COP comes to the Amazon: Is Belém ‘ready’ for the gringo’s gaze?
- Written by Waleska Queiroz
- Edited by Ruby Russell
- Illustration by Tams Lu
This year’s COP, the UN’s 30th global climate summit, is hosted by Belém – a city that international critics have complained is too remote, lacking infrastructure and unprepared to host an event on this scale. The Brazilian media has become obsessed with Belém’s poverty and underdevelopment – shortcomings that weren’t deemed newsworthy until the urban Amazon became a focus of the world’s attention. But what does it mean to be prepared? For whom? Activist Waleska Queiroz argues that her city is being held to colonialist standards by which it will always be a showcase for the world’s problems, never an active agent of solutions.
Hosting the first COP convened in the Amazon carries immense symbolism, but also a trap: an attempt to transform the event that showcases the region as a “problem-free” territory – something that exists nowhere in the world. Where there is wealth, there is inequality, and where there is inequality, there is always power being exercised and consolidated by one party over the other.
The Amazon, which has always been viewed “from above” – not on its own terms but by those who present its history from external perspectives, according to the colonial imaginaries that shape global perceptions of the region. These narratives have fueled distorted ideas, especially about what Amazonian cities are like and how they function. They forget – or pretend to forget – that an urban Amazon exists with its own dynamics, which have no comparison in European cities, or even within Brazil. Questions and judgments stemming from these unrealistic comparisons are made to reaffirm our position of inferiority.
Capital transforms us into a reference point for inequalities and sells us the idea that COP is, above all, an opportunity for profit. This is the logic of colonization in action – a logic that not only shapes global economic relations but also defines which territories can and cannot occupy the center of decision-making. It circulates especially among those who have been forced into captivity by capitalism – who act not by choice, but within a system that determines the social, economic and political life of entire territories. Impoverished people, historic landscapes and Amazonian cities all live under a permanent regime of enforced vulnerability, where lack of infrastructure is both deliberate and used as a justification for exclusion.
Impoverished people, historic landscapes and Amazonian cities all live under a permanent regime of enforced vulnerability, where lack of infrastructure is both deliberate and used as a justification for exclusion.
To talk about the climate crisis is, above all, to recognize a colonial history that has erased the autonomy of entire countries, cities and peoples. It means understanding that there is no way to discuss climate justice without questioning who profits from inequality, who maintains dependence, and who has contributed – and still contributes – to Belém’s current conditions and the exploitation of the Amazon. Above all, we’re talking about who finances poverty and the problems in the Amazon: those who should be questioned but remain untouchable.
This inequality isn’t new. There is a historic debt owed by rich countries to poor countries – a debt that continues to grow – which is the direct legacy of the Global North enriching itself through the exploitation of racialized territories such as the Amazon, extracting resources, erasing knowledge, and imposing economic models that perpetuate dependence. Today, nations that still profit from our ills, and invest in perpetuating them, continue to see us as “structureless” spaces.
Since the moment Belém was announced as host of COP30, there has been a focus on excessive accommodation prices. The mainstream media was suddenly concerned about the city’s social issues – issues that, curiously, were never given any space or urgency before. Why now? COP was sold to the city as an economic opportunity for the people of Belém. Instead of focusing on the event and its political, climatic and historical significance, the media prefer to talk about concerts, parties and cultural programs. They have transformed the debate into entertainment, diverting focus from what really matters: social participation, political advocacy and climate justice.
Headlines have cast residents who raised their rent prices into symbols of local greed – but they are not the real beneficiaries. It is the major hoteliers, shielded from criticism and nearly invisible in mainstream news reports, who have really profited. Those featured in the media reports are themselves largely victims of a capitalist swindle that is internalized in the collective imagination as the only way to survive.
This distortion reveals another point: the Amazon may be on the agenda, but it is rarely recognized as a legitimate party to the discussion.
This distortion reveals another point: the Amazon may be on the agenda, but it is rarely recognized as a legitimate party to the discussion. It is never a protagonist. From a colonial perspective, the Amazon isn’t meant to take the stage; it is meant only to be debated by others. The reaction to the announcement that an Amazonian city would host an international conference made this discomfort clear – they’re not used to seeing major decisions happen outside the usual axes that concentrate power, resources and visibility in Brazil.
Belém is once again treated like a market: labelling our city “lacking infrastructure” and “unprepared” reveals an old, colonial arrogance. What does it mean to be prepared? Prepared for whom? Prepared for foreigners to see? And, most importantly, who decides – and based on whose interests – what is and isn’t prepared? This measure, constantly adjusted to place our territories below the cut, is not neutral. It is the direct product of a coloniality that insists on keeping the Amazon as a showcase for problems, never as an agent of solutions.
As Nêgo Bispo points out, being a counter-colonialist means refusing to accept the colonizer’s logic as the only way to exist. It is an ethical and political practice constructed in daily life, rejecting imposed narratives and affirming our own ways of naming, organizing and understanding the world. To ask, “Are you ready to be seen by the gringo?” is to practice this counter-colonization: turning the question back on those who measure us by someone else’s yardstick and insist on viewing us through the filter of subalternity.
On the context of COP30 in Belém, this narrative intensifies, reinforcing caricatured and stereotypical images created by the colonizer. News reports only show our shortcomings, in an attempt to delegitimize the city. An avalanche of “facts” is not presented innocently but shaped by xenophobia and prejudice.
Curiously, when convenient, Belém and the Amazon are the stage for good news. But with COP30, the ideal narrative for outsiders is that of an Amazonian city unprepared to host a major event. If it were any other city in the Amazon, the narrative would be the same. Historical erasure also occurs through denial of our capabilities: the debate goes far beyond infrastructure, it’s about who has the right to be a protagonist in their own territory, who writes history and who is authorized to be seen as “prepared” for the world.
I make no defense of vested interests or the exploitative processes that come with capital and major conferences. This is, rather, how I perceive the countless attacks Belém has suffered – attacks that I recognize as part of a very well-structured political project – even though I know and acknowledge the many challenges the city faces.
What is happening in Belém is a political process of such dishonesty that it cannot be ignored. I am not ashamed of my city. Those who rule it and invest in its inequalities should be ashamed. What I feel is indignation – indignation that our erasure continues, and that our problems are so often fueled by people who claim to have a “decolonial” perspective when they talk about marginalized territories but who, in practice, reinforce the very structures they claim to combat.
About the author:
Waleska Queiroz coordinates the Observatory of Baixadas, addressing race, climate, gender, and urban issues from her home city of Belém. This text reflects her personal views only. She does not speak on behalf of any organization, collective, or movement, but from her own perspective, experience, and analysis of how narratives about Belém and the Amazon are created, shaped, and disseminated.
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