of their homes by the SMH. They have refused to bow to government, and will not accept relocation to Minha Casa Minha Vida as an option. As Mangueira 2 is only scheduled to be completed in November, the prospect of homelessness looms for these families; Franci informed us that the SMH has threatened to bulldoze the remaining homes as early as this weekend.


On our walk, we see a young woman standing alone in a field of rubble. Her gaze is set on the one home in our field of vision that remains standing; a two-story brick house nestled under an overpass. Newly-stray cats and dogs (Minha Casa Minha Vida housing prohibits pets) circle her feet, hoping for a handout.


We stop to talk to her. I ask her how long she has been here. I meant today, now, standing here alone. She interprets my question differently. "Since January", she says. She appears to acknowledge my quizzical eyebrow-raise, and adds, "I left my job in January to stay and watch over the house, so that they [the SMH] don't come and destroy it". She goes on to explain that although her family has accepted the government's resettlement offer and has moved to Mangueira 1, she still wants to keep a watchful eye on the home she left behind. I ask her where she will go when her house is demolished. "Talvez Mangueira," she says. "Maybe Mangueira (the comunidade). "Sei la," she adds. "I don't really know".


I press her for more details on the living conditions at Mangueira 1. Overall, she says, it is "okay". The biggest downfall is that regardless of size, families receive the same size unit, which consists of two rooms and a kitchen area. While the Mangueira units may be an upgrade in terms of size for some, many comunidade families had at least 6 members living in the same house (often with two or more stories). For these families, the move to Mangueira has resulted in severely cramped living quarters.


We continue our walk.


I had always assumed that evictions take place quickly, completely, and thoroughly. Bulldozers enter, knock down all of the "informal" structures, and leave. This has not been the case in Favela do Metro; much to the contrary, the SMH has adopted a strategy of what Metro residents call "minando" - literally "land-mining". "Minando" is the real-world manifestation of the children's game of Battleship, in which a player destroys his opponent's boats one at a time with the objective of eventually dismantling the entire fleet. In Battleship, there is no fun to be had in bombing all of your enemy's boats at once; the game would end quickly and there would be a fuss. Similarly, instead of taking out Favela do Metro in one fell swoop, the SMH has chosen to demolish only a handful of houses with each bulldozing. In some instances, homes have been left half-standing, with one side completely destroyed and the other perfectly intact. Why? Because - like Battleship - there is a certain appeal in backing your enemy into a corner and forcing him to surrender. Apart from making one's victory all the more gratifying, the "minando" strategy has the added benefit of having a "smoking out" effect on any residents who refuse to cede their homes.


How does this "smoking out" strategy manifest itself in Favela do Metro? It's not pretty, I can tell you that. What I saw this afternoon was nothing short of appalling. Mounds of rubble left behind by SMH bulldozers have created squalid conditions for the remaining residents. Cockroaches, rats, and mosquitoes can be seen swarming around the gaping holes in the ground where houses used to stand. The air reeks of human waste, the result of what Franci describes as "crackheads" using the half-demolished houses as drug dens. As the rubble pile-up has interfered with water drainage, ominous, algae-filled puddles have appeared on the sides of the becos - breeding grounds for dengue and leptospiorsis. The rubble-piles have also become the area's de-facto landfill, as other parties have taken to dumping their own trash on top of the heaps of wreckage.


There is also the issue of security. Franci brings us to the house of Eomar Freitas, one of the residents who has chosen to remain behind to watch over his home. I assume that, like the young woman we spoke to earlier in the visit, he means that he thinks his physical presence in the house will preclude an SMH bulldozing. He corrects me. He keeps watch over his home to dissuade potential thieves. "I've been robbed five times in five months," Eomar explains. "They took speakers, the air conditioner - even a glass window from the wall!" Eomar is not sure who is responsible for the theft of his property, but he is positive that the collapse of security within the community is due to the sporadic eviction process. "This place is a ghost town now, no one is left on the streets," he laments, adding that Metro never had a problem with breaking and entering prior to the SMH bulldozings. Eomar ends his diatribe by telling us that he sleeps in his empty house (his family has moved many belongings elsewhere, but what they left behind has been stolen), alone, every night.


Like Vila Autodromo's situation, Favela do Metro's eviction is laden with questionably legal justifications. But unlike Vila Autodromo, Favela do Metro residents do not hold title deeds, and they do not live on public land. This renders their legal case against removal different in nature, because by Brazilian law, informal residents occupying privately-held land cannot petition for concession of real right to housing (a legal instrument Brizola may have leveraged in order to grant titles to Autodromo residents). Instead, Metro residents wishing to file a lawsuit would have to try to win on the grounds of usucapiao - or adverse possession granted after 5-15 years of "illegal" occupation of private land. Usucapiao is notoriously difficult to demonstrate in court. Given that the municipal government mysteriously "re-assigned" public defenders assigned to communities threatened by removal, the chances of a successful class action lawsuit look slim.


After the visit was over, I walked back toward the metro station with another researcher. I thought about what Edesio had said in class, about the city's hypocritical exclusion of those who keep it running. I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that I had just visited a community which made possible the very transport system that had brought me to see it. A community of rail workers, maids, bus drivers, doormen. A community now being exiled from the very city it helped to create and continues to sustain.

CPI das Remocoes (Parliamentary Eviction Investigation) update

Today, in "head, meet desk" news:

The vote in the Camara Municipal last week in favor of a judicial investigation (CPI) into the legality of mega-event-related forced removals has been overturned. Why? Because apparently, five of the city council members rescinded their signatures from the CPI petition, on the grounds that they "did not read it".

Undocumented reading disabilities, or clientelism? You be the judge.

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.

I'll be a fake lawyer for the next two weeks.

Tomorrow, I will begin auditing two courses on Brazilian urban management law at Fundacao Getulio Vargas (FGV). The courses are offered jointly through FGV and Tulane Law School, the umbrella institution for my masters program in International Development.

Both course will cover urban land policy vis-a-vis mega-event preparations in Rio de Janeiro, and will include lectures on Lefebrve's "right to the city", the 1988 Constitution, land titling, and the groundbreaking City Statute. I have the tremendous windfall of being taught by highly venerated property lawyer Edesio Fernandes, a man whose work I have admired for some time here in Brazil. So, hopefully I'll have some interesting perspectives to take away and share with you in the next few days.

Stay tuned.

Some final words on the forced removal of Vila Autodromo (Part 6 of 6)

“Sweeping Dirt Under the Rug”

The consequences of forced evictions have been widely publicized. Amnesty International, UN-HABITAT, and the Coalition on Housing Rights and Evictions (COHRE) have all released numerous reports directly linking evictions to the replication of poverty.

Families rendered homeless by South African World Cup
evictions. Photo Credit: Reuters

In post-World Cup South Africa, evictees were stripped of their livelihoods and saddled with unemployment. In the case of Rio de Janeiro, a city which lists poverty eradication as one of its top goals, the evidence that forced removals promote the reproduction of poverty should be cause for concern. Instead, Paes’ short-sighted policies ignore the economic argument against razings and embrace removals and poorly- compensated relocations, despite the documented objections of the aforementioned international organizations. Residents refer to this untenable method of confronting poverty as an attempt to “esconder sujeira debaixo do tapete” (“sweep dirt under the rug”), an idiom tailor-made for describing the government’s efforts to obscure the unglamorous reality of poverty from the watchful gaze of FIFA, the IOC, and the media.

In cases where evictees are provided with subsidized Minha Casa Minha Vida housing, only the cost of monthly rent is assumed by the government. Evictees are expected to contribute a “symbolic fee” of $50 Brazilian reais per month toward the purchase of a home which, in many cases, is in inferior in quality to their previous residences. Of course, this fee does not include any additional monetary imposition placed upon residents by the militia in exchange for utility provision (in one case, reported to be in excess of $100 reais) and “protection¹.” When one considers the economic and social costs of relocating to a Minha Casa Minha Vida residence, it comes as little surprise that some residents have already sold their units and moved out. However, it has been anonymously reported that the militia also extort a 20% “sales tax” from any resident who wishes to vacate his or her apartment² With a lack of affordable housing options and little left in their pockets after effectively financing their own relocation, it is likely that those who abandon the apartments will either resettle in other informal settlements or create entirely new ones. Clearly, such a relocation strategy contributes to - rather than combats - poverty.

In one of the worst possible examples of the government’s failure to provide adequate housing options to its residents, 74 families were driven from their Minha Casa Minha Vida apartments in the West Zone of Rio by the militia, with the apparent aim of reselling the units and pocketing the profits. Where the 74 families rendered homeless by the militia have gone is unclear.

Fatal landslides in the Serrana Region. Photo credit: UOL

The Fallacious “Risk” Argument
While the government continues to carry out evictions predicated on the “environmental risk” clause, the 840 deaths caused by the recent landslides in Rio’s mountainous Serrana region call into question the true motives behind mega-event-related removals. The Serrana disaster was an instance of real, demonstrated environmental risk, and one that also could have been avoided had the government acknowledged the precarious location of the region’s hillside comunidades and provided safer housing options. That the government instead has chosen to allocate funds and resources to removing communities such as Vila Autodromo - which lies on flat and has not had a significant flood in residents’ memory - while simultaneously failing to take measures to prevent the biggest climate-related disaster in Brazilian history is an unconscionable hypocrisy.

A Final Word
Toward the end of my visit to Vila Autodromo, community leader Jane tells me that the residents are not categorically opposed to relocation, nor the mega-events that their city will host. Rather, she explains, they are against the municipal government’s top-down removal process that fails to consider the voices of the affected residents and manipulates the laws designed to protect them.

The stories relayed to me residents of several different communities facing removal corroborate Jane’s accusations. They include allegations of zero-notice removals, children forced to sign evictions papers when adults are absent, relocations to areas up to 50km away, verbal abuse and physical threats, and unfulfilled promises of compensation. As professor Christopher Gaffney explains, the mega-event preparation is “very authoritarian, top-down, with no public audiences, no democratic participation - and it’s going to change the city forever.”

For the Seu Franciscos of the city, it seems like the changes will be for the worse.

1. A resident of a Minha Casa Minha Vida apartment, who wished to remain anonymous, quoted a price of BRL $15/month for 

   the milicia's "security tax"

2. The same resident quoted the 20% “sales tax” figure in the same interview

Some good news

This Wednesday during a session at the Camara Municipal, something unexpected happened. The city council voted in favor of a legal investigation - called a CPI - of mega-event related evictions.

Spearheaded by populist council member Eliomar Coelho (PSOL), the CPI (an investigation led by the legislative branch) vote is a critical step in formally calling into question the legality of the removals. 19 city council members - or nearly half those who were present - voted in favor of a CPI of the comunidade evictions. As only 17 votes were necessary to instate the CPI, the two additional "pro" votes demonstrate that there may be significant opposition to the removals within the council.

A [somewhat blurry] photo of us in the Camara Municipal.
Photo credit: Nelma Gusmao

In addition to investigating the legal framework used to justify the evictions and relocations, the CPI will, according to Coelho, examine removals which may violate cultural rights (for example, the destruction of Candomble houses in Vila Harmonia) and environmental protection legislation.

I attended the city council's Wednesday session together with a cohort of other like-minded researchers, as well as community leaders and residents of Vila Autodromo. We were initially told, upon entry, that such a large group of "protesters" would not be permitted to enter the Camara. On pulling out a camera to videotape our denied entry, however (the vote is open to the public as long as proper ID can be produced for each attendee), the guard at the door immediately rethought his decision. We were allowed in, and seated ourselves on the second-floor balcony. Banners in favor of the CPI and against the removals were unfurled, after initially being told they could not be displayed.

One by one, the city council members took to the stand to present their rationale for or against the CPI. Several speeches provoked thunderous applause and cries of approval from the balcony. In particular, Sonia Rabello (PV), Theresa Bergher (PSDB), and Coelho were received extremely positively by the community residents present.

Despite the currents of excitement, hope, and pride which ran through the auditorium after those on the balcony were informed that the council had voted in favor of the CPI, community leaders have some reservations. As Jane Nascimento explained to me when I visited her in Vila Autodromo the day after the vote, many worry that the final few council members who signed the petition may have done so solely for the purpose of securing comunidade votes in future municipal elections. Besides a possible lack of resolve among the final signatories, Nascimento also fears that the corruption endemic among the ranks of the municipal government might preclude a thorough investigation.

Interestingly, Leonel Brizola Neto (PDT), the eponymous grandson of the progressive ex-governor who granted Vila Autodromo its titles, voted against the CPI.

If you want to read more about the investigation (and can read a lick of Portuguese), Coelho lays out his brainchild in detail on his personal website, here.

The Blame Game

Part 5 in a 6-part series on the removal of Vila Autodromo

While at first glance, the apparent community-razing culprits are Eduardo Paes and the Municipal Housing Office (SMH), all of the blame cannot be placed on Rio’s government. FIFA, which spearheads the World Cup, and the International Olympic Committee (IOC), responsible for the organization of the Olympic Games, are equally guilty of fueling the comunidade removals. The involvement of municipal government in the razings is motivated largely by FIFA and the IOC’s need to ensure revenue from their respective events, as well as guarantee their continued marketability once the events are over. Both of these goals are complicit in the municipal government’s decision to remove certain communities and relocate residents with little or no compensation.

Eduardo Paes and FIFA's General Secretary Jermome Valke.
Photo Credit: O Globo

The ultimate goal of profit generation is the most obvious scapegoat. After all, FIFA and the IOC are, at heart, private enterprises which have the shared goal of walking away from their respective mega-events with a hefty profit. As Alan Maiden, a South African professor of urban planning recently explained in a debate on the impact of mega-events on host cities, FIFA pocketed over $3 billion from last year’s World Cup - nearly half the total profit of the event. In order to guarantee an equally attractive profit in 2014 and 2016, FIFA and the IOC impose strict prerequisites on host cities which ensure a positive consumer experience. Namely, the organizations mandate that a certain number of hotels, tourist venues, stadiums, and transportation hubs be in place prior to hosting the mega-events. In order to execute the massive infrastructural overhaul that these events require, it follows that some residents might have to be relocated. Again, however, it is by and large low-income and informal areas that are the most adversely effected by event-related development. In the much rarer case of forced removal of a “legal” housing unit, compensation is ample and delivered in a timely manner. As Dr. Christopher Gaffney, a visiting professor of urbansim at Rio’s Universidade Federal Fluminense explained to me in a recent interview, “Eduardo Paes has promised to personally deliver monetary compensation to residents with government-honored legal tenure.” In many cases, these residents will emerge with a profit.

The second tie that FIFA and the IOC have to the removals is the desire of both entities to operate within a city which appears clean, non-violent, and poverty-free in international media coverage. This need is almost certainly the rationale for the municipal government’s creation of the aforementioned “security perimeter”, which now serves as the explanation for the removal of Vila Autodromo and countless other comunidades. Even in Atlanta and Vancouver, two Olympic host cities with far lower crime and poverty rates than Rio, security concerns prompted the government’s’ criminalization of poverty and curtailment of human rights as thousands of homeless were driven from the streets in the weeks prior to the Games. In Beijing, a city with a socioeconomic landscape which more closely resembles that of Rio, no less than 800,000 people were reported as having been forcibly evicted during preparations for the 2008 Olympics. It doesn’t take much stretch of the imagination, therefore, to comprehend the scope of mega-event-related evictions that will take place in Rio given the city’s deep-seated global reputation as a hotbed of “squatters”, drug trafficking, and homicide.

No less than 2,800 comunidade evictions have already been reported, most of which have resulted in little - if any - financial compensation for displaced residents. In a city where real estate speculation and an overvalued currency have combined to drive housing prices through the roof, it is difficult to imagine that the maximum reported compensation (roughly US $24,000) will buy an evictee anything short of a cramped tenement incapable of accommodating larger families. Factor in the opportunity cost of missed days at work and moving expenses, and the price of relocation becomes even more out-of-reach for evictees in a city where the minimum wage lags behind the burgeoning real estate market.

In a way, FIFA and the IOC assume the role of a joint, de facto government which encourages Paes’ martial law-style tactics to ensure event revenue and successful legacy marketing. The municipal government - willingly or unwillingly - finds itself at the mercy of these procurators of international sport, lured by the dangling carrot of profit-sharing.

A la carte law

Unlike many other comunidades, which were built on steep
hillsides, Autodromo occupies a flat swatch of land.
Flood risk is minimal. Photo credit: Globo Esportes

Part 4 in a 6-part series on the removal of Vila Autodromo

Yesterday, an article was published in O Globo stating that every day, Brazil signs 18 new pieces of legislation into law, the majority of which fall to the cutting-room floor and are never leveraged by the judicial system. The City Statute of Rio de Janeiro - a collection of laws designed to reduce urban inequality - is laden with these forgotten decrees, especially those which protect the tenure of residents of informal settlements. As UN Special Rapporteur on Adequate Housing Raquel Rolnik points out, a legal instrument called Zonas Especias de Interesse Social (Zones of Special Social Interest, or ZEIS), permits the designation of buildings in city centers - rather than on the infrastructure-devoid periphery - for those who must be rehoused. However, rather than invoke these laws, which would clash with the interests of powerful real estate moguls and politicians, it appears that mayor Eduardo Paes is selectively drawing upon legislature which can be exploited to justify the community bulldozings without regard to equitable relocations -such as Article 429.

The case of Vila Autodromo is illustrative of the municipal government’s anti-urban poor bias that - with the exception of ex-governor Leonel Brizola’s progressive land titling program in the mid-90s - has largely undermined efforts to establish more just housing policies. Vila Autodromo itself was a beneficiary of Brizola’s de Soto-style initiative, which granted legal tenure to most of the comunidade’s residents in 1994. However, Paes has since informed citizens of Autodromo that these titles “have no value” and that, in accordance with Article 429, Vila Autdromo’s removal is justified due to the community’s location in an area of “environmental risk”. Even if the titles were insufficient to secure tenure, the very same legal system that Paes exploits to lend credence to the “risk” argument also extends case-based legality of tenure to communities with 20 or more years of existence - known in legal terms as usucapiao - rendering the decision to remove Autodromo all the more dubious.

While the argument could be made that a certain amount of deforestation and pollution is necessary for Autodromo’s existence, the determination of “environmental risk” appears to be another example of the law only applying to the city’s poor and powerless – tellingly, the erection of residential high-rises and the Olympic Park press on without incident less than a quarter mile from where Autodromo lies. The double-standards do not end with the questionably-placed construction; part of the government's case against Autodromo has been the waterborne pollution the community allegedly generates. However, on our walking tour of the community, Jane refutes this claim. “Most of the houses here have simple soil filtration systems,” she explains. “The water undergoes natural filtration through the ground before it runs off into the lagoon.” Ironically, Jane points out, sewage from many of the recently-built luxury apartment buildings nearby is dumped directly into the water, untreated.

Another smoking gun has appeared in the course of the Autodromo controversy; the government’s justifications for the comunidade’s removal are constantly changing in response to mounting evidence against them. On top of the environmental risk argument, residents were initially told that their homes had to be demolished to cede the land to the Olympic Media Center. However, several months later, the government revised these plans and announced that the Media Center would be moved to the Port Zone in the city center. Lacking any other clear-cut reason to remove Autodromo, Eduardo Paes then announced that the community would need to be removed to establish a “security perimeter” around the proposed Olympic venues. However, the question as to why it is permissible to allow residential apartments to remain around the periphery of the Olympic construction, but not a peaceable, working-class community, remains unanswered.

The political hypocrisies do not end there. Incidentally, the municipal government has begun a massive overhaul of the city’s dilapidated Port Zone, centrally located in the city’s appropriately named “Centro” area. The Centro, once a bustling, well-heeled neighborhood, is now replete with abandoned, decaying buildings badly in need of restoration. The government plans to renovate these buildings; however, instead of using them to re-house citizens displaced from their homes by mega-event construction as originally planned, and as ZEIS permits, the buildings will now be repurposed solely for private commercial means, precluding the relocation of residents in homes close to infrastructure, jobs, and transportation hubs.

Analogy fail.

This weekend, O Globo quoted mayor Eduardo Paes as saying that the restorations in Rio's Port Zone are comparable to the Olympic-related upgrading in East London.* Seemingly, this comparison was based on the fact that both restorations are taking place in "degraded neighborhoods". Yes, folks, the similarities are almost overwhelming!

No, in fact, they are not. The similarities end right there. Let's take a look at a few things East London and the Port Zone revival projects definitely DO NOT have in common. Behold:

London has designated nearly half of its Olympic Village housing units for low-income occupation after the Games. Does that compare to the forced removals of comunidade residents in the Port Zone (see: Providencia)? Does that compare to not offering to re-house these families in anything remotely on-par with an Olympic Village apartment?

Is East London also installing some sort of tourist-oriented teleferico that no one who lives in East London will actually use? Will East London's teleferico also necessitate removing some of the city's poorest residents so that gringo tourists can enjoy a scenic view?

Is East London auctioning off public land for private investment???

The jokes write themselves, my friends.

*Paes also failed to correctly name the region of London in question. In fact, he said "West Zone" of London.

The Case of Vila Autodromo

Part 3 in a 6-part series on the forced removal of Vila Autodromo

Vila Autodromo, located in the expansive West Zone of the city, is one the comunidades whose permanency is being threatened by the SMH. On October 9th, 2009, Mayor Eduardo Paes called for the complete removal of the comunidade to make way for the Olympic Park, a BRL $37 million “leisure area” for Games

The Azure Letter. Houses marked for removal
in Autodromo. Photo credit: RioOnWatch

’ athletes that will also serve as the site of this year’s Rock in Rio music festival. Home to Seu Francisco and approximately 3,000 other residents, Vila Autodromo boasts more than 40 years of peaceful existence, free of the drug trafficking and violence that plague the vast majority of Rio’s other informal settlements.
I had the privilege of visiting Vila Autodromo last week to meet with community leader Jane Nascimento, who has been instrumental in the community’s fight against an otherwise sealed fate. Although the community was scheduled to be removed in March, the SMH has been unable to bulldoze a single house, thanks in part to Nascimento’s vociferous opposition. “They [the SMH ] have tried to come here a few times with their bulldozers,” she tells me. “But we have resisted. We blockade the roads, and they cannot enter.”
That same day, Jane leads me and a group of other independent researchers on a walking tour of Vila Autodromo. It is not difficult to see why the government is interested in this swatch of prime real estate, marking its territory with the now-infamous blue grafitti the SMH uses to deface the facades of houses it will soon remove. Peppered with lush vegetation, Autodromo is flanked by a main boulevard on one side and the lagoon on the other, and boasts top-notch views of the massive body of water. In order to legally remove the community, however, the government must navigate through a series of articles in the City Statue designed to protect land tenure for all but the most precarious settlements. One legal instrument is Article 429, the Lei Organica do Municipio, which stipulates that removal is only justified when an informal settlement occupies a tract of land that “poses a signficant risk to its residents.” This wording leaves some room for ambiguity in its definition of “significant risk”, and indeed it is this exact piece of legislation that is being manipulated by the municipal government in order to authorize the forced evictions. The SMH has recently cited “pollution” and “flood risk” as reasons for Vila Autodromo’s removal despite the fact that residents are hard-pressed to remember the last time the community had a flood, and that most of the water-borne pollution comes from other residential areas surrounding the lagoon, as Seu Francisco described.
Jane goes on to express her fear that, despite the community’s past success in thwarting demolition (the community was scheduled to be removed in March of this year), the SMH may soon begin bulldozing houses, businesses, and the newly erected community church. Particularly, she worries that residents will be relocated to the militia-controlled Minha Casa Minha Vida apartments, which offer little in the way of amenities – much less a community-built place of open worship. Jane explains, “If we are relocated, we want everything that we have here, there [in the Minha Casa Minha Vida complex].”

Development for whom?

Part 2 in a 6-part series on the forced removal of Vila Autodromo

Seu Francisco’s reality could serve as a microcosm of the developmental ironies that have been cast over the city of Rio de Janeiro as it prepares to host the 2014 World Cup and the 2016 Olympic Games. While the government argues that these mega-events will bolster Rio’s economy by create jobs and encouraging foreign investment, the question of into whose pockets the cash influx is deposited is, in actuality, not much of a question if the experiences of other recent mega-event countries - such as labor-strike riddled South Africa - serve as a paradigm. Any economic and social benefits reaped from these events will almost certainly fail to have the “trickle-down” effect that the municipal government insists will occur. The chances that the over one million citizens of Rio who live in the comunidades - Rio’s marginalized informal settlements - will enjoy any externalities from the events appears even bleaker considering the government’s recent decision to revert to dictatorship-era policies and raze settlements it feels pose a threat to event-related construction, security, or both.

Minha Casa Minha Vida apartments in Rio's West Zone.
Resident fear is often an impediment to confirming milicia presence.
Photo credit: Aceveda.com.br

Sadly, stories such as Seu Francisco’s have become the rule - not the exception - to the fallout that mega-event preparations have had on Rio de Janeiro’s comunidades. Of the city’s estimated 1,000 comunidades, 123 - or more than one tenth - have been slated for removal by Rio’s Municipal Housing Office (SMH). The majority of these removals have been deemed necessary due to the massive infrastructural overhaul that the municipal government must execute in order to placate the International Olympic Committee (IOC), FIFA, and the million-odd tourists anticipated to descend upon the city for the two mega-events. It should be noted that, in these cases “removal” is essentially a euphemism for “forced eviction”; residents of comunidades that have already been bulldozed by the SMH have accused the Office of violating their most fundamental United Nations-granted housing and property rights. Worse, these removals have been characterized by insufficient or zero monetary compensation for displaced residents, a lack of transparency and public dialog, and sub-standard resettlement policies which scatter the tight-knit comunidade members across the extreme peripheries of the city with no regard for preserving networks of families and friends. In some cases, residents have been re-housed in the government-subsidized Minha Casa Minha Vida (My House My Life) apartment buildings, originally designated for city residents in lowest income bracket. These heavily criticized condominium complexes are widely known to be ruled by Rio’s ruthless milicia - a shadowy parallel power consisting of ex-police officers who routinely extort money from relocated residents and impose strict sanctions on social activities within the condominium confines. Located in low-profile suburbs on the outskirts of Rio, these apartments have become a breeding ground for this type of Wild West renegade rule. It’s no wonder, therefore, that residents of comunidades facing eviction are less than thrilled about the prospect of government-“assisted” relocation.

The Old Man and the Lagoon

Part 1 in a 6-part series on the forced removal of Vila Autodromo

Vila Autdromo on the margins of the Jacarepagua Lagoon.
Photo credit: favela.info

Grizzled, deeply tanned, and with cataracts that fail to obscure a pair of animated green eyes, Seu Francisco is the spitting image of Hemingway’s old fisherman. Like his fictitious Cuban counterpart, Seu Francisco’s life is characterized by his relationship to water. The Jacarepagua Lagoon, where Seu Francisco and 3,000 other residents have made their home, laps languidly at the shore below as he gazes out from his rooftop across the vast expanse of turbid blue. He recalls the days when fish were abundant in the lagoon, and provided him with a sufficient income for his family. He gestures to the opposite shore of the inlet on which his two-story house is perched, and directs my attention to an area of the lagoon where construction for the Olympic Games has begun. “See that? They pollute the water. They cut down trees. They dump their construction waste in the lake,” he explains. “I can’t fish here anymore. Now I must travel two hours to the next lagoon, where there are still fish.”

“What about the fish here?” I ask. “Where are they now?”
Seu Francisco shakes his head slowly. “Sumiram,” he says. “They disappeared.”
Thanks to an October 9th, 2009 decision by the municipal government to bulldoze his home to make way for Games-related construction, Seu Francisco may soon meet the same fate as his fish.

Another UPP, another "victory" for...who, exactly?

On Sunday, the military police (PM) of Rio de Janeiro carried out their "occupation" of Morro da Mangueira, one of the city's most famous comunidades*. This invasion will cinch the "security belt" of UPPs - the 24-hour Police Pacifying Units - that the municipal government has placed around the city's South and Center Zones, with the well-publicized aim of "pacifying" the ten comunidades which lie in close proximity to the Temple of Futbol: Maracana stadium. (Here it should be noted that "pacifying" is a euphemsim for "forcibly expelling drug traffickers").

Note the absence of UPPs (red) in areas far from the city center,
and the belt-like formation around Maracana (yellow).

As Rio will host the World Cup in 2014 and the Olympic Games two years later, it is undeniable that the city has some cleaning up to do. It's difficult to disassemble in a mere 3 years an international reputation of violence, drug trafficking, and poverty that has been snowballing since the late 70s when the Commando Vermelho drug faction formed. Given this insurmountable task, the city government has begun to wage a war on their most marginalized residents, criminalizing poverty and robbing comunidade residents of their homes, culture, and livelihoods. Mostly, I will be discussing the evictions and relocations of the 1.5 million-odd Cariocas who are estimated to be displaced by comunidade razings in the years leading up to these two mega-events. Today, however, I am talking about the PM's installation of the UPPs, a less sinister form of urban cleansing, but furtively destructive in its own rite.

Whereas evictions and relocations have clear-cut economic, social, and cultural impacts for affected residents, the UPPs' impact is less tangible. Part of the reason for the harder-to-detect negative fallout of the UPPs is the degree to which they have been extolled by the city's well-heeled, influential upper class who so often find themselves living just a stone's throw from these comunidades (see: Ipanema, Gavea). This praise is not without merit; violence in the middle and upper-class neighborhoods flanked by comunidades with UPPs has decreased markedly. Many comunidade residents themselves will tell you that their streets are now free of tiroteiros (gunfire) and traficantes (drug traffickers).

BOPE and PMs take Mangueira. Photo credit: Paraiba.com.br

But, where has the gunfire and drug trafficking gone? Herein lies one of the biggest flaws with the way in which the government has approached the UPP installations. While comunidades and their neighbors on the asfalto (the "legal" city fabric) may reap the benefits of reduced violence and drug trade, the fact that the UPP installations rarely - if ever - apprehend drug traffickers and arms when the PM invade is illustrative of the government's short-sighted security policies. This weekend, the Fox News of Brazil, O Globo, released an article on the recent "pacification" of Mangueira. They underscore the fact that the occupation was non-violent, and the police were able to take control of the area without incident, as well as seize 300 bundles of marijuana and 50 grams of cocaine.

All of this is true. However, what the article does not mention is that the police failed to apprehend a single firearm (unless you feel like counting one fake plastic rifle). It does call attention the to detention of four Mangueira residents (two of which were minors), but the reader is left to speculate whether or not these pitifully few arrests were actually of traficantes or just recreational drug users. What is clear is that the handcuffing of a mere four people in no way represents the scope of the Commando Vermelho's operations in Mangueira, a community of over 20,000 people. Regardless, the city's head of public security, Jose Beltrame, lauded the occupation as a resounding success.

So where did the traficantes go, with their firearms in tow? Well, given the police's two-week advance warning of the occupation, heavily publicized in the media, fleeing doesn't have to be a last minute burden for a traficante.

It's no secret that residents of Rio's working-class North Zone and distal West Zone have been experienced increased levels of violence since the installation of the UPPs (which are primarily located in the Center and wealthy South Zone). Petty theft, carjackings, and drug-related homicides in the North Zone have risen in tandem with the number of UPPs installed in the South Zone. You don't have to be a Caltech grad to determine the causality here.

If you're still skeptical, and speak Portuguese (or embrace Google Translate), I encourage you to read today's O Globo article on the PM's operation in the West Zone, which took place early this morning. What was the motive? Why, to apprehend traficantes who fled the Mangueira raid, of course!

*I have chosen to use what I consider to be a politically-correct and neutral term, comunidade, in lieu of favela