Hydroelectric power plants: a threat to the Brazilian Amazon
By Mariana Campos
It is the early hours of May 6, 2014 in Itaituba, a municipality of 100.000 located in the heart of the Amazon, in the northern region of Brazil. A group of about 200 people is attending another important meeting at the Pará Federal Institute’s auditorium, and the decisions that will be made there might change their lives, although in different levels depending on their roles, in a radical way.
The participants are discussing the federal government’s ambitious plan to use one of the last wild river watersheds in the Brazilian Amazon, the Tapajós, to build a complex of large hydroelectric power plants. As some of them are expected to be located in protected areas and indigenous territories, the participation of the civil society has to be greater than ever.
Over the last months, several gatherings have been scheduled with the local communities that live near the spots where the plants will be installed, but finding a common agreement is anything but easy. This morning, for example, mayors of cities situated in the Tapajós Valley who foresee opportunities for business in the area are sharing the room with environmental NGOs, which are totally against the dams. Later on, the report made by the organizers of the meeting will print Itaituba’s mayor Eliene Nunes’ words, saying that the region is favourable for the hydroelectric power plants as long as they guarantee Tapajós sustainable development.
A second opinion, however, would perhaps be enough to prove that Nunes’ speech shouldn’t be taken for granted. In fact, as conversations go on, the more people get divided and the more controversial the project appears to be. Clearly, a crucial debate is taking place in Brazil at the moment, but the society is far from sharing the same view on the subject and there are many reasons for different groups to either support or oppose the dams. Put simply, the government, looking ahead as Brazil’s economy grows, is in favour of the complex and have the support of many businessmen and a few politicians who have a big influence in the area, whereas ecologists and indigenous groups are against it, afraid of the negative impacts of such an undertaking.
A hydroelectric power-based country
Brazil has been experiencing a great economic growth over the last years. The biggest state in South America has a rapidly expanding middle-class and, in order to satisfy its domestic energy demand, it has to add about six thousand MW between now and 2022 to its established generating capacity of 121 thousand MWs, according to Brazil’s Energy Research Company (EPE). In energy resources, Brazil is a lucky nation since it has a wide range of choices: besides being the world’s third biggest hydropower potential (China and Russia are in the top positions), it has huge deposits of offshore oil and gas and a vast potential for solar and wind energy (probably among the three biggest, too). In addition, Brazil has the world’s largest sugarcane crop, which allows it to generate bagasse, a fibrous residue that burns in high-pressure boilers. Finally, recent research suggests the country might also have shale gas.
Today, the Brazilian energy grid is fundamentally constituted by hydroelectric generation, which corresponds to 76,9 percent of the total, according to the Brazilian Ministry of Mine and Energy. Thermal power plants and alternative sources such as wind and biomass are supplementary. As far as engineers are concerned, hydroelectric power is usually considered a clean and renewable type of energy because, when in use, the systems don’t produce greenhouse gases. Also, once a dam is installed, electricity can be produced at a constant rate.
Nonetheless, due to the persistence in keeping investing in this sort of energy, the government has been forced to find more remote locations to install hydroelectric complexes, often where natural and cultural heritage are better preserved. This is happening in the Amazon now. It seems doubtful to label hydroelectric power green when it is likely to cause a devastating impact in the most important rainforest on the planet.
A biodiversity sanctuary
Anyone navigating Tapajós River would be amazed by its greatness and beauty. One of the largest tributaries in the Amazon Basin, it has rich and diverse fauna and flora. So far, about 320 species of fish have been recognized, among them 65 which can only be found there. According to a survey published by The Great Rivers Partnership, a global NGO that focuses on the conservation of rivers, the diversity in the eco-region is far from being completely catalogued and the estimation of the total number of fish species there is actually more than 500.
In reality, the Tapajós Basin ranks within the top 25 percent in terms of global importance for both terrestrial biodiversity rarity and freshwater, with large forest areas along its corridor. Essential to the maintenance of the micro-climate of the region, these are very vulnerable to climate change. In order to guarantee the preservation of their biodiversity, huge areas of rainforests have been demarcated by the Brazilian government over the last decades, resulting in 22 conservation units. Javan Lopes from Instituto Chico Mendes (ICMBio), the institute responsible for the administration of federal conservation units, says that this particular region hosts the largest set of protected areas in Brazil.
“Itaituba neighbourhoods alone have 11 conservation units surrounding the Tapajós River basin,” he told the website O Eco. Put together with the indigenous lands – also protected, at least in theory – the 22 conservation units comprise a total area of 200.480 km2, which is the equivalent of the combined territory of Switzerland, Belgium, Holland and Denmark.
Ironically enough, the demarcations in the region started during the military dictatorship in the 1970s. Only two years after the launch of the much-hated Trans-Amazonian highway, which opened a 4.000 km rip of deforestation in 1972, the same government created the Amazon National Park in order to protect more than one million hectare by law. Successive presidents stuck to the environmental legislation and created more conservation units nearby. Now, as many of these parks seem to be a stumbling block to President Dilma Rousseff’s plans, she has no option but to reduce their size so that the dams can be properly installed in territories no longer protected by the Brazilian legislation.
Nowhere to go
The Brazilian government expects to have the whole complex of five damns in operation no later than 2020. The main hydroelectric plant alone, named São Luís do Tapajós and located at Tapajós River near the municipalities of Jacareacanga and Itaituba, is predicted to have a generation capacity of 6.133 megawatts, making it the fourth leading plant in the country at a cost of 25 billion reais (12,5 billion dollars). It’s overflow should be approximately 722 km2.
The other dams planned in the complex are Jatobá, on the same river, and Jamanxin, Cachoeira do Caí and Cachoeira dos Patos, on the Jamanxin River. At the moment, Ibama, the licensing arm of the Environment Ministry, is analysing a series of studies about the region and the potential impacts the reservoirs would provoke in its ecosystem. Without Ibama’s license the government can’t go on.
Mrs. Rousseff might have managed to deal with the conservation units’ boundaries, but this was just the beginning. If the project is approved, the hydroelectric power plants will flood 1979,5 km2, an area larger than the city of São Paulo. Thus, the next step in a series of environmental and social hurdles is that she will have to find an appropriate place for at least 20 thousand people who will have to be relocated, according to preliminary studies by the government.
With neither money nor work, these displaced people would be forced to try to make new lives in the nearest urban areas, leading these cities to experience a population boom for which they are not prepared. Itaituba, for instance, is expected to have the number of inhabitants increased by 50 percent in the next years, which could be good for its economy if the lack of urban infrastructure wasn’t an issue.
For some potential migrants though, it doesn’t really matter whether the cities are prepared to receive them or not, as their wish is to not move there in the first place. Indigenous groups are undoubtedly the most impacted: having their values attached to the forest, they are terrified of the idea of moving to a concrete jungle. "No one from the government has come to talk to us," Juarez Saw, the 45-year-old chief of Sawre Muybu, one of the affected indigenous villages, told the Inter Press Service last December. "For us, the land is our mother. It is where we live and raise our kids and grandkids. We have nowhere to go if the government forces us off."
In fact, dealing with indigenous rights has been a big headache for Brazilian politicians for a long time and it wouldn’t be different this time. Chiefs and warriors from a number of tribes have made the trek to Brasília, the capital of Brazil, a few times since the project became public in 2012. They constantly try to meet politicians to demand the demarcation of their territory and the right to prior consultation in order to block the Tapajós hydroelectric dam, which could flood several of their villages.
Sônia Guajajara, coordinator of the Association of Indigenous Peoples of Brazil, is critical towards the way the government is conducting the talks with Indians and accuses President Rousseff of not caring about them. “She will do anything to make the economy grow, no matter who is on her way.” An indigenous leader herself, she is against Indians receiving money from the government as a type of compensation for the loss of their lands, because for the Indians money ends up being a source of conflict as they are not used to dealing with it.
“Mrs. Rousseff thinks we have to buy, consume and organize co-operatives in order to make money. She assumes that, to have quality of life and be happy, we have to have properties, hot shower and brick houses,” Guajajara told BBC Brasil in a recent interview. According to her, freedom is the real meaning of quality of life to Indians.
To guarantee their freedom Indians are indeed willing to fight for their lands. The battle, however, is not a fair one. Soon after Munduruku tribe representatives resisted the construction of hydroelectric plants at Tapajós River in the beginning of 2013, the government passed a law – the decree 7.957/13 – regulating the employment of federal forces in environmental conflicts. In other words, the national security force is now allowed to enter indigenous lands to conduct environmental studies, which is clearly a way of inhibiting opposition.
Not only have federal representatives been turning their backs on the indigenous groups, but so have local politicians. Eying financial compensations the municipalities will get for the installation of the dams, the mayor of Jacareacanga, with 40 thousand inhabitants, is a great supporter of the venture. Several indigenous communities which are at risk of being flooded are located in the municipality. As the majority of the population is against the reservoirs, he started playing a manipulative game, by naming his Secretary of Indian Affairs, Ivânio Nogueira, to be the town’s only representative in the regular meetings between the government and the civil society. In a letter recently signed by Indian chiefs, they say the meetings don’t represent them in any circumstances.
Will the pretty picture remain?
If the decision was in the Indians’ hands, they would surely vote for maintaining the Tapajós River’s biodiversity, guaranteeing the role its watershed plays in the Amazon as it’s responsible for water cycling and carbon stocks as well as soil, ecosystem and habitat protection. Having lived there for centuries, the Indians know that the loss of forests can lead to a severe savannization process in the region.
In reality, the argument that dams are cheaper and cleaner than other sources of energy becomes weaker when the issue of how much the impact on locals is downplayed is brought to the table. Also, the value of other uses of rivers – for fishing, transport and biodiversity – is often not considered. As for hydropower being low-carbon, experts in the field generally point out that reservoirs in tropical regions can release large amounts of methane, a much more powerful greenhouse gas.
Facing a lot of pressure, ICMBio affirms that it will only be able to truly estimate the risks to Tapajós’ watershed when studies on environmental impacts are published by Ibama. However, previous experiences in the Amazon seem to show enough evidence of why building dams in the rainforest can be a bad idea. The most famous example is the Balbina dam near Manaus, the capital of Amazonas, put up in the 1980s: it flooded 2.400 km2 of rainforest for a piffling capacity of 250 MW. Philip Fearnside of the National Institute for Amazonian Research, a government body in Manaus, said its vast and stagnant reservoir makes it a “methane factory.” Proportionate to output, it emits far more greenhouse gases than even the most inefficient coal plant, he told The Economist.
Claudio Sales, president of Acende Brasil, an energy-research institute, says Brazil is a privileged country for having a wide range of energy sources and must use them all. “The hydropower potential in the country will be exhausted by 2030 and we need to start thinking about alternative ways.” He points out that wind power has the potential to generate 10 percent of the total energy demand of the country in 10 years, but there must be subsidies to make it happen. Likewise, solar power alone could meet about 10 times the entire demand of the country, according to a report on Energy Generation and Sustainability published by The International Rivers Network in 2012.
Sales explains that the largest hydropower potential is located at the Amazon, with around 100 MW. However, the fact that many of the good spots are inside indigenous protected areas reduces this potential to 30 MW. Whether or not the Brazilian government will respect the Indians and their environment at Tapajós watershed, nobody can be sure. The only certainty so far is that they are ready to resist.
Mariana Campos is a Brazilian journalist. She has previously worked as a press officer for the Governor of Rio de Janeiro; as a reporter for the Jungle Drums magazine in London, UK; and directed a documentary about a north-eastern Brazilian village, which later won the Best Environmental Reportage prize at Amazonia Film Festival. You can find her on Twitter @mari_campos83
Photo is an aerial view of Itaituba, Brazil by Arlyson Souza, via Wiki Commons
