What does progress mean when it silences the river and its people? Explore the story of Porto Novo and the resistance along the Tocantins — read more in the full article.

Author: Ana Carolina Cavalcanti

Read in Portuguese

From Brasília’s perspective, the project looks promising: transforming the Tocantins River into a fully navigable waterway, allowing barges to transport soy, minerals, and fuel all year round.

But for those who live along its banks, this plan isn’t progress. It’s a threat.

What’s at Stake

The community of Porto Novo, in Goianésia do Pará, has lived in constant anxiety since the derrocagem (rock removal) of the Pedral do Lourenço was approved — a process that involves blasting or removing rocky formations from the riverbed to allow large vessels to pass year-round.

During the flood season, navigation was possible; but in the dry season, barges would get stuck. The derrocagem is presented as the “technical solution” to this problem.

Yet behind this so-called solution are names and stories that never appear in official documents.

Porto Novo, for example, was not listed among the affected communities because it lies about 40 km from the project area — excluded by rigid territorial criteria.

What they ignore is that this community sits on a backwater of the river — a side branch where everything that flows through the main Tocantins eventually arrives. It’s not an isolated margin; it’s a living part of the hydrological system, receiving sediments, waste, and flow alterations.

“We’re worried about how fishing will be,” says Rosa Maria, a resident of Porto Novo and member of the Meli Network.

And she’s right: if debris and residues from the explosions are dumped into the water, the fish disappear, reproduction is disrupted, and traditional fishing techniques become unviable.

License Granted, People Silenced

To make matters worse, Ibama (the federal environmental agency) issued the installation license without properly consulting many affected communities.

The environmental and social studies have serious gaps: they don’t measure who will truly lose from the explosions, they fail to consider fish migration, and they ignore long-term impacts on the river and its species.

A recent judicial inspection, reported by O Eco, confirmed these flaws.

In July, after actions by the Federal Public Prosecutor’s Office and complaints from social movements, the courts suspended the license, according to the Interstate Movement of Babassu Coconut Breakers (MIQCB).

But that doesn’t mean the threat is gone: legal battles continue, decisions are still pending, and the community of Porto Novo remains without a voice — exposed and at risk.

The Future of Porto Novo

If the community’s fears come true, Porto Novo may cease to exist. Many residents are already considering relocation, because without clean water, fish, and a healthy river, there’s little left to sustain life.

It’s no exaggeration to say that communities like Porto Novo could be erased in the bureaucratic silence of environmental licensing.

The logic of “mega-projects” — framed around modernization, logistical integration, and economic growth — crushes what is most essential yet invisible: traditional ways of life.

Rosa Maria’s story, representing Porto Novo, echoes the voices of many other Amazonian communities now fighting to continue existing in their territories.

As Brazil prepares to host COP30 and speak about ecological transition, it must listen to those who live by the river.

Because progress that erases communities is not development. It is devastation.