Yesterday, a story about a project to build a massive artificial waterfall in Rio made its rounds on the blogs (I found it via The Good Blood, via Treehugger). Swiss architecture firm RAFAA entered the project in the International Architecture Competition for the 2016 Olympics by proposing the construction of a solar panel operated artificial waterfall on one of the small islands off the coast of the city, right off the tip of the Leme neighborhood.
The structure, called the Solar City Tower, runs on solar power, pumping ocean water into the cascade over the island. Besides providing clean energy, the building would have observation decks, shops, dining, an amphitheater, and a bungee-jumping deck. The idea seems to be to make it both an environmental landmark as well as a tourist attraction.
I looked around to see if I could find any other entries for the competition, but this was all I could find. While I think it's a wonderful idea to strive to be the first zero-carbon games (good luck with that, by the way), it seems a little wacky. And despite the intent on creating something semi natural, Rio's beauty lies in its real natural wonders, and this thing just looks weird.
"Now, Mr. Cameron said, he has been spurred to action, to speak out
against the looming environmental destruction endangering indigenous
groups around the world — a cause that is fueling his inner rage and
inspiring his work on an “Avatar” sequel.
“Any direct experience that I have with indigenous peoples and their
plights may feed into the nature of the story I choose to tell,” he
said. “In fact, it almost certainly will.” Referring to his Amazon trip,
he added, “It just makes me madder.”
Cameron brought Sigourney Weaver along this time, and both will protest the Belo Monte project in Brasilia this week. He wrote a letter to Lula, though it would seem he was denied a private meeting with him, unless it was held secretly, which I doubt.
The Belo Monte project has been in the works for a long time, and indigenous groups have fought against it since the idea came to light. It's one of the classic Amazon struggles: development to benefit Brazilians with jobs and energy vs. environmental destruction and further marginalization of indigenous groups. Despite protests against the dam, it looks as though the project is going to move forward. But with such a high profile celebrity on the ground, allied with Brazilian protesters, he just might have thrown a wrench into the process, at least temporarily.
What do you think about a big Hollywood star using his fame for this cause? Is he fighting a good fight, or is he just a gringo metido?
Though it would be amazing if Jose Padilha himself wrote a guest entry, I stumbled upon a short film he made for Live Earth last year, and as usual, it's interesting and thought-provoking, albeit a lot shorter and simpler than his other documentaries.
Cristiano, the author of Casagrande blog and the guy behind the Brazilians Twitter account, wrote this about his encounter with a logger in Rio Grande do Sul.
Hoje pela manhã fui ao centro da cidade onde moro, no Rio Grande do
Sul, e enquanto aguardava para ser atendido acompanhei uma conversa que
me chamou a atenção.
Um rapaz, aparentando 20 anos de idade,
contava como era o seu dia-a-dia na Amazônia. Pelo sotaque deduzi que
era daqui mesmo. Gaúcho na Amazônia não é difícil de descobrir a
profissão. A maioria são militares, criadores de gado ou madeireiros.
Não me contive e peguntei:
- Você é militar?
- Não, trabalho em uma madeireira.
- Madeira certificada? - questionei não acreditando no que havia acabado de perguntar.
- Sim - respondeu desviando o olhar.
- Porque o IBAMA certifica a madeira legal na Amazônia, certo? - continuei
-
Ninguém trabalha certinho na Amazônia - interrompeu ele - quando os
fiscais do IBAMA chegam todos os madeireiros param até eles irem embora.
- E para onde vai a madeira de vocês? - quis saber, curioso.
- Exportação. A 1ª linha para Europa, 2ª linha para os Estados Unidos.
- Não fica nada no Brasil? - continuei, surpreso.
- Só a madeira com muita imperfeição, que não tem como tirar os nódulos.
- Entendi. - concluí, percebendo que ele não estava disposto a continuar a entrevista.
Continuei acompanhando a conversa do rapaz com outra pessoa, com quem não tinha constrangimento em falar sobre o assunto.
"As notícias nos jornais são exageradas. O povo acha que o IBAMA está
sempre lá fazendo apreensões e multando. Tem madeireiros que tem
milhões em multa, mas a vida deles é essa, não vão pagar essas multas
nunca."
"Falam que a Amazônia vai terminar. Ainda tem muito mato, leva uns 50, 60 anos para a Amazônia acabar."
A
conversa era interessante nesta história onde pistoleiros e madeireiros
eram os personagens principais enquanto governo e polícia eram
coadjuvantes e eventuais.
Neste momento, precisei sair.
Despedi-me de todos, olhei para ele e vi que desviou o olhar. Estava
claro que não tinha constragimento para falar sobre isso com os demais,
mas parecia saber que não podia confiar em mim.
See original post for photos of logging in the Amazon.
I recently discovered CQC (Custe o que custar), a comedy show on Band in Brazil, which roughly translates as "Whatever it takes." Though it is mostly a mixture of comedy segments, it has a fantastic political segment called "Proteste já" (Protest Now). The show sends one of the hosts, Rafinha Bastos, to investigate a social problem in a town or city in Brazil, in an effort to bring attention to the problem and to alert the responsible authorities, to ultimately resolve the problem.
In this week's episode, Rafinha (who is, incidentally, a Jewish stand-up comedian) goes to a town in Sao Paulo state where the public hospital is in a state of complete disarray. Despite the fact that the city government spends twice as much as the legal amount on public health, there are no doctors in the ER the day Rafinha arrives, with few doctors available, a broken X-ray machine, and insufficient medical instruments. Rafinha goes to the Secretary of Health in the city and gets up in his face (unlike the soft-balling Globo version of "Proteste Ja" when they show the problem, play dramatic music, and call it a day). Dressed up as Death, he reads him a long list of problems with the hospital, and asks him to give a definite answer about when and how he'll deal with the crisis. He also asks if the secretary uses the hospital, the only one in town; he meekly replies: "I go to a private hospital."
Inspired by the segment, I'm starting a new series to shed light on local issues in the Americas not getting enough attention in the international media that need to be addressed.
For the first post, let's have a look at some serious shenanigans going on in Para, one of the most lawless states in Brazil. It is also in the Amazon, and one of the most rapidly deforested areas in Brazil, due to illegal logging and cattle ranching.
Ibama, the government branch responsible for protecting the environment and punishing those who destroy it, is currently working on an operation called Boi Pirata II in the Novo Progresso area of Para, which is the municipality with the highest rate of deforestation in the country. The operation is being led by Ibama agent Leslie Tavares, who is managing one hundred agents from Ibama, the National Security Forces, the Federal Police, and the Federal Highway Police, working together to fine illegal loggers and confiscate illegal goods. In 2008, Ibama ran Operation Boi Pirata I and managed to confiscate 3,500 heads of cattle and remove another 100,000 from illegal ranches. So far, Operation Boi Pirata II has punished ranchers with $15,000 in fines and has removed 2,500 heads of cattle.
The area of the operation, which includes a national park, stretches 13,000 square kilometers, 11% of which is now completely deforested due to illegal commercial activity. The operation seeks to limit area destroyed for cattle ranching and to enforce environmental law. However, cattle ranchers essentially run entire areas of the Northeast with an iron fist, like in the days of the coronels.
Sadly, the judicial system in Para, one of the most corrupt in the country, is not always supportive of the federal government's efforts, and is often supportive of the local strongmen. This week, one of the ranchers who was fined in the operation, one Jocemar Picolotto, went to a state judge asking him to put a stop to the operation. The judge conceded the request, and ruled that Boi Pirata II must halt its efforts and return all confiscated cattle to their owners. Ibama, however, ignored the ban, after a federal appeals court (TRF-1) swiftly overturned the ruling. Nevertheless, on Tuesday, the state judge ordered that Leslie Tavares, the head of the operation, be imprisoned for failing to halt the operation. In other words--the court ordered a federal agent to be thrown in jail for doing his job.
Chaos ensued when military police came to put Tavares behind bars, while Ibama agents and federal police tried to help Tavares. But the military police succeeded and put Tavares in jail. Later, Ibama informed the authorities of the TRF's ruling, and Tavares was released. Now, Ibama says, the judge could be thrown in jail for failing to enforce the higher court's ruling, but it is not clear what will happen to him or to Tavares.
Two news stories caught my eye this week, showing trouble brewing in the Amazon.
The first story isn't actually the Amazon, but rather the Pantanal, a swamp region in the southwestern part of Brazil. Three American graduate students were arrested there, accused of "crimes against the patrimony" by stealing minerals, as well as doing scientific research on tourist visas. The American and Brazilian coverage, as usual, differs considerably, in that the Brazilian coverage assumes the gringos are automatically guilty.
"University of Arizona geoscientists Michael
McGlue, 31, and Mark Tress, 48, and University of Minnesota-Duluth
student Kelly Wendt, 26, were arrested by federal police June 16 while
working on a climate change project with the University of the State of
Sao Paulo. The Americans spent eight nights in jail before being
released on bail June 26. Police confiscated their passports as well as
computers, research equipment, cellphones and cash.
Roberto Lins, the men's Brazilian lawyer, says
the students may not go before a judge for six months and could face up
to five years in prison if convicted of illegally prospecting for
minerals."
"Segundo a polícia, o grupo fazia pesquisa sem autorização de
nenhum órgão governamental brasileiro e sem comprovante de
intercâmbio ou convênio com entidades de pesquisa do Brasil.
Ainda de acordo com a PF, eles faziam coleta de sedimentos, por
meio de prospecção mineral. O material seria levado para os
Estados Unidos, onde seriam analisados."
There are a couple of lessons to be gleaned from this story, and none of them are good. The first is that in rural areas like this one, you can get away with robbery, murder, and kidnapping, but not studying sand. And in this case, a study intended to do good, by monitoring climate change. The second is that this is yet one of several cases of foreigners being accused of scientific piracy and exploitation in Brazil, and it creates a major deterrent to scientific research and innovation there. The third is that Brazilian universities and scientific institutions need to be better prepared when working on projects like this, since the American students had trusted that USP had all of their permits in order and had followed their directions "just to apply for a tourist visa." If not, foreigners won't be able to trust these institutions and will go elsewhere to carry out similar projects. And finally, another lesson for foreigners in Brazil is to always, always have your paperwork in order. In the country of Great Bureaucracy, it's always better to be safe than sorry.
The second story takes place in Rondonia, the far northwest of Brazil. Ibama, the government agency responsible for protecting the environment, invaded a national park there. Though the land is supposed to be protected, 3,000 people live there raising 30,000 heads of cattle, and as a result, a quarter of the forest in the park has been destroyed. Ibama went in with 400 men to fine the cattle ranchers and to make them remove the cattle from the land immediately. However, the ranchers were angry, since the Minister of the Environment recently turned over part of the park land to the state to allow residents to stay on the destroyed part of the land.
So some ranchers decided to let Ibama have it. They set one of their cars on fire, and left this pathetically written threat:
It is in this note, I think, that the problem of environmental protection in Brazil becomes clear. The government and conservationists are up against uneducated, armed peons with few options for employment (and rich, well-connected businessmen who can get away with anything) amidst a sea of red tape and conflicting authorities and laws, none of which are effectively protecting the rainforest. This deadly combination spawns chaos, and so far, no solution has allowed the Brazilian government to figure out how to manage the delicate balance between development and conservation.
After being deeply affected by They Killed Sister Dorothy, I managed to get in touch with David Stang, Dorothy's younger brother. If you had told me I would have found a kindred spirit in a senior citizen, former Catholic missionary rock gardener, I probably wouldn't have believed you. But David is a wonderfully irreverent man with whom I share many opinions, and who also surprised me with his kindness, honesty, and views about Brazil.
David is 71 and retired. He lived as a missionary in Africa for ten years, and spent five years in Tanzania and another five in Kenya. With the aid and inspiration of his sister Dorothy, he set up successful cooperatives and focused on serving the poor, as well as his religious duties. But one day, an African bishop came to the village where he lived. He accused David of not doing his job and failing to say mass. David explained to him that very few people came to church, since they had to work. He pointed out that helping the villagers survive was like giving mass. The bishop failed to see things his way, and essentially kicked David out. He was heartbroken, but claims the bishop couldn't take away his humanity and his right to have a relationship with the people he had lived with for so long. He returned to the US where he left the church and got married. He spent the last ten years of his career running a psychiatric facility in Colorado. He was a "happy little pig" living the retired life when he got the call that Dorothy had been murdered.
"She knew it was coming," he said. She'd invited him to visit the previous December, when "they had a ball," and she called him the night before her death, as if to say goodbye. David has been to Brazil ten times (before and after Dorothy's death), and has spent around US$25,000 on his travels there. He has been to many of the trials to try to convict Dorothy's killers, and remains in close contact with the Dorothy Stang Committee, a group of friends, supporters, lawyers, and activists dedicated to assuring justice for Dorothy.
I asked David about Dorothy, to fill in some of the blanks from the movie. When Dorothy first moved to Brazil, she considered herself to be a part of the "old church," aligned with the Vatican and the more traditional role of a nun and missionary. But once she got to Brazil, she began analyzing the problems at hand and asking herself what she could do about them. She shed her habit and began dressing simply, and moved into the community she served. She realized that where she was living, the Catholic Church "was in bed with" the powerful and oppressive upper class. In this rural area, the priest said mass at one of the local plantation houses, and the plantation owner was the godfather for all the local children, who are mostly poor--David referred to this system as "religious slavery." Eventually, services were moved to more humble locales and the poor were permitted to be godparents. In the meantime, Dorothy set out to help the people of her community with their basic needs, which helped her win the trust of the villagers.
She decided to start with children and women, who bear the burden of raising a family (due to largely absent fathers). She researched the Constitution and local laws, and discovered that the government was obligated to run a school and pay teachers. Since there was no school in the town, she decided to build one. With the help of the community, they built the first school, a small structure made of wood. When the local ranchers, the traditional oppressors of the region, found out, they arrived at the school in pick-up trucks. They ordered the villagers to tear down the school, piece by piece, and to load the wood in their trucks. The villagers obeyed, and the ranchers left with the remnants of the school.
But Dorothy had a unique advantage, David says, because she was a woman. She would soon learn that the ranchers would be against everything she did, and she'd have to battle them to get anything done, since even the government was afraid of them. But as a nun, she was untouchable--at least for awhile. After the first heartbreaking incident, she built thirty schools in the region, as well as setting up successful cooperatives and setting up social programs. She also managed to carry out an ambitious sustainable development project that even the local government had been incapable of implementing.
David is rightfully critical of Brazil, after dealing with the repercussions of his sister's death. "Corruption is one of the biggest tragedies," he told me. "How can this be called a Catholic country? What happened to the message?" he asked. He also points to the stark social and economic inequalities as a problem, and the exploitation of the poor as a serious injustice. After seeing what happened at the trial to convict Dorothy's killers, he is astounded that Brazil's president could condemn the crime, but yet nothing was done to rectify the situation. At least, he says, it's an embarrassment for the judicial system of Para, which has helped put it in the spotlight. But since the ranchers have connections in Brasilia, the case has shed light on the Brazilian judicial system as a whole. David wondered, "How can you have a civilization with a corrupt judicial system? How can you have law and order?"
He also touched on an issue that I noticed living in Rio. In the big cities, most people see the Amazon as something very far away and unrelated to their day-to-day life. But these people don't feel the Amazon is theirs unless they perceive a threat from foreigners trying to exert influence there. He compared this situation to a husband who neglects his wife but gets jealous if anyone dares to look at her. Yet despite this, the Amazon continues to be ravaged by illegal ranching and loggers, and little is being done to stop them. Global warming is something we all must be concerned with, he urged, and the destruction of the Amazon is "the greatest tragedy there is." Also, on the American side, the US continues to import illegal wood from Brazil, and American consumers continue to buy it.
But despite his criticism, David has a deep love for Brazil. He feels a special affinity for Brazil, since Dorothy was in fact Brazilian by law, which he feels makes him Brazilian, too. "Tell me I'm not Brazilian," he sometimes says to those who accuse him of being a gringo. Plus, "if I can put up with Bush, I can put up with this," he laughed, pointing out that he felt what the US government did in Iraq was an even greater travesty. He told me several times how many good people there were in Brazil that he'd come in contact with, and that Dorothy's murder didn't represent Brazil. He speaks a little Portuguese, and when he talks about the good things in Brazil, his voice brims with love. "The ranchers aren't Brazilian--they're thieves, who have no country," he said. "Why should thugs and thieves control this beautiful country?" He also teased me by telling me I was wrong to say that not all Brazilian women are beautiful. He told me about all the people in Brazil supporting Dorothy's cause, people fighting to maintain the progress she accomplished and people working to bring her justice.
In the end, David admits that "all we have is hope." He's hopeful that there will be justice and Dorothy's death will not be in vain. "Dorothy is a symbol of what we must all try to be," he told me. I couldn't agree more.
