What if I told you that the story of Morro do Breves is intertwined with a tale of erasure and reinvention? Today we stand near what was once a strategic high point. This is not just any hill. Morro do Breves echoes with forgotten voices.
Let’s journey back to a time when Rio de Janeiro was transforming itself. The early 20th century was a period of great change. Brazil sought to modernize. It wanted to present a new face to the world.
In 1922, a pivotal year, Brazil celebrated the centenary of its independence. The government planned a World Expo. The goal was to showcase the nation’s progress. But this ambition came at a cost. The destruction of Morro do Castelo reshaped Rio. It reflected a desire to erase the past.
Morro do Castelo was more than just a hill. It was the city’s birthplace. It was a strategic point for Portuguese rule. From there, the urban occupation of Rio radiated outward. Yet, it was seen as an obstacle to progress. Authorities wanted to create a “Paris of the Tropics”. This vision required razing what they deemed old and backward.
The demolition of Morro do Castelo produced new outcasts. Evicted residents sought housing in informal settlements. They moved to peripheries or hillside squats. This was part of a larger pattern. Working classes self-organized to meet neglected needs. The favela emerged as one solution.
The destruction was justified as urban cleansing. Officials claimed it was necessary for public health. They blamed the poor and their housing for unsanitary conditions. Erasing the colonial image was a priority. Morro do Castelo, once a landmark, became a symbol of backwardness.
The city was founded in 1565. It was first on Morro Cara de Cão. The definitive installation occurred in 1567 atop Morro do Castelo. This strategic location was key to maintaining Portuguese control.
Even those who defended the hill focused on its historical value. They emphasized conserving traditional architecture. The right to housing was largely ignored.
Augusto Malta, the city’s official photographer, documented this traumatic modernization. His photos captured the contradictions of progress. They showed the expulsion of people from the city center. They also revealed the poverty that followed abolition.
Mayor Carlos Sampaio likened Morro do Castelo to a decaying tooth. Its demolition led to the loss of historical assets. The São Sebastião Church disappeared. So did the Jesuit School and the Casa dos Pretos.
Today, little remains of Morro do Castelo. The Ladeira da Misericórdia is one exception. It was the first road for those climbing the hill. It is now a relic of predatory urbanization.
The area where the hill once stood is still known as Castelo. Buses going to this region bear its name. This keeps the memory alive in everyday life.
Morro do Castelo exerted its presence for centuries. Ironically, development led to its geographical elimination. Its story is a reminder. Progress can come at the expense of history and community.
So, as we stand here, remember the layers of history beneath our feet. Think about the choices that shaped this city. Consider the voices that were silenced. Morro do Breves, though separate from Morro do Castelo, shares in this history. It reminds us that progress must be balanced with preservation and justice.