Houses on the Rio Guamá island, south of Belém, Brazil. (Photo credit: Cayambe/WikiCommons)
At the latest ‘Stories of Solidarity’ event, political scientist and popular educator Suane Barreirinhas introduces us to Belém, Brazil, where the 30th COP (COP30) will take place from November 10 to 21, 2025. Speaking from the Amazon, Suane presents both the city’s distinctive character, shaped by its waters and cultural fusion, and the inequalities deepened by COP30’s so-called “green” development.
A city connected to the Amazon, the waters, and the world:
For Suane, understanding the city means understanding its layered history. Belém do Pará, the capital of Pará state in northern Brazil, is now home to approximately 1.4 million people. The indigenous Tupi-Guarani originally named this land “Mairi” after the daughter of the deity Maíra. In 1616, it became “Santa Maria de Belém do Pará” under Portuguese rule (later “Santa Maria de Belém do Grão Pará”, followed by “Belém”, its current form). It remained a colony until 1823, almost a year after Brazil proclaimed its independence. The decade that followed saw the region sink into political irrelevance and poverty. Brewing popular discontent culminated in the Cabanagem revolt of the 1830s, where indigenous, black, and mixed-race populations seized power, governing for nearly a year. The central Brazilian government eventually deposed the ruling Cabanos and quashed the revolt through a series of massacres. Following this bloody period, Belém was transformed by the rubber boom from the late 19th to early 20th centuries, with lucrative latex exports to Europe and the United States bringing capital that rapidly modernised the city.
In Belém, rivers, streams, and forests blend with urban life. The municipality comprises an extensive network of 42 islands, representing approximately 65% of its territory. These islands, most of which are only accessible by boat, are home to centuries-old communities and rich biodiversity. Many inhabitants maintain traditional ways of life tied to the Amazon, respecting the natural cycles of the waters and forests. The city sits on the banks of the Pará River, which is part of the Amazon River system, approximately 100 kilometres upriver from the Atlantic Ocean. Its architecture ranges from colonial-style tiled constructions, today abandoned and derelict, to Belle Époque buildings from the rubber boom era. The wealth accrued from that time, combined with European influences, brought monuments like the Theatro da Paz, the ornate Mercado de Ferro (Ver-o-Peso), tree-lined squares, and wide avenues complete with streetlights, electric trams, and French-style cafés. Belém’s streets are notably lined with centenary mango trees, earning it the nickname “city of mangoes”.
Belém’s cultural scene showcases a striking fusion of Indigenous, African, and Portuguese roots. The city’s musical profile encompasses Carimbó dance music, with its Indigenous, African, and Portuguese influences, as well as Brega-pop, which blends Caribbean sounds such as calypso and reggae with regional rhythms. This diversity comes to the fore during the city’s two major festivals: the Círio de Nazaré procession, the largest religious event in Brazil, and the Festa da Chiquita, a space of resistance and celebration of LGBTQIA+ identity. Central to Belém’s cultural identity is its unique cuisine. Açaí berries are consumed with flour and fish as a staple food, unlike elsewhere in Brazil, where they are served as a dessert with fruit and granola. More accessible than rice and beans, they serve as sustenance for families and drive the local economy. Fish is another dietary cornerstone, with diverse river species prepared using regional ingredients including jambu and tucuci. Beyond its nutritional importance, fish symbolises the bond between Belém’s people and its waters.
A city reshaped by COP30 at the expense of many:
In the wake of COP30, Belém faces new challenges. Suane describes how the city’s “green” set of constructions have become vehicles of exploitation and exclusion by governments.
Two projects exemplify this. The Avenida Liberdade, a four-lane highway stretching thirteen kilometres across protected Amazonian territory, incorporates “sustainable” features: wildlife crossings, bicycle lanes, and solar-powered lighting systems. Yet, it is built over felled rainforest vegetation and disrupts the nearby Quilombo do Abacatal community. Over 500 quilombolas, descendants of Afro-Brazilian slaves, live near the Avenida Liberdade that provides no access points for them, serving only commercial traffic. Amid COP30-linked rent increases across Pará, the quilombolas fear eviction from their ancestral lands. They are also concerned about the highway’s impact on food security, with most of them relying on family farming.
The Nova Doca project appears more benign—a linear park spanning eight blocks across the Doca canal in the wealthy centre of Belém, featuring cycling lanes, wastewater treatment systems, and new floodgates. Yet, this “green” development has made Vila da Barca, a century-old community of 4,000 inhabitants living in precarious stilt houses, the dumping ground for the park’s mud and sewage. The community had already endured decades without sanitation due to governmental neglect. Despite COP30’s set of new infrastructure, this mistreatment endures. The construction of a sewage station in Vila da Barca, initially designed to handle the waste from the Nova Doca site and not the neighbourhood, was carried out without consulting residents.
For Suane, these projects are “environmentally racist”, with the wealthier parts of Belém benefiting from them while their toxic costs are offloaded onto poorer communities. They “interfere with the vision of COP30”, Suane adds, adopting a greenwashing logic—rather than addressing the climate crisis through a framework of social justice, these constructions, although infused with green aesthetics, actually entrench existing inequalities and exclude vulnerable populations. With preparations for COP30 underway, residents are fighting back—and they are winning. Under pressure from activists, the governor of Pará has announced the expansion of the water supply and the implementation of a sewage collection system in Vila da Barca by early 2026. This victory is complemented by the ongoing efforts of Suane and other activists to establish the Vila da Barca Memorial Museum, a sustainable stilt house project featuring local history and art, a restaurant to train and employ local women, and a hostel. These communities are teaching Belém—and the world—that environmentalism divorced from social justice is merely greenwashing. COP30 leaders now face a choice: amplify these crucial voices or silence them in the name of “sustainability”.
Author: Eva Morisot