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A
major new city rises in Brazil
From pastureland the government has built Palmas into a shiny state capital with
soaring buildings. Now, it just needs people to move in.
Los
Angeles Times
By Marla Dickerson, Times Staff Writer
December 30, 2006
PALMAS, BRAZIL — This planned city boasts stately boulevards, universities, a
gleaming airport and beaches — no small feat for a place deep in Brazil's
interior.
Never mind that only 208,000 people currently reside in a space designed to
accommodate 3 million residents, giving Palmas the feel of an empty movie set.
Seventeen years ago, Palmas was little more than a blueprint and scrubby
pastureland. It has sprung from the red dust to become this nation's
fastest-growing state capital.
And it's a testament to the aspirations
of Brazil's sprawling rural center and north, whose development has long
lagged behind that of the bustling southeast. "Palmas is the new
frontier," said Mayor Raul Filho, whose city was founded in 1989 as the
capital of Brazil's newest state, Tocantins. This region "is the future
of Brazil."
Although most of Brazil's 188 million residents still live within a few
hundred miles of the Atlantic Ocean, the nation's vast interior is
experiencing a surge of growth and investment.
The opening of Brazil's so-called cerrado, an immense expanse of
tropical savanna in the center of the country, began in earnest in the
1950s with the construction of Brasilia, about 400 miles south of
Palmas. The meticulously planned federal district was an effort to spur
development in the interior and shift population growth away from the
southeastern megalopolises of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo.
Advances in soil and plant science are driving new development. Nearly
100 million acres of poor-quality cerrado soil have been converted into
arable farm ground, most of that in the last 25 years. Cheap, abundant
land has turned central Brazil into a hothouse of soybean, cotton and
sugar cane production, boosting demand for infrastructure and services
to support a crucial export industry.
For Jarbas Meurer, who arrived in 1991 at age 14, Palmas was the chance
to live the Brazilian dream. His father was running a struggling
drugstore in the neighboring state of Mato Grosso when the family saw a
report about Palmas on a television news program. What better place to
start a new life than in a city that was literally being built from the
ground up.
Early settlers like Meurer lived like pioneers without electricity,
running water or other basic services. He remembers camping in a
makeshift shelter and bathing in a nearby river, a rare respite from the
choking dust kicked up by earthmovers scraping roads and home sites from
the virgin savanna.
Today he runs a building supply company, selling construction materials
to fortune seekers who arrive almost daily. Although Palmas isn't
expanding at the breakneck pace of the early days, its population
swelled 50% between 2000 and 2005. The 29-year-old Meurer said that
business was good and that he had put down roots.
"It is a chance to grow with the city," Meurer said. "There is
opportunity here."
Political tension sowed the seeds for the creation of Tocantins, which
encompasses what was previously the northern half of the state of Goaias.
Brazil is roughly the size of the continental United States, but it has
only 26 states. Some of them are so large that they dwarf neighboring
countries. The vast distances have created intrastate rivalries among
far-flung residents about where public resources should be spent.
"Politicians used to come up this way only in election years," said
Palmas businessman Emilson Vierira Santos, whose company manufactures
iron sheets and bars for the construction trade. "The rest of the time
we were forgotten."
The northern separatist movement led to the creation of Tocantins in
1988. Helped by billions of dollars in federal aid and inspired by the
legacy of Brazil's best-known master-planned city, legislators approved
a new capital smack in the center of the new state. The gold-domed
capitol looks like the palace of a Middle Eastern potentate.
"We are like a small Brasilia," Mayor Filho said.
Indeed, with its grandiose scale and soaring modernist buildings, Palmas
evokes the same sense of audacity, ambition and will to power. The
Palacio Araguaia, Palmas' main government building, anchors one of the
largest public squares in Latin America but is virtually devoid of
people. Residents on bicycles pedal unmolested down six-lane
thoroughfares suitable for Los Angeles traffic.
Whether Palmas grows as large as its founders' vision for it remains to
be seen. Maintaining a big-city infrastructure is proving costly.
Unregulated squatter settlements have emerged on the outskirts of the
city, thwarting plans for orderly expansion. Perhaps the biggest
challenge is creating jobs in a poor, rural and still largely isolated
region.
Officials are betting heavily on agriculture. Long home to gigantic
cattle herds and pineapple plantations, Tocantins is attracting cotton
and soybean farmers lured by cheap land and a sunny climate that enables
them to plant two or three crops a year. Officials are promoting the
production of Biodiesel, a renewable fuel made from a variety of crops,
including soybeans, castor beans and palm oil.
To help get those farm products to market quickly and at lower cost, the
Brazilian government is planning a railway to run the length of
Tocantins as well as projects to open its rivers to more freight
traffic. A series of hydroelectric plants has already made the state a
net exporter of electricity.
And it has given Palmas a new tourist attraction. A dam on the Tocantins
River created a massive reservoir in 2001 that has turned the sweltering
city into an inland resort with miles of beaches — albeit one where
swimmers need to be wary of piranhas.
Some environmentalists are appalled at government efforts to push
large-scale development along the southern fringes of the Amazon.
Brazil has a long track record of projects intended to foment growth in
its interior that have damaged the environment with little benefit for
residents.
Development could further marginalize the region's indigenous tribes,
who have already lost much of their traditional lands.
But for entrepreneurs such as Cleide Honorato, who owns a car rental
agency and a four-bedroom house with a swimming pool, growth and
prosperity have converged in Palmas.
"Newcomers are good for my business," she said. "I wish there were more
of them."
marla.dickerson@latimes.com
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