Battered Favela Fights “Environmental Racism” As Brazil Readies For COP30

In the shadow of a major UN climate summit in Belém, residents of a local favela decry “environmental racism” as they remain excluded from critical infrastructure upgrades, revealing the deep disparities that persist even amid global environmental discourse and activism.

Where COP30 Meets a Century of Neglect

As Brazil prepares to host the 2025 United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP30) in the heart of the Amazon, a small corner of Belém known as Vila da Barca has become a focal point of protest. Home to some 3,000 residents, this extensive community of palafittes—houses perched on wooden stilts above the Guajará River—confronts a dilemma that has persisted for over a century: extreme neglect by the state.

Now, with COP30 only six months away, Belém is scrambling to finish dozens of infrastructure projects intended to manage what will be the city’s most significant logistical challenge. The government of the state of Pará has pledged roughly 4.5 billion reais (about 793 million dollars) toward upgrades in sanitation, roads, and public transportation to prepare the metropolis for climate delegates from around the world.

Yet, residents of Vila da Barca claim they have been sidelined yet again. They allege that a new wastewater treatment station—one of the marquee projects being fast-tracked to meet the city’s sanitation needs—will not serve their community. Worse still, they say the debris and sludge from another COP30-related construction effort are being discarded directly in their neighborhood, exposing them to harmful gases and airborne particles. “We feel no one cares about our living conditions. Everything is always promised and never delivered,” says local leader and social educator Cleia Carmo in statements to EFE. “The authorities keep telling us about development and progress, but that seems to end where Vila da Barca starts.”

The Missing Sewage System and Fresh Fears

Despite existing in Belém for over a century, Vila da Barca lacks the most basic amenities, including a safe water supply and proper sewage services. According to its residents, when they saw signs announcing the construction of a significant new wastewater treatment facility nearby, they hoped their fortunes might finally change. Instead, dismayed, they discovered that the station would bypass their homes altogether.
“We learned about the sewage treatment project only from the signboards,” says Carmo. “We went to the Secretariat of Works to confirm if it would benefit us. That’s when we discovered that even though the pipes would run through our area, we were omitted.”

Carmo and other neighborhood leaders then demanded explanations at a public hearing. What they got, she says, were vague promises and a highly technical description of the project—no detailed impact studies, no clarity about whether or when Vila da Barca would be connected.

Meanwhile, construction for the Linear Park of Doca—another COP30-linked initiative—has generated debris and sludge. Trucks haul the waste into a pit within Vila da Barca’s boundaries, turning the favela into a dumping site. Local leader Gisele Mendes, a social worker who collaborates closely with Carmo, denounces the practice as yet another example of “environmental racism.”

“How can we talk about protecting the climate and communities if we dump construction waste in one of Belém’s poorest areas?” Mendes asks in an interview with EFE.
“All the dust, the foul smell, and the gases are affecting people’s health. Children and elderly folks here are getting respiratory issues. It feels like we are a sacrifice zone for the city’s beautification.”
Official statements from municipal and state authorities assert that the current dump site is temporary and that Vila da Barca will eventually be integrated into the new wastewater treatment framework. However, locals remain unconvinced, pointing to decades of broken promises.
“We don’t have any guarantee that it will be done in time for COP30—or at all,” says Carmo. “Once the climate conference ends, they might forget about us again.”

Old Promises, New Investments, and Growing Distrust

From the residents’ vantage point, the sense of urgency ahead of COP30 underscores a broader pattern: city governments often initiate large-scale projects in working-class neighborhoods to impress international visitors, but they seldom ensure follow-through once the spotlight fades.

Indeed, the government’s pledge to install a sewage network for 80% of Belém’s population is ambitious, and it addresses a dire need—close to four-fifths of the city lacks adequate sanitation. But in Vila da Barca, any optimism remains guarded. Tides, storms, and unregulated construction waste repeatedly batter the rickety boardwalks leading to the homes on stilts.

“When they say they’re going to build roads or sewage lines, it sounds good in the media,” Carmo remarks. “But for us, it’s always partial, incomplete, or nonexistent. We’ve had so many false starts that we’ve lost count.”

Local activists also highlight the contradiction of hosting a major climate summit in a region where communities like Vila da Barca face environmental degradation daily. The per capita income of many residents here is well below the city average, and ecological hazards compound their hardship. Rising river waters threaten to flood their homes, while untreated waste from other parts of the city flows directly into the Guajará River.

“This is the same government that wants to showcase Belém as a green and forward-looking place for climate action,” Mendes says. “If that’s true, we shouldn’t be left out of those green solutions. Instead, we’re inhaling dust from their construction sites next door.”

Authorities at both regional and municipal levels have responded by insisting Vila da Barca will benefit from the planned station and that the debris dumping is a provisional arrangement for convenience. Government representatives also claim they are working under intense pressure of time. With the conference looming, they have to ensure critical infrastructure is functional before November, which leaves them little room for extended community consultations.

But the people of Vila da Barca feel otherwise. For them, the issue is not merely about missing sewage lines. They worry that after the final day of COP30, the renewed attention to their existence might vanish. As far as many are concerned, they stand at the crossroads of yet another wave of unfulfilled pledges.
“We understand COP30 is a massive event that could bring positive visibility,” Carmo says. “Yet if all the effort stops right when the delegates pack their bags, then we’re back to square one.”

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For now, the whir of construction trucks has become the daily soundtrack of Vila da Barca. Old wooden planks creak under the weight of heavy machinery, and residents navigate muddy pathways while the Amazon’s most important global environmental gathering approaches. The slogan of COP30 may echo promises of inclusivity, sustainability, and environmental stewardship. Still, in the labyrinth of stilts and improvised footbridges along the Guajará River, people brace for the possibility that their fight against environmental racism will continue—long after the lights of the climate conference fade.