Details
Just over two years ago, in May 2024, the southernmost Brazilian state of Rio Grande do Sul was hit by massive flooding, the largest socio-environmental disaster in the region’s history. For more than 40 days, entire cities in the Porto Alegre area remained submerged under the waters of the Guaíba River basin—an extreme event that revealed not only the intensity of the climate crisis, but also deep social inequalities and state negligence in assisting affected families.
The Movimento dos Atingidos por Barragens (Movement of People Affected by Dams, MAB) was particularly active in the aftermath of the floods. MAB is a national organization that has worked for 35 years organizing those affected by the Brazilian power sector. Recently, it has expanded its scope to address the impacts of climate change: material destruction, the disruption of community ties, food insecurity, and the struggle for fundamental rights. In the face of government inaction, MAB organizes the victims of climate disasters through emergency food security initiatives and community-led efforts to install solar powered electrical systems.
Alexania Rossato, from MAB’s national coordination team in Rio Grande do Sul, explains how MAB expanded its work to include those affected by climate crisis events, the process of organizing families during the major floods of 2023 and 2024, and the current challenges faced by people and organizations involved in this struggle.
How did MAB become involved in working with those affected by the climate crisis and, more specifically, by major floods?
The struggles that gave rise to MAB were led by people affected by the boom in the construction of massive hydroelectric plant during the military dictatorship 1970s. These were localized struggles in rural areas. Here in the south in the Uruguay River basin, there was a project for 25 dams to be built. In the early 2000s, MAB began to address the economic model of the power sector, as the energy issue extends far beyond local populations. This broadened the scope of our struggles, and the movement began to operate in urban areas as well, addressing the privatization of the power sector, skyrocketing electricity rates, the commodification of energy, and the pegging of electricity prices to international oil prices—a maneuver that drastically increased power bills in Brazil. We brought a debate we had been holding in rural areas with families affected by dams into the urban context, since we are all affected by the power sector model. We carried out a very important campaign in Brazil called “O preço da luz é um roubo” (electricity prices are a rip-off). It was an effort to politicize the energy issue, highlighting the contrast between a right and a commodity.
In 2015, the Vale dam collapsed in the city of Mariana, releasing approximately 50 million cubic meters of mining tailings into the Doce River basin, devastating many communities and polluting the basin all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. In 2019, another tailings dam collapsed in Brumadinho. That marked a turning point for MAB, which began working with communities affected by dam collapses as well. And with the extreme weather events driven by the climate crisis we have begun working with those affected by these events. We started in 2022, when heavy rains caused severe damage in Jequié, and then in São Sebastião in 2023, where the intensity of the rainfall was already signaling this shift toward climate issues and extreme events.
We produced an analysis of environmental issues and the climate crisis, examining their relationship to the capitalist mode of production—which is the underlying problem—and the link between the climate crisis and capital accumulation. We also considered how to create mechanisms to deal with this. In 2023, there were massive floods in the Taquari Valley, here in Rio Grande do Sul, affecting about 30 municipalities. It was horrific; the water rose more than 20 meters—something we had never seen before. That experience made it very clear to us that we needed to act on behalf of those affected by the floods. So today, MAB organizes families across Brazil affected by dam construction, dam failures, and now those affected by the climate crisis—a demographic that is growing rapidly. When extreme events occur, we seek to build a grassroots organization to fight for the rights of those affected.
Could you describe how you work with families affected by the floods?
After the 2023 floods in the Taquari Valley, we first gained experience by setting up a community kitchen. That was how we reached the neighborhoods and the people who had lost everything and had been in shelters for a long time. The kitchen experience in 2023 taught us that we should do something similar after the 2024 floods in Porto Alegre, where we planned ten solidarity kitchens. We set up a massive kitchen in Canoas, which operated from May to October, serving 180,000 meals.
At first, we didn’t know the extent of the flooding in those areas. We couldn’t even reach the hardest-hit places because the destruction was so severe. There were no roads—nothing at all. The water receded very slowly, taking an average of 40 days in Porto Alegre. In the Taquari Valley you get a completely different kind of flood. There, the area inundates violently and rapidly in a single day. The river rises 20 meters and, within two days, the water is entirely gone again, leaving only destruction behind. It’s a very deep valley, and the river currents are powerful. We set up two solidarity kitchens there, in the municipalities of Estrela and Arroio do Meio. It’s a highly conservative region. Yet, there is also a working class—people employed in the local factories—who live along the riverbanks and lose their homes and everything they own when the floods hit. The local mayors refuse to provide assistance, claiming it’s up to those affected to fend for themselves. We weren’t particularly welcome because we advocate that the state must support people in rebuilding their lives. As a result, there is a degree of political persecution in the Taquari Valley regarding grassroots organizations.
We know that families' problems cannot be resolved overnight or through short-term, targeted public policies. True reparation is only achieved through the struggle for the rights of those affected.
We know that families' problems cannot be resolved overnight or through short-term, targeted public policies. True reparation is only achieved through the struggle for the rights of those affected. In Mariana, the dam burst back in 2015, and to this day many families remain homeless while the entire environment is contaminated; they cannot cultivate the land or use the water from the Doce River. So we knew that simply providing food wasn’t enough. At first, it was necessary—families no longer had stoves, gas, or anything. The very first thing we did was clean up the houses and remove the debris; we couldn’t even access the streets. When people return to their homes, they have nothing left: no stoves, no furniture, no doors, no electricity, no water. It’s a matter of rebuilding everything from scratch. Through this process, we also help them articulate their demands, working on political consciousness while providing grassroots training. At MAB, political education and organization are intertwined. Of course projects involve technical aspects, but we combine technical debate with political discussion.
How did this organizational process unfold with the affected families?
First, we established solidarity kitchens to connect with people and build relationships of trust. In the beginning, there is an influx of aid, donations, and support organizations. But once the initial wave of solidarity fades, the people are still left with nothing. We were the ones who stayed. We established a reference point in the neighborhoods and on the streets to distribute meals, identifying a local leader in each area to coordinate the distribution of 300 meal boxes a day. At that stage, everything was still covered in mud; people were in despair and grieving. We saw hopeless expressions in their eyes, yet people kept trying, cleaning up. We gradually established these reference points across various neighborhoods, and that was the seed for the affected residents' committees. We started holding small meetings and mapping out the people's core demands. Naturally, the immediate demand was the construction of levees to ensure safety and protection. This remains a critical issue today; everyone lives in constant fear of a new flood. Then there is the ongoing water crisis: In the flooded areas, there is a severe lack of drinking water. Based on this realization, we raised the issue of hygiene and denounced the privatization of water utilities, framing the deterioration of the water supply network as a direct consequence of privatization. In Canoas, for instance, the private utility failed to carry out preventive maintenance and did not clear the water mains. Now, any rainfall triggers a flood.
We found many exceptional people who now coordinate our grassroots groups, militants who had been left adrift, with no hope of building a new left, and many people who wanted to be politically active but simply didn’t know how.
Regarding food security, we also sought a partnership with the National Food Supply Company (Conab)—a public enterprise that regulates food stocks in Brazil—to guarantee the distribution of food baskets to families. This partnership will continue through to the end of this year. We have also organized campaigns for the reconstruction of public infrastructure, particularly schools and healthcare facilities. In some areas, these services are still being provided in temporary canvas structures; they have not been rebuilt to this day.
We built the movement by developing an agenda alongside the affected people, establishing relations with municipal governments, negotiating with the state government, and challenging the federal government. We organized delegations to Brasília to demand federal policies. In September 2024, when the situation was still critical, we staged a massive demonstration. In 2025, on the anniversary of the disaster, we organized another major mobilization alongside various social movements and unions. Throughout this organizing process, we encountered many people whom the Workers’ Party (PT) had abandoned, who rediscovered their energy for the struggle and a sense of purpose in organizing their communities. We found many exceptional people who now coordinate our grassroots groups, militants who had been left adrift, with no hope of building a new left, and many people who wanted to be politically active but simply didn’t know how.
What other initiatives were developed with the families as a result of this organizational process?
As part of the negotiations with the federal government, we created the "Productive Backyards" project, funded by the Banco do Brasil Foundation to operate throughout the state, but primarily in the affected areas. A fundamental part of this process is the discussion of food sovereignty in both urban and rural areas. One way to address this is by encouraging food production. We established 200 productive backyards across the municipalities where we operate—along the border, in the Alto Uruguai region, on the border with the state of Santa Catarina, and in a community in Estrela. Another initiative was the production and distribution of solar panels. In this case, we have two models: one for generating electricity and another for solar water heating, a system that heats water for showers and bathroom sinks. These panels are built by mutirões (collective work parties) involving families organized by the movement, allowing us to tackle high energy costs and shortages.
And how did you address the housing issue?
The main housing recovery policy was the federal government’s Compra Assistida (assisted purchase) program, which grants up to 200,000 Brazilian reals (approximately 38,000 US dollars) to families who have lost their homes to purchase new housing. This was the best program for addressing the displacement and loss of homes, but we have major criticisms. We presented the government with a proposal for collective resettlements: building housing for entire communities in safe locations rather than providing individualized financial assistance. Our fight was to ensure that homes were rebuilt in resettlement areas, so as not to break community bonds, allowing families to maintain their social ties and preventing further social fragmentation. But it is not easy to implement this policy; it is more convenient for the government to simply transfer resources directly to individuals.
Consequently, while families have a new home today, they face other issues: Many sought housing in coastal cities, for example, which became overwhelmed with new residents without the infrastructure to serve them. There weren’t enough schools, healthcare facilities, or anything else. Another problem is that it disrupts community and family ties, so many people are now putting the homes they bought up for rent and seeking rental housing back in the regions where they lived before the floods, where their relatives live, or where they can find jobs more easily. We didn’t intervene in this because it was a highly individualized matter involving registration in the government program. Our intervention in housing occurred in cases of attempted forced evictions of families living in areas deemed high risk—families we were already organizing—when the municipal government showed up with excavators to tear down their homes. Even though they hadn’t yet received their new homes through the assisted purchase program, 1,500 families were driven out. We joined forces, pressured the Public Prosecutor’s Office to intervene, and urged the federal government to expedite the assisted purchase process for these families.
We also raised the demand for a program to allocate funds for home renovations, which was very important to the families. A specific project was needed for rebuilding homes within urban areas, but nothing of the sort was implemented. The reconstruction should have been carried out through cooperatives, similar to the model of the Minha Casa Minha Vida Entidades community-based public housing program, but specifically tailored to the renovation of homes damaged by the floods, which often required critical repairs to doors, electrical wiring, and plumbing. To this day, many have not completed these renovations or have only repaired part of their houses. People had to resort to high-interest loans, often in the informal market, leaving them at the mercy of criminal groups. Today they are severely indebted to loan sharks or banks. Our proposal, which boasted a massive reach while being inexpensive for the government, would have prevented this problem, but our request was denied.
What are the movement’s prospects in the near future?
Climate scientists are not painting a rosy picture. A change in the mode of production would be necessary to address climate change seriously. But obviously, that is not the path of capitalism, which seeks ever-greater expansion, reinforcing the very logic that is generating the crisis. So our outlook is grim. But the popular struggle must forge ahead. I think governments are completely unprepared to handle these situations. During the floods of 2023 and 2024, local governments were entirely unequipped to rescue people or salvage belongings from their homes. It fell to organized groups or local churches to provide immediate assistance. We would drive out there with our truck and see the utter desperation of people begging us for help. But things remain unchanged. The governor here in Rio Grande do Sul is far from being prepared for whatever comes next. There isn’t even a proper flood protection system in Porto Alegre.
A change in the mode of production would be necessary to address climate change seriously. But obviously, that is not the path of capitalism, which seeks ever-greater expansion, reinforcing the very logic that is generating the crisis.
On top of that the prioritization of the funds from the federal government was deeply misguided. A total of 112 billion Brazilian reals (21.5 billion US dollars) was sent to Rio Grande do Sul. That’s a massive amount of money. But the state government allocated a huge chunk of money—which should have been used for reparations and prevention—to privatize road infrastructure, install highway tolls, and facilitate public-private concessions. There is intense market pressure to capture these resources, the "flood business.” Do you know how many homes the governor actually delivered? Only 196. A sum of 800 million Brazilian reals (154 million US dollars) was spent on building just 196 housing units. These are tiny homes, and many people are still living in temporary housing without even being on the list for permanent housing. Of the 14 billion Brazilian reals they had provisioned by January of this year, 7.4 billion was earmarked to lure the market into highway privatization, a complete inversion of priorities.
The way families were registered is also a major issue. Local governments were responsible for determining who qualified as affected, and each municipality established different criteria; there was no national standard. Consequently, many families today are not registered because they became invisible to the state. These are people who are now much more impoverished. Those who are not registered get no assistance at all.
How can these operating conditions be improved?
We need to prepare ourselves as a popular organization. I think we learned a lot from this unprecedented situation. For example, we organized solidarity brigades; hundreds of militants came to Rio Grande do Sul from many different states to help during the most critical period, and it was an immense learning experience for everyone. The people who came here now have firsthand experience on how to act and confront a crisis of that scale. During the most critical period for infrastructure, the unions stepped up. I believe that in moments of crisis and high risk like the one we endured, we are able to take joint action and support one another. These moments are ripe for us to act in unity and to be more efficient in our organization and struggle.
Government funds ended up in the hands of far-right forces, who took the money and are now claiming credit for it.
As for the left—including governments, parties, and the broader institutional sector—I think they need to learn. They became completely blind to the federal pact and failed to value our role as a movement. They prioritized coordination with mayors and governors, preferring institutional meetings over engaging with civil society. Of course that institutional dialogue was necessary too, but they handed over billions of Brazilian reals to them without oversight or accountability. Ultimately, those funds ended up in the hands of far-right forces, who took the money and are now claiming credit for it. I can guarantee that we will fare poorly in elections across the affected regions, even though the federal government was the only one that actually did anything for the families. It’s useless to dispatch a mountain of money without oversight, without showing who is actually on the ground working with the people, while remaining trapped in state bureaucracy and the bourgeois logic of just dumping cash. Those resources could have been channeled toward a sharper political dispute.
Recently, in the affected areas of the Taquari Valley, there was a large march with crowds displaying Jair Bolsonaro’s symbols and demanding freedom for those imprisoned over the 2022 attempted coup d’état. Our region is like this now, ultra-conservative. Rio Grande do Sul, and even Porto Alegre—which was once hailed as the capital of hope during the World Social Forums—is now dominated by the right. It’s a great shame, but we are building an alternative path. We are reconnecting with militants who are no longer organized, forging new leadership, and reclaiming our ideological ground through daily work with the people who have been abandoned. It’s a battle over the model of society.
