Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil (Mobility & Politics) 3030356701, 9783030356705

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MOBILITY & POLITICS SERIES EDITORS: MARTIN GEIGER PARVATI RAGHURAM · WILLIAM WALTERS

Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil Terry-Ann Jones

Mobility & Politics Series Editors Martin Geiger Carleton University Ottawa, Canada Parvati Raghuram Open University Milton Keynes, UK William Walters Carleton University Ottawa, Canada

Mobility & Politics Series Editors: Martin Geiger, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada; Parvati Raghuram, Open University, Milton Keynes, UK; William Walters, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada Global Advisory Board: Michael Collyer, University of Sussex; Susan B.  Coutin, University of California; Raúl Delgado Wise, Universidad Autónoma de Zacatecas; Nicholas De Genova, King’s College London; Eleonore Kofman, Middlesex University; Rey Koslowski, University at Albany; Loren B.  Landau, University of the Witwatersrand; Sandro Mezzadra, Università di Bologna; Alison Mountz, Wilfrid Laurier University; Brett Neilson, University of Western Sydney; Antoine Pécoud, Université Paris 13; Ranabir Samaddar, Mahanirban Research Group Calcutta; Nandita Sharma, University of Hawai’i at Manoa; Tesfaye Tafesse, Addis Ababa University; Thanh-Dam Truong, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Human mobility, whatever its scale, is often controversial. Hence it carries with it the potential for politics. A core feature of mobility politics is the tension between the desire to maximise the social and economic benefits of migration and pressures to restrict movement. Transnational communities, global instability, advances in transportation and communication, and concepts of ‘smart borders’ and ‘migration management’ are just a few of the phenomena transforming the landscape of migration today. The tension between openness and restriction raises important questions about how different types of policy and politics come to life and influence mobility. Mobility & Politics invites original, theoretically and empirically informed studies for academic and policy-oriented debates. Authors examine issues such as refugees and displacement, migration and citizenship, security and cross-border movements, (post-)colonialism and mobility, and transnational movements and cosmopolitics. More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14800

Terry-Ann Jones

Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil

Terry-Ann Jones Department of Sociology and Anthropology Fairfield University Fairfield, CT, USA

Mobility & Politics ISBN 978-3-030-35670-5    ISBN 978-3-030-35671-2 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: Modern building window © saulgranda/Getty This Palgrave Pivot imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgments

When Dina Franceschi invited me on a faculty trip to Brazil in 2006, she unknowingly planted the seed that resulted in this book. I am grateful to her for the introduction and the encouragement that followed. Members of Fairfield University’s Department of Sociology and Anthropology, International Studies Program, and Latin American and Caribbean Program were supportive in a variety of ways; in particular, Dave Crawford, Dennis Hodgson, William Vasquez Mazariegos, and Jessy Alicea. Beth Boquet, Stephanie Storms, and Olivia Harriott were important sources of encouragement. I am grateful for having received the 2018 Robert E. Wall Award, which afforded me the time to complete this manuscript. I thank the editorial staff at Palgrave Macmillan and the anonymous reviewers whose thoughtful reading and feedback bolstered the book. I also extend my gratitude to Keisha-Khan Perry and Anton Allahar for their careful reading and generous comments. This project would not have been possible without my colleagues and friends in Brazil. I am grateful to Marcos Pedlowski, Teresa Peixoto Faria, Luis André Sales, and Fernando Luna, among many others. Pastoral do Migrante was an invaluable source of guidance, assistance, and information, particularly the indomitable Irmã Inês Facioli. I thank the 45 migrant workers who gave me their time, opened their homes, and shared their stories. This project was seen to fruition only because of them. My support network is broad and at the center of it is my family, a family of migrants spread across four countries, who motivate me and for whom I am deeply grateful. In particular, I am thankful for my mother’s unwavering support and encouragement, and the inspiration that my v

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nephews unknowingly provide. I also acknowledge with gratitude and respect my uncle Zeddick Banton, whose experience as a migrant sugarcane harvester in Florida in his youth inspired my curiosity about the Brazilian migrant labor experience. I am grateful to my dear friends who have become my kin: Colin Donaldson, Fiona Lindo, Karen Flynn, Sheldon Clarke, Anthony Stevenson, Trudy Guy, Corinna Mullin, Ujju Aggarwal, Baba Mashologu, Naomi Thompson, Angela Deh, and the Allicock family who were supportive in a number of ways and are all part of the community that I have come to rely on and cherish.

Contents

1 Sugarcane Labor in Brazil  1 2 Migration and Internal Colonialism 21 3 The Life and Work of a Manual Sugarcane Harvester 43 4 The Outsider Status of Internal Migrants 73 5 The (Un)Sustainability of Manual Sugarcane Harvesting 97 Index115

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List of Figures

Fig. 3.1 Fig. 3.2 Fig. 3.3 Fig. 3.4 Fig. 3.5

Manual sugarcane harvester in typical posture Measuring tool used to check workers’ pace Shared space of workers’ rented dwelling Manual sugarcane harvester in protective clothing Sugarcane burning on the outskirts of town

50 51 52 54 57

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List of Tables

Table 1.1 Economic and social indicators comparing Timbiras and Guariba7 Table 1.2 Regional sugarcane production 16 Table 5.1 Impact of mechanization on employment 99

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CHAPTER 1

Sugarcane Labor in Brazil

Abstract  The book begins with a cursory discussion of the history of Brazil’s sugarcane industry and some of the past and contemporary challenges, particularly with regard to the use of labor, from slave labor to the current model of recruiting seasonal domestic migrants from less affluent northeastern states. Brazil’s social and economic structures facilitate the stark inequalities among citizens that produce this type of seasonal migration. This chapter examines the social structures that were created during the early, colonial period of sugarcane production, probing the divisions among citizens that have endured to the present time. The chapter also discusses contemporary forces that sustain the dynamics of inequality, such as globalization, and the workers’ resistance to exploitation through efforts such as the landless workers’ movement. Keywords  Brazil • Sugarcane • Slavery • Colonialism • Latifundia • MST

Introduction My first visit to Brazil in summer 2006 coincided with Brazil’s loss to France and elimination from the World Cup. Besides the devastation about the World Cup outcome, the most remarkable aspect of my visit was a conversation with a migrant sugarcane worker who resided on a land reform settlement outside of the city of Campos dos Goytacazes in upstate © The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2_1

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Rio de Janeiro. My casual conversation with this man sparked the curiosity that led to the research that resulted in this monograph. Through a mixture of my Spanish, his Portuguese, and much gesticulation, the man explained that he had traveled from the northeast with his family to seek better livelihood opportunities. He arrived after the sugarcane harvesting season had already begun, but with the help of relatives who connected him with a recruiter, he was still able to find employment cutting sugarcane. He explained to me that the work was physically difficult and the financial gains were limited. Although his experience told an interesting story of internal labor migration, what was particularly fascinating to me were the parallels between his story and the labor migration experiences of countless Jamaican workers who made their way to the United States (Florida and Louisiana in particular) to manually harvest sugarcane, a migration flow that I was much more familiar with. In the Brazilian case, workers were migrating within their country of citizenship and were consequently free of any international borders or political restrictions, while in the case of Jamaicans in the United States, the guest workers were dependent on the recruitment and permission of both the Jamaican and US governments before they could begin their journey. In both cases, the work was physically challenging but the salary, while minimal, afforded the workers a better standard of living than they otherwise had. Since 1941, Jamaican guest workers have been manually harvesting sugarcane in Florida through a joint agreement between the governments of the two countries. However, since the mid-1990s, mechanical harvesters have been used to cut sugarcane in Florida, and consequently the guest worker program has shifted away from sugarcane harvesting, focusing instead on other forms of agricultural labor such as harvesting tobacco, apples, and oranges. The program remains sizable, with close to 200,000 visas being issued in the United States for temporary agricultural workers in 2018 (Felter 2019). While the trend in the Brazilian sugarcane industry has been toward mechanizing as well, through the early 2000s, the industry was still dependent on manual labor, particularly migrant workers who travel seasonally from the less resourced parts of the country’s northeast. As was the case among Jamaican migrant workers in the US sugarcane industry, Brazilian migrant workers who cut sugarcane for a living face an array of challenges related to the physical demands of the work, the meager pay, and the transient nature of their lives as seasonal migrant workers. Most striking were the parallels between the domestic and international contexts—from the structural inequalities, which are rooted in c­ olonialism,

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to the discrimination that workers face. This project emphasizes inequality as the central reason for the disparities that produce these types of labor movements. Inequality between Brazil’s impoverished northeast, where unemployed workers abound, and the more affluent south, where there is an abundance of capital, leads to migration from the labor abundant to the capital abundant. To explain these dynamics, I examine the sociological approach of internal colonialism, which underscores the differentials in labor and capital between the two regions. With measurements of inequality such as a Palma index of 4.3 and a Gini coefficient of 0.5118, earning it the unenviable rank as the world’s 8th most unequal country, Brazil has gained infamy for its income disparity. This study of seasonal, migrant sugarcane workers in Brazil uses the sugarcane industry as a medium through which to analyze the deep-seated inequalities that are pervasive in contemporary Brazil. Education, employment, income, health, and relative political power are forefront in this study of the living and working conditions of this transient population. Based on over ten years of qualitative research dominated by in-depth interviews with migrant sugarcane workers, this project argues that the ills of the sugarcane industry are symptomatic of an overarching problem of unequal access to opportunities by all Brazilian citizens. The project is unique in its use of a single industry as an expression of the multifarious problem of inequality. The book explores details of the migration and labor processes with a central premise that the conditions are not a direct outcome of the industry, but rather a manifestation of fundamental inequalities rooted in Brazil’s colonial history. According to the migration theory of the new international division of labor, job access is not only based on the skills of workers. Rather, some employment opportunities attract particular ethnic or national groups and socioeconomic classes. Most often, jobs that are menial, strenuous, and low paying are reserved for those not necessarily with the fewest skills, but with the most limited resources. In the United States, Canada, and parts of Europe, these jobs are often filled by immigrants, especially those who have recently migrated. The positions vary from domestic work to agriculture and meatpacking, among other sectors. With its rapidly growing economy, Brazil has labor demands for different sectors and skill levels, including low-skilled, low-wage workers. Brazil is a world leader in ethanol production and has engaged in the widespread use and export of ethanol since the mid-1970s, after the 1973 oil crisis prompted a shift toward alternatives to fossil fuels, and biofuels were deemed to be viable energy

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sources. Unstable fuel prices, coupled with the acknowledgment of the limitations of fossil fuel availability, have produced a demand for biofuels, including sugarcane-based ethanol. In Brazil, the incentives to produce more sugarcane have increased labor demands on sugarcane plantations and in sugar mills located in the central and southeastern states, predominantly in the state of São Paulo. To meet the labor demands, migrants temporarily relocate to these areas. However, in this case the migrants are not foreigners, but Brazilians from the poorest parts of the country. In some cases, the migration is long term or permanent, with workers living in shantytowns, tenements, land reform settlements, and other marginalized communities. The majority of manual sugarcane harvesters are temporary labor migrants who travel seasonally from northern and northeastern states such as Maranhão, Bahia, Alagoas, and Pará. Although these workers are Brazilians traveling and working in their home country, they face many of the challenges that international labor migrants encounter, including discrimination, poor wages, and inhumane working conditions. This study examines the migration and living and working conditions of seasonal sugarcane workers in Brazil, using case studies of migrant workers from the state of Maranhão who seasonally work on plantations in Guariba in the state of São Paulo. A secondary assertion of this study is that this case of domestic migration warrants the same level of theoretical consideration that international migration inspires, particularly because of Brazil’s size and its geographic, socioeconomic, and racial diversity. Although there is a substantial body of literature on domestic migration from rural to urban settings, there is a dearth of scholarship on internal migrations that do not follow the rural-­ urban pattern. In the case of Brazil, seasonal sugarcane workers are moving to rural areas for agricultural employment. Brazil’s size and diversity contribute to the complexity of these processes. From an interdisciplinary perspective that draws primarily from political, sociological, and geographic foci, this book exposes the challenges of these atypical migration patterns within the context of global demands for biofuels and the consequent pressures for sugarcane production. The sociological theory of internal colonialism is used as an explanatory tool to illustrate the internal divisions and dependence within Brazil that produce the need for large numbers of workers to relocate seasonally, which disrupts educational opportunities for their children and perpetuates the cycle of poverty. Internal colonialism also underscores the unequal distribution of resources that is rampant at the state and regional levels in Brazil. Internal colonialism

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has been used predominantly in the US context; its application in this context of internal migration in Brazil is as atypical as the migration pattern. This project explores the concept of citizenship and its meaning for marginalized peoples, who do not necessarily experience the rights and benefits that the term suggests. Here, I explore social and political exclusion among the economically marginalized in Brazil. These forms of exclusion that many seasonal migrant workers experience correspond with their spatial exclusion, as their living arrangements are generally found within the confines of the sugarcane plantations or on the margins of the towns in which they temporarily reside. Highlighting the severe working conditions, low wages, and substandard living conditions among Brazil’s migrant sugarcane workers, I challenge the notion that Brazilians share similar rights as citizens, endorsing existing literature that underscores the limitations on citizenship rights among indigenous, black, and poor Brazilians. That the living and working conditions continue to result in illness, injury, and death without adequate government intervention raises questions regarding the protective role of citizenship and governance in the lives of these workers. As the Brazilian sugarcane industry increasingly shifts away from the manual harvesting of sugarcane and toward mechanization, the book ultimately argues that despite fears of unemployment among sugarcane workers, this shift could represent an opportunity for upward mobility for these workers, whether they move toward other areas of the agricultural industry or work in higher-skilled areas of sugarcane cultivation and processing such as the operation of machinery.

Methodology The data for this study were collected from August 2007 to January 2018, with interviews conducted by the author between March and May 2013. This primary research method used in this study consisted of in-depth, semi-structured interviews with 45 migrant sugarcane workers in Guariba, São Paulo. The workers were all interviewed in their places of temporary residence, which were tenements on the outskirts of Guariba. Some of the interviews were arranged through Pastoral do Migrante, an organization that supports the migrant population through advocacy, educational programs, health care, and donations of necessities such as warm clothing and blankets. Pastoral do Migrante operates in multiple cities and has an office in Guariba; it is the primary source of assistance to migrant workers in

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Guariba. I was connected to other interview respondents through the referrals of their friends or relatives who were also participants. The study also employed participant observation in both Guariba and Campos dos Goytacazes, where I visited the dwellings of migrant sugarcane workers in their rented homes, at land reform settlements, at a dormitory-­style accommodation housed on a plantation (in Campos dos Goytacazes), and at one plantation (in Guariba) where I had the opportunity to observe them at work. While workers welcomed the opportunity to share the details of their plight as migrant sugarcane harvesters and spoke openly with me, gaining access to the plantations was a greater challenge. In Guariba, I managed to gain access to one usina; but in Campos dos Goytacazes, my entry was more clandestine and although it was several hours before I was detected by security personnel, I was then promptly escorted off the premises. Although I had a base and institutional affiliation in Campos, I chose Guariba as the main site for the study because of its historical and contemporary importance to the sugarcane industry. The uniformity of the labor force was also remarkable, with migrant workers from the state of Maranhão comprising entire communities. Guariba is a rural town located in the state of São Paulo, about 210 miles northwest of the city of São Paulo. According to the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE), Guariba’s population was 35,486 as of the 2010 census, and the 2019 estimate is 40,105. It is unclear whether these figures represent only the population of permanent residents or if it includes seasonal migrants; however, the gender distribution suggests that the population count only includes permanent residents, as there is a fairly even distribution of 17,912 men and 17,574 women according to the 2010 census. Migrant sugarcane workers are predominantly men. Guariba and the surrounding area rely overwhelmingly on agricultural production, primarily sugarcane. The region is also dependent on the cultivation and processing of oranges (for orange juice) and peanuts. All the interview participants were from the state of Maranhão, in the northeast of the country, and were either currently working or had previously worked as manual sugarcane harvesters. Most were from Timbiras, a municipality in Maranhão of a 2010 population of 27,997 and a 2019 estimated population of 29,124 (IBGE). Table  1.1 compares economic and social indicators for Timbiras and Guariba. Thirty-seven of the participants were men and eight were women, and they ranged in age from 19 to 54. Although the highest level of education achieved was secondary school, the majority (41) had only completed

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Table 1.1  Economic and social indicators comparing Timbiras and Guariba Indicator

Timbiras

Guariba

Population Population density/sq. km Human development index Median monthly salary in formal sector (# of minimum wages per household) Percentage of children in school (6–14 years of age) Gross National Income (GNI) per capita (reais) Infant mortality rate (per 1000)

29,124 18.83 0.537 1.7

40,105 131.29 0.719 2.7

92.4% 4848.73 16.92

97.3% 30,226.80 9.96

Source: IBGE (https://cidades.ibge.gov.br/brasil/ma/timbiras/panorama; https://cidades.ibge.gov. br/brasil/sp/guariba/panorama)

eighth grade. Since Brazilian law mandates that all children between the ages of 6 and 14 attend school, eighth grade would be the approximate level that they would be required to complete. This level of education is known as Ensino Fundamental or Elementary School. The informal nature of manual sugarcane harvesting presents some challenges in determining the number of workers who make the annual journey. A representative from Pastoral do Migrante, who works closely with the seasonal migrant population, estimated in 2013 that about 3000 seasonal migrant workers would travel from the northeast to Guariba annually, whereas in the 1990s, about 7000 workers made the journey. Mechanization was said to be the reason for the decline. She also estimates that during the harvest season, migrant workers comprise 80 percent of Guariba’s population. Most migrant workers return to their homes in the northeast at the end of the harvest season because employment opportunities in Guariba are scarce during the off-season. The few northeasterners who remain in Guariba year-round find jobs by the day clearing sugarcane fields, picking oranges, or harvesting peanuts, but the precarious nature of this work makes it unattractive and futile to most. The same representative also explained that although she supports the workers, she would welcome mechanization because of the inhumane nature of the work. She made the case that lack of education is the primary problem that prevents the workers from advancing to less arduous occupations. This is exacerbated when children travel with the parents when they migrate seasonally to the south as well as when they are left behind in the northeast. When they travel with parents, the transient nature of their upbringing prevents them from

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­ aving stable access to education, and they often leave school at a young h age. When they are left behind in the care of extended family, the loss of a stable family structure also inhibits their educational advancement. Echoing the estimates of several scholars (e.g., Kaup 2015; Welch 2006), she estimated that each machine represents between 80 and 100 lost jobs. Even so, in reference to the seasonal migration from the northeast to the south, she argued that “it’s not voluntary. The poor in the Northeast are forced to leave. They are constantly thinking of their return.”1

Migrant Labor in Brazil In 1969, Fischlowitz and Engel argued that there were two main reasons for domestic migration in Brazil. The first is the unequal distribution of land, which remains concentrated in the hands of relatively few individuals and families by means of the perpetuation of the latifundia system of large-scale agriculture. Their second reason represents the characteristics of migrant-sending regions, which they describe as having “alarmingly low income, underemployment, undernourishment, ill-health and illiteracy” (Fischlowitz and Engel 1969: 41–42). Migration flows, they argue, reduce population pressures in the less developed areas and encourage economic expansion in more developed areas. Although much has changed in Brazil since 1969, it remains among the world’s most unequal countries, and some of the poor conditions that Fischlowitz and Engel describe remain evident today. The latifundia system of large-scale plantation agriculture remains a reality in Brazil, although land reform movements have gained much support (Wolford 2004). Migration flows in Brazil continue to be driven by inequality, in particular regional inequality. There is a long history of labor migration from north to south, beginning with the involuntary movement of enslaved people in northeastern Brazil who were sold at higher prices to the wealthier coffee planters in southern Brazil (Galloway 1971). Galloway describes the northeast as “a significant reservoir of manpower for the south: given a rate of traffic of an average of 3,000 slaves a year between 1850 and 1880, then the Northeast provided 90,000 slaves for the South” (Galloway 1971: 590). In the twenty-first century, the northeast remains a source of labor for the plantations and agricultural fields of the south. Brazil’s urban population grew from 36 percent to 81 percent of the total population during the second  Interview with the author, May 3, 2013.

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half of the twentieth century (Amaral 2013: 1), largely owing to people pursuing livelihoods in urban areas, as agricultural production in rural areas became increasingly mechanized, thereby requiring less human labor. It is difficult to measure interstate migration flows in Brazil due to the transient tendencies of migrants, which are even more pronounced among seasonal migrants. The 2010 census indicates a 5-year interstate migration of about 4.6 million people, and between 2005 and 2010, the most numerically dominant migrant flow was to the state of São Paulo, primarily from northeastern states (Baptista et al. 2018: 361). Also significant are migration flows from São Paulo to the northeast, which Baptista et al. argue is the result of return migration (Baptista et al. 2017). Factoring in migration from and to states of origin, São Paulo alone accounts for 39.6 percent of all interstate migration stocks, with the main states of origin being in the northeast (Baptista et  al. 2018: 362). While the overwhelming majority of Brazil’s migration flows are from rural to urban areas, migrant sugarcane workers represent an anomalous population in that they migrate seasonally to rural areas, where they focus their livelihood efforts in agricultural labor.

Land Distribution and Latifundia The latifundia system was introduced to Brazil by Portuguese colonizers in the sixteenth century, allowing a relatively small group of the moneyed population to gain ownership of the majority of private land. Through various programs intended to attract wealthy Europeans, the colonial Brazilian leadership granted land in a way that both Dean (1971) and Wegenast (2010) refer to as unsystematic and corrupt (Dean 1971: 607; Wegenast 2010: 115). For example, by the seventeenth century, large plots of land were granted to anyone who was able to pay the administrative costs, which at the time amounted to 300–400 milreis or US$375–500 (Wegenast 2010: 115). Motivated by their desire to profit from the production and export of sugar, the Portuguese generously incentivized land rights to colonists through the distribution of these plots of land or sesmarias. However, due to the partiality in distributing the sesmarias demonstrated by the Portuguese King João VI and his son Pedro, the first Emperor, the Council of Appeals at Rio de Janeiro terminated the sesmaria system in 1822 (Dean 1971: 608). Still, the need remained for a viable system of land distribution, as a sizeable amount of land was still held in public domain. Besides the formal sesmarias, there were parcels of

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land that had been initially distributed but were returned to public domain because the owners failed to fulfill the conditions. There were also posses, or occupied parcels of land that had not yet been formally granted, and were therefore essentially claimed by latifundist squatters (Dean 1971: 609). Throughout this period of formal and informal land distribution, the emphasis remained on single ownership of expansive plots of land, deeply entrenching the latifundia system of large-scale ownership in Brazil’s planation economy. In 1842, a proposal was developed in the Council of State that determined that land would be transferred by sale, with prices being set well above market value. The proposal was based on E.G.  Wakefield’s 1829 book, Letters from Sydney, and was intended to restrict land ownership while simultaneously increasing the labor pool, comprising immigrants, who would be unable to afford the inflated land prices and would consequently be obliged to sell their labor. As Dean observed, the purpose of the proposed policy was to uphold the latifundia system of land ownership and the unequal social structure that it inevitably created (Dean 1971: 613–614). This system of institutionalized inequality was self-perpetuating, as the elites who controlled the decision-­ making did so in ways that upheld their self-interests. Brazil’s history of land distribution has had an enduring impact on the country’s economy and has given rise to its hierarchical social structure. As recently as the late 1960s, half of Brazil’s land has remained under the ownership of large plantation owners (Wegenast 2010: 115), and as of the beginning of the twenty-first century, 1 percent of the population owned 47 percent of the land (Welch 2006: 49). Land ownership remains concentrated in the control of a minority of large landholders, while the majority of agricultural workers do not only sell their labor, but in some cases are also forced to travel hundreds of miles across the country in order to do so.

Landless Movement In the decades following the emancipation of slaves and Brazil’s independence from Portugal, inequity in land ownership persisted, and even increased in the mid-twentieth century. Agrarian reform finally became a priority for the government after the establishment of military rule in 1964, in an effort to reduce the unrest that was developing in the northeast and south as a result of the landlessness (Valente and Berry 2015: 266). Despite efforts toward agrarian reform through the 1980s by means of endeavors such as the National Institute of Colonization and Agrarian

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Reform or Instituto Nacional de Colonização e Reforma Agrária (INCRA), the National Agrarian Reform Plan or Plano Nacional de Reforma Agrária (PNRA), and the Extraordinary Ministry for Development and Agrarian Reform or Ministério da Reforma Agrária e do Desenvolvimento (MIRAD), the military dictatorship failed to make meaningful progress toward agrarian reform. Land ownership and control remained concentrated among a minimal number of landowners, while rural landlessness resulted in greater poverty, an increased income gap, and migration from the countryside to the urban shantytowns (favelas). Brazil entered the twenty-first century with land ownership still heavily concentrated among an elite minority. Three percent of the population currently owns almost two-thirds of the arable land, and large farms of 2000 acres or more account for only 1.6 percent of all farmland, but occupy 53.2 percent of arable land (Mark 2001: 10). Landless rural families have limited options and as a consequence largely serve as a cheap source of labor for these plantations or migrate to favelas in crowded urban areas. Even more vexing, as Mark underscores, is that at least 1.2 billion acres or 40 percent of farmland is either unused for agriculture or is used only for cattle grazing (Mark 2001: 10). A combination of factors, among them rural poverty, enduring inequality, and the freedom that accompanied the demise of the military dictatorship, gave rise to a number of movements, many of which focused on land reform. The most widely known among them, which Wendy Wolford (2016: 81) describes as “the most visible and best-organized rural social movement of contemporary times,” is the Landless Workers Movement or Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra (MST), which was founded in Cascaval in the state of Paraná in southern Brazil in January 1984 following several years of planning (Fernandes 2009: 91). The MST was established in response to the gross inequities in land distribution, and at its inception, two goals were identified: “MST would fight for an agrarian reform that distributed land to those who would work it, and for the development of a just, fraternal society” (Wolford 2003b: 500). The MST has led more than 2500 land occupations and close to 20 million acres has been awarded to over 400,000 families.2 However, its mandate spans a range of other social problems, and it has grown to encompass resistance against other forms of oppression, such as unemployment and 2  https://www.britannica.com/event/Landless-Workers-Movement and https://socialistproject.ca/2017/09/b1482/

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discrimination against the minority black and indigenous populations. Decidedly anticolonial and rooted in Marxist ideology, the MST has evolved to be in opposition to neoliberal globalization, which is seen as a core cause of rural marginalization and landlessness (Hoddy and Ensor 2018: 79). As Fernandes notes, “To struggle for agrarian reform means to struggle over all the dimensions of territory – among them technology, the market, education, health – but above all against capital, which seeks to control it” (Fernandes 2009: 92). There is general consensus among scholars that there are three main factors that are responsible for the MST’s dominance: agricultural restructuring, the 1985 transition to democracy, and the institutional support that progressive religious organizations provided (Wolford 2003a). First, the modernization of agriculture, which precipitated migration from rural to urban areas, also deepened inequities in land distribution and had the unintended consequence of emboldening resistance from the population. Second, religious organizations, including the Catholic Church, facilitated the establishment of social movements such as the MST by fostering the social networks through which they develop. Third, the transition to democracy was a period that was particularly prolific for social movements (Wolford 2003a). All these factors combined to cultivate the MST’s rise. Since its inception, the MST has grown to an estimated membership of about 1.5 million and has been remarkable in retaining members even after they have obtained land. Landed members would presumably lose their incentive to maintain membership, yet they have continued to provide both numerical and emotional support to the organization and to their fellow members through their persistent participation in demonstrations and land occupations (Wolford 2003b). Wolford surmises that the sustainability of the MST’s membership has been encouraged and made feasible through the development of what Anderson (1991) refers to as an “imagined community,” based on shared ideology and opposition to the oppression that often accompanies extensive and deep-seated inequality. Through its sizable membership, the MST has been able to cultivate recognition and political power unrivaled by other Latin American social movements. There is considerable overlap between the priorities of the MST and those of migrant sugarcane workers, as the MST operates in the interests of rural agricultural workers who are typically exploited and would likely be better off owning land that they can cultivate for themselves. Many of the settlers who are MST members seek temporary employment as

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s­ugarcane cutters in order to sustain themselves and their families while they wait for land to be granted. However, the connection between sugarcane workers and the MST has not been as organic as may be expected. As Wolford (2004: 147) notes, “The rural workers conceived of full employment and paternalistic protection on the plantation rather than ownership of a small plot of land as the ideal.” Although the MST was eventually able to garner support among the sugarcane workers owing to an economic crisis in the sugarcane industry, the connection between the workers and the organization was not organic. Wolford further argues that “Most of the rural workers in the sugarcane region privileged access to a salary over access to land, and there was little in their occupational history that legitimated the notion of occupying ‘someone else’s property’” (Wolford 2004: 155). Wolford attributes some of the MST’s challenges in recruiting sugarcane workers as members to “the social construction of space” (Wolford 2003a: 207). She argues that because plantation owners generally sought to separate workers from both the land and each other, the workers were incapable of seeing themselves as landowners and viewed the land occupation tactics of the MST as morally wrong in both biblical and legal senses (Wolford 2003a: 207). Further, their employment on the plantations created a sense of dependency and a fear of the responsibility that accompanies land ownership. Paid employment with a relatively predictable salary was perceived as the more desirable option. The hierarchical structure of the plantation labor system also deprived workers of the sense of camaraderie and community that social movements such as the MST require. The workers’ mobility also had a similar effect of impeding the development of a sense of community (Wolford 2010: 142). Despite the obstacles that the MST initially faced as it attempted to engage sugarcane workers in its land reform efforts, the organization was eventually able to appeal to the workers when the Northeast’s sugarcane industry was faced with a severe economic crisis and former sugarcane workers finally acknowledged the legitimacy of land redistribution (Wolford 2003a: 209–11). The MST and the sugarcane workers maintain a relationship that is more firmly grounded in necessity than in ideological conviction.

Globalization and Inequality The circumstances that have produced Brazil’s stark inequality did not develop in a vacuum. Colonialism and enslaved labor are directly responsible for engendering an elite population that is motivated to keep a large

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underclass of workers poor and landless, and therefore available as a source of cheap labor for the elite minority. Following independence and emancipation, a number of global events and ongoing phenomena have served to perpetuate Brazil’s social structure, particularly as it relates to agricultural labor. Welch (2006) identifies globalization as one such phenomenon and suggests that the Green Revolution was among the vehicles used to spread neoliberal globalization. As a movement that developed to drastically increase food production, the Green Revolution encouraged the use of genetically modified, highly productive seeds; the application of chemical pesticides and fertilizers; and increased mechanization, resulting in a shift away from labor-intensive agriculture and consequently resulting in higher rates of rural unemployment. This observation compelled Welch to argue that it was globalization that proved to be the greatest contributing factor to rural poverty. During the postwar period, the surge in population and the accompanying increase in consumption necessitated a transformation in agricultural production, including strategies such as the Green Revolution. This approach to increased food production, Welch argues, was accompanied by a neoliberal agenda that upheld US dominance and favored monocrop, capital-intensive agricultural practices and export-oriented food production (Welch 2006: 36). As a dominant approach to the latter half of the twentieth century, globalization and the accompanying efforts toward trade liberalization, open markets, privatization, and fiscal austerity dominated the global political economy and shaped the contemporary socioeconomic structure of Brazil, directly affecting the lives of its rural workers and effectively denying them access to the agricultural economy in any way other than as wage laborers. The oil crisis of the 1970s represents another way in which global factors have influenced agricultural production and labor in Brazil. The use of a blend of ethanol and gasoline as fuel has been common in Brazil since the 1930s. However, in the 1970s, the oil crisis coincided with low sugar prices and fostered the more expansive use of ethanol as an alternative to oil as a source of energy (Soccol et al. 2005: 897). The National Ethanol Program or Programa Nacional de Alcool (Proálcool) was established in 1975 as an agency whose purpose was to foster the production and widespread use of ethanol as a source of fuel. While Welch (2006) suggests that the oil crisis provided some benefits for cane workers in that it prompted the increased production of sugarcane and consequently boosted labor demands, the growth in the cultivation of sugarcane under Proálcool also exacerbated land concentration by further expanding the size of average

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sugarcane plantations and because, under the Proálcool program, the number of smaller, independent properties, or fornecedors, declined (Nunberg 1986: 80).

Sugarcane Production in Brazil Brazil’s northeast has historically been the primary area of sugarcane production. However, drought and desertification, exacerbated by deforestation and centuries of poor agricultural practices, have resulted in diminished soil fertility in this region (Costa et al. 2016: 429; Cavalcanti and Coutinho 2005: 896). Further, the hilly topography of the northeast hindered the use of types of machinery that became more widely used in the twentieth century to facilitate production (Nunberg 1986: 55). Owing to a suitable landscape and hefty investment in sugarcane production in the region, the center-south—São Paulo in particular—has long surpassed the northeast as the primary sugarcane growing region. Although the terrain, soil quality, and rainfall of the center-south are better suited for sugarcane production, the shift to this region was not entirely due to its geographic superiority, but was accompanied by investment and development in the center-south. The industrialization of the region’s agricultural production facilitated its greater productivity. Because of the center-south’s comparative advantage in agriculture, the region’s sugarcane productivity exceeded that of the northeast by the mid-twentieth century. Despite some discrepancy with regard to when exactly the center-south surpassed the northeast as Brazil’s dominant area of sugarcane production, there is consensus that the transition took place in the early- to mid-twentieth century (García 2012; Ramos 2001; Szmrecsányi 1979) and has sustained into the twenty-­ first century, with no indication that a reversal is likely. Because of the latter region’s historical dependence on sugarcane production and its ongoing reliance on the industry as a source of employment, the Brazilian government, through a set of sugar policies, continued to invest in sugarcane production in the northeast. Brazil’s initial sugar policies were launched in 1931 in response to the loss that producers faced as a result of diminished sugar prices during the Great Depression (Johnson 1983: 243). By 1933, the Sugar and Alcohol Institute or Instituto do Açucar e do Alcool (IAA) was established to regulate the sugar industry and to maintain stability in the domestic market. Through its policies, the IAA also sought to sustain productivity in the northeast, but Johnson (1983) speculates that the system of quotas and the rigidity of the differential

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prices set by the IAA may have inadvertently stifled competition, leading to stunted productivity in the northeast. Furthermore, Nunberg (1986) argues that politically motivated patron-clientelism between the IAA and noncompetitive producers in the northeast upheld inefficient producers. In the twenty-first century, only about 20 percent of Brazil’s sugarcane is produced in the northeast, while the center-south, which benefits from an abundance of capital investment, dominates in the production of sugarcane for both raw sugar and ethanol. Table 1.2 shows the proportion and concentration of sugarcane production in the two dominant regions. The Northeast’s historical dependence on agricultural production, coupled with the vast discrepancy in income and capital investment between the northeast and the south, has amplified the effects of its geographic limitations, contributing to high rates of unemployment. Labor migration from the northeast to the south is a consequence of these circumstances. As is typical among labor migrants, Brazilians move from areas where there are fewer employment opportunities to areas where the prospects for employment are greater. Migrant sugarcane workers travel from their homes in the poorer northeastern region to the southeastern and central regions, where about 80 percent of Brazil’s sugarcane is produced.

Overview The following chapter examines theoretical explanations for Brazil’s characteristic inequality. Dominant approaches to the study of human migration are examined, and domestic migration is placed within these paradigms in order to illustrate the parallels between the patterns and processes of domestic and international labor migrations. While the widely known and applied models of international migration are applicable to the majority of Table 1.2  Regional sugarcane production

Sugarcane production Raw sugar production Ethanol production Sugar for export Source: Bolling and Suarez (2001)

Center-south

Northeast

75–80% 60–65% 80–85% 25–30%

20–25% 35–40% 15–20% 70–75%

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migrations, a theoretical approach that considers the disparities that exist within countries and the consequent flows of labor in such contexts is lacking. While focusing on internal colonialism, the chapter also proposes a broader interpretation of migration theories that accounts for the movement and experiences of internal migrants. Chapter 3 explores the different perspectives of the main actors in the sugarcane labor market: the workers, the plantation owners, and the recruiters, who play a key, intermediary role. The chapter highlights the labor dimension of the sugarcane industry and examines the relationship among the workers, recruiters, and owners, vis-à-vis the hierarchical structure that was established during Brazil’s colonial period. The chapter also discusses housing accommodations and living conditions, situating them within two contexts: migrants who live independently and those who live on the property of the usinas or sugar mills. Each type of living arrangement presents its own set of challenges. Seasonal workers who live on the usinas are housed in crowded, dormitory-style buildings, where the primary complaints are the low quality and quantity of food and drinking water and the lack of space. Those who are able and/or permitted to find their own housing typically live in tenements that they share with other seasonal workers. Although the conditions in these dwellings are almost as deplorable, migrants generally express preference for the latter type of housing because of the freedom that it offers. The chapter addresses other aspects of their lives as migrants, including their nutrition—or lack thereof—and the range of health problems that they endure as a result of their working and living conditions. Sugarcane cutters face health problems such as respiratory illnesses and chronic renal failure. The chapter focuses on the migrants as active agents in their own lives who develop resourceful ways in which to maximize their living space and on the familial dynamics that emerge out of necessity. Chapter 4 interrogates the ways in which we conceptualize nationhood and citizenship—both theoretically and in practice. Despite the shared nationality and citizenship among Brazilians, there are differences between migrant workers and the residents of the host communities that create tensions between the two groups. Seasonal migrants generally live in isolated communities and are not integrated into the towns in which they temporarily reside, a factor that contributes to their marginalization. There is sometimes resentment on the part of the local communities against the influx of migrants who arrive during the harvest season. This resentment borders on xenophobia, yet it seems odd that xenophobia would be a

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concern within a context of shared nationality. The sentiments of local residents parallel those of some native-born Americans or Europeans, from whose perspectives immigrants are seen as an economic and social threat. Although the abundance of physically demanding work prior to the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting suggests that there is no real competition for cane-cutting jobs in Brazil’s southern states, there is still the perception of migrants as a threat to the local economy and culture. Migrant workers face discrimination and criminalization, and while discrimination against fellow citizens is not unique to Brazil, the complexities of the tensions between seasonal migrants and permanent residents transcend explanations that are based solely on race or socioeconomic class. The chapter highlights the intersection of multiple factors that contribute to these divisions among citizens. Central to this argument is a discussion of the political structure and distribution of power in Brazil. Inequality in Brazil is connected to geographic region and political power, and is related to such complex factors as race, ethnicity, color, kinship, class, and social capital, which are deeply rooted in Brazil’s colonial history. Together, these factors have produced an acutely hierarchical society. While the chapter addresses the historical context, the discussion emphasizes the mechanisms that sustain this social and political structure. Chapter 5 concludes the book by considering the implications of the transition to the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting. Some supporters of sugarcane workers lament the employment repercussions of the shift toward mechanization, which will likely eventually eliminate much of the need for manual labor. I argue that given the human, social, and environmental challenges, the current model of sugarcane labor is unsustainable. The final chapter reexamines the social structures that were created during the early, colonial period of sugarcane production, concluding that because the problems addressed throughout the book are symptoms of ubiquitous inequality, eliminating manual sugarcane harvesting will not eliminate the problems; they will resurface in other industries. Still, as manual ­harvesting is superseded by mechanized harvesting, the loss of employment should impose pressure on the state and federal governments to create opportunities that will lessen the impetus to work under conditions that result in a higher-than-average mortality rate. The chapter emphasizes the agency of the workers and interrogates the extent to which they are able to exercise their political rights. The chapter also addresses the responsibility of the Brazilian government to all its citizens in light of Brazil’s influential position in the global economy and presents an overview of social policies that

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have achieved some measure of success. I ultimately conclude that evidence of successful social programs is indicative of the Brazilian government’s potential and onus to develop policies to aid former sugarcane workers in their transition to other occupations. It is a matter of will.

References Amaral, Ernesto Friedrich de Lima. 2013. Brazil: Internal Migration. In The Encyclopedia of Global Human Migration, ed. Immanuel Ness. Hoboken: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Anderson, Benedict. 1991. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso. Baptista, Emerson Augusto, Járvis Campos, and José Irineu Rangel Rigotti. 2017. Return Migration in Brazil. Mercator (Fortaleza) 16: 1–18. Baptista, Emerson Augusto, Guy J.  Abel, and Járvis Campos. 2018. Internal Migration in Brazil Using Circular Visualization. Regional Studies, Regional Science 5 (1): 361–364. Bolling, Christine, and Nydia R. Suarez. 2001. The Brazilian Sugar Industry: Recent Developments. Sugar and Sweetener Situation and Outlook. Cavalcanti, Edneida Rabêlo, and Solange Fernandes Soares Coutinho. 2005. Desertification in the Northeast of Brazil: The Natural Resources Use and the Land Degradation. Revista Sociedade & Natureza Especial (1): 891–900. Costa, Amanda Rodrigues Santos, Gleide de Lima Ferreira, Elizabete Buonora de Souza, and Fernando Cartaxo Rolim Neto. 2016. Desertification in Semi-Arid Northeast of Brazil | Desertificação No Nordeste Semi-Árido Do Brasil. Revista Geama 2 (4): 427–445. Dean, Warren. 1971. Latifundia and Land Policy in Nineteenth-Century Brazil. The Hispanic American Historical Review 51 (4): 606–625. Felter, Claire. 2019. “U.S.  Temporary Foreign Worker Programs,” Council on Foreign Relations. https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/us-temporary-foreignworker-programs. Accessed 12 Aug 2019. Fernandes, Bernardo Mançano. 2009. The MST and Agrarian Reform in Brazil. Socialism and Democracy 23 (3): 90–99. Fischlowitz, Estanislau, and Madeline H.  Engel. 1969. Internal Migration in Brazil. International Migration Review 3 (3): 36–46. Galloway, J.H. 1971. The Last Years of Slavery on the Sugar Plantations of Northeastern Brazil. The Hispanic American Historical Review 51 (4): 586–605. García, Francisco Lara. 2012. Regional Shifts in Brazilian Sugarcane Production: Why Sugarcane Migrated South. Unpublished thesis, University of Arizona. Hoddy, Eric T., and Jonathan E. Ensor. 2018. Brazil’s Landless Movement and Rights ‘from Below.’. Journal of Rural Studies 63 (October): 74–82.

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Johnson, Frederick I. 1983. Sugar in Brazil: Policy and Production. The Journal of Developing Areas 17 (2): 243–256. Kaup, Felix. 2015. The Sugarcane Complex in Brazil: The Role of Innovation in a Dynamic Sector on Its Path Towards Sustainability. London: Springer. Mark, Jason. 2001. Brazil’s MST: Taking Back the Land. Multinational Monitor 22 (1/2): 10–12. Nunberg, Barbara. 1986. Structural Change and State Policy: The Politics of Sugar in Brazil Since 1964. Latin American Research Review 21 (2): 53–92. Ramos, Pedro. 2001. A Evolução da Agroindústria Canavieira Paulista no Período 1946–1980: Expansionismo agrário e características da estrutura de produção. Informações Econômicas, SP 31 (8): 14–32. Soccol, Carlos R., Luciana P.S.  Vandenberghe, Bill Costa, Adenise Lorenci Woiciechowski, Julio César de Carvalho, Adriane B.P.  Medeiros, Antonio Maria Francisco, and Luiz José Bonomi. 2005. Brazilian Biofuel Program: An Overview. Journal of Scientific & Industrial Research 64 (November): 897–904. Szmrecsányi, Tamás. 1979. O planejamento da agroindústria canavieira do Brasil (1930–1975), Economia & planejamento Série Teses e pesquisas. São Paulo: Editora Hucitec; Universidade Estadual de Campinas. Valente, Rubia R., and Brian J.L.  Berry. 2015. Countering Inequality: Brazil’s Movimento Sem-Terra. Geographical Review 10 (3): 263–282. Wegenast, Tim. 2010. Cana, Café, Cacau: Agrarian Structure and Educational Inequalities in Brazil. Journal of Iberian and Latin American History 28 (1): 103–137. Welch, Cliff. 2006. Globalization and the Transformation of Work in Rural Brazil: Agribusiness, Rural Labor Unions, and Peasant Mobilization. International Labor and Working-Class History 70 (Fall): 35–60. Globalization and the Latin-American Workplace. Wolford, Wendy. 2003a. Families, Fields, And Fighting for Land: The Spatial Dynamics of Contention in Rural Brazil. Mobilization: An International Quarterly 8 (2): 201–215. ———. 2003b. Producing Community: The MST and Land Reform Settlements in Brazil. Journal of Agrarian Change 3 (4): 500–520. ———. 2004. Of Land and Labor: Agrarian Reform on the Sugarcane Plantations of Northeast Brazil. Latin American Perspectives 31 (2): 147–170. ———. 2010. This Land Is Ours Now: Social Mobilization and the Meanings of Land in Brazil. Durham: Duke University. ———. 2016. State-Society Dynamics in Contemporary Brazilian Land Reform. Latin American Perspectives 43 (2): 77–95. Issue 207.

CHAPTER 2

Migration and Internal Colonialism

Abstract  This chapter examines dominant approaches to the study of migration and places domestic migration within these paradigms in order to illustrate the parallels between the patterns and processes of domestic and international labor migrations. While the widely known and applied models of international migration are applicable to the majority of migrations, a theoretical approach that considers the disparities that exist within countries and the consequent flows of labor in such contexts is lacking. While focusing on internal colonialism, the chapter also proposes a broader interpretation of migration theories that accounts for the movement and experiences of internal migrants. Keywords  Migration theory • Internal colonialism • Internal migration • Domestic migration As an enduring strategy for human survival, migration has prevailed as a prominent topic in several academic disciplines. International migrants comprise an estimated 3.4 percent of the world’s population, while the figures may be even higher among domestic migrants and internally displaced persons. As scholarship on migration continues to develop, an abundance of theoretical approaches has arisen to explain, discuss, or otherwise dissect the process of migration in order to facilitate the analysis of the varied practices and experiences that migration entails. For example, © The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2_2

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the new household economics of migration, the dual labor market theory, and world-systems analysis all take different approaches to understanding the reasons why people move across borders. Among the myriad models, several approaches have emerged as accepted, dominant theories of migration. Some of them explain the reasons for the initiation of the migration process, while others explain how and why the process continues once it has begun. It has also become accepted among scholars of migration that these theories are not mutually exclusive, nor do they operate independently of each other, but are in many cases complementary. However, these dominant models tend to emphasize international migration. Within the field of migration studies, international migration research is certainly prevalent, yet there is also considerable literature on internal migration from rural to urban areas, particularly within the contexts of large countries such as China, India, and Brazil. Rural-to-urban migration dominates discussions of domestic migration, further marginalizing migrants such as Brazil’s seasonal agricultural workers, who have very different experiences in their movement from poor urban or rural settings to rural, agricultural spaces. A theoretical approach to migrant flows to rural areas is largely absent. This is perhaps the case because these patterns occur on a much smaller scale than other types of migration. However, as is evident in this research, there are sizable populations of labor migrants who travel to rural areas and face a unique set of challenges, necessitating further study and an improved understanding of the process and projections for its continuation. As cities face population pressures, it is possible that there will be sustained patterns of migration to rural areas, or in some cases suburbanization. I propose an alternative way of perceiving internal migration, one that considers the larger context that compels people to leave their home regions in search of livelihood strategies. While the widely known and applied models of international migration are relevant to the majority of migrations, a theoretical approach that considers the disparities that exist within countries, and the consequent flows of labor in such contexts is lacking. This chapter proposes a broader interpretation of migration theories that accounts for the movement and experiences of internal migrants other than those who move to cities. While internal colonialism has not traditionally been used as a framework of analysis for migration, I contend that it best explains the economic disparity that leads to the flows of seasonal migrants from Brazil’s northeast to the well-resourced state of São Paulo.

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Theories of International Migration For the last several decades, beginning perhaps with Everett Lee’s (1966) pioneering “push-pull” theory of migration, scholars have attempted to explain the causes and trends of international migration through a range of theoretical perspectives. Lee’s central argument is that migration involves an origin, a destination, and a set of intervening obstacles. Factors related to the origin and destination serve as “push” and “pull” mechanisms respectively, and determine the decision to migrate. Acknowledging the disconnect between scholarship on international and domestic migration, Lee states that “considerations of internal migration have been divorced from considerations of immigration and emigration” (Lee 1966: 49). Lee supports a more inclusive treatment of migration, which he defines as “a permanent or semi-permanent change of residence. No restriction is placed upon the distance of the move or upon the voluntary or involuntary nature of the act, and no distinction is made between external and internal migration.” However, he still excludes seasonal labor migrants from his consideration of migration, as he states that “not all kinds of spatial mobility are included in this definition. Excluded, for example, are the continual movements of nomads and migratory workers, for whom there is no long-term residence” (Lee 1966: 49). Several other approaches to international migration have emerged as dominant and generally accepted. Among them, some explain the reasons why the process begins and the ways in which it is operationalized, while others explain the perpetuation of migration once it has begun. A consensus has developed that these approaches are not mutually exclusive, but are complementary and applicable to different types of international migration processes. Neoclassical economics, new economics of migration, segmented labor market, and world-systems analysis are the dominant models that explain the initiation of the migration process, while networks, institutions, cumulative causation, and migration systems explain its continuation. Neoclassical Economics The neoclassical economics approach to international migration is based on the premise that individuals migrate in order to improve their standard of living. This approach recognizes the imbalance between the supply and

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demand of labor and capital such that there is an abundance of labor in developing or migrant-sending countries, while capital is more readily available in developed or migrant-receiving countries. According to this theory, migration will continue to compensate for this imbalance, as individuals’ decisions to migrate are based on the perceived potential to maximize earnings. Massey et al. (1994) use the example of Puerto Rican migration to the US mainland to support the claims of the neoclassical economics model, although they agree that it does not adequately explain fluctuations in the international movement of people. The case of Puerto Rican migration to the United States represents an unusual case, as it is not actually international migration. Although the move from the island to the mainland involves linguistic and cultural adaptation, Puerto Ricans hold US citizenship. Massey et  al. found that the analyses of several scholars (Fleisher 1963; Maldonado 1976; Castillo-Freeman and Freeman 1992; Santiago 1991, 1993) indicate to varying degrees that lower wages and higher unemployment rates in Puerto Rico relative to the US mainland result in higher rates of emigration from the island, as the neoclassical economics model predicts (Massey et al. 1994). Similarly, this model represents the movement of domestic labor migration in the Brazilian case, in which the unequal distribution of income is geographically based. Even though the migration is internal, employment and wage differentials between Brazil’s northeastern and southern regions provide motivation for migrant workers to move from the former region to the latter. Massey et al. do, however, support the conclusions of Ramos (1992) and Castillo-Freeman and Freeman (1992), both of whom argue that “Puerto Rican migration is driven more by displacement arising from structural economic change than from yearly fluctuations in the wage gap” (Massey et al. 1994: 711). While this observation does not necessarily refute the emphasis on the economic incentive to migrate, which is inherent in the neoclassical economics model, it does underscore the impact of economic disparity in creating “push factors” for migrants. The neoclassical economics model of migration is applicable as an explanatory tool for migration from Brazil’s northeastern to southeastern states, as the former represents an area that is abundant in labor, while the latter boasts higher wages and a greater availability of resources. Brazilian sugarcane cutters in the southeast earn an average monthly income that ranges from 15 to 100 percent higher than the monthly wages in the northeast (Moraes 2011; Romero 2000). For example, in Pernambuco in

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the northeast, sugarcane cutters earn a median monthly salary of US$167, while in São Paulo, they earn US$195 (Kenfield 2007). Consequently, the migrant flow moves in a north-south direction, from the labor-abundant regions of the northeast to the capital-abundant areas of the southeast. Although domestic migrants in Brazil do not face the same legal issues surrounding residence and/or citizenship as international migrants, or the linguistic and cultural concerns of Puerto Ricans in the United States, they are nonetheless migrants, leaving the familiarity of their homes and settling in sometimes-unfriendly locales. However, one of the critiques of the neoclassical model is that, by assuming that migrants are individual rational actors who make migration choices based on the individual’s propensity for upward socioeconomic mobility, the model has significant limitations and ignores a range of other considerations, including the role of the family in the decision-making process. New Economics of Migration Like the neoclassical approach, the new economics of migration assumes that there are global economic imbalances that encourage people to make rational choices in order to maximize their socioeconomic potential. However, this approach does not assume that the individual makes these choices independently. Rather, the inclusion of the nuclear or extended family, or in some cases even the community, facilitates the sharing of both the costs and the benefits of migration, or in the words of Massey et al. (1994: 712), “poor households use international migration in a deliberate way to diversify their labor portfolio.” Community and familial relationships are central to the migration flows of Brazilian sugarcane workers. Male sugarcane cutters interviewed in Guariba indicated that their quality of life improves in several ways when they are accompanied by their partners or spouses. Most importantly, the partners are able to share the household duties, enabling the male workers to focus solely on their paid labor. While most female sugarcane cutters face the double burden of household and paid work, they are also in some cases aided by the extended family, including fictive kin, most often in the form of child care. As such, this model is a useful lens through which to view domestic labor migration in the case of sugarcane workers in Brazil, although as with the neoclassical model, there remains an assumption that individuals and family members are rational actors who make decisions based primarily on economic interests.

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Segmented Labor Market The segmented or dual labor market approach to migration is based on the assumption that migration is driven by the labor demands of industrialized societies rather than by push factors in the migrant-sending countries (Piore 1979; Massey et al. 1993). The migration decision, according to this approach, is not based on a rational choice made by individuals or households. Rather, migration results from the bifurcated labor market that is typical of capitalist economies. Within these societies, jobs that are unstable or menial and offer low wages are distinct from those that are stable or professional and pay well. Massey et al. (1993) argue that this economic dualism creates a division among workers and makes it difficult to attract native workers to the unappealing and unstable employment sectors. The result is a demand for migrant labor to fill these positions, and the consequent labeling of some occupations as “immigrant jobs.” Occupations such as domestic and agricultural work in the United States, for example, often receive a majority of foreign-born workers. In California, 95 percent of farm workers in 2000 were foreign born, with 100 percent of newly arrived workers also foreign born (Martin 2001: 3). While this bifurcation of the labor markets of migrant-receiving societies does preserve employment opportunities for immigrants with limited alternative prospects, the structure also has the negative impact of pigeonholing immigrants as unskilled workers and may disincentivize employers from improving wages or working conditions in these fields. The structure of sugarcane labor in Brazil is such that cane cutters, who engage in arduous manual labor, fall to the bottom of the hierarchy. This level of labor is almost exclusively reserved for migrant workers. While other positions in the industry are by no means trivial, the more secure “indoor” positions, such as those inside of the factories, are typically reserved for permanent workers, or those who are native to or have settled in the communities in which the sugar mills are found. Workers are recruited from the less affluent states of Brazil’s northeast to cut cane in the fields of the southern and central states. That migrants work in the fields while locals work in the factories suggests the type of segmented labor market that this theory describes. This type of labor organization was observed in Guariba, where the overwhelming majority of the sugarcane cutters are migrants from the northeast. As a result of the high rate of unemployment in Brazil’s northeast and the consequent abundance of available labor from this region, migrant sugarcane cutters have limited

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leverage with which to demand improved wages or working conditions, even in spite of being Brazilians, presumably with the same civil rights as their co-workers. World-Systems Approach As in the cases of the other major theories of international migration, world-systems analysis is also applicable to domestic migration in the Brazilian context. According to the world-systems approach to international migration, since the sixteenth century, there has been a global division of states and regions whereby core states are abundant in capital; the periphery is abundant in labor, raw materials, and consumer markets (Massey et  al. 1993: 444); and the semi-periphery combines elements from the core and the periphery. Migration, according to this approach, is the inevitable result of the problems that are created by capitalist development, as “the penetration of capitalist economic relations into peripheral, noncapitalist societies creates a mobile population that is prone to migrate abroad” (Massey et al. 1993: 444). Brazil, as a semiperipheral country, is divided geographically along socioeconomic lines, the south being considerably more affluent than the north. Brazil’s northeastern region accounts for 18.3 percent of the country’s land and 28.5 percent of its population. However, this region provides only 13.5 percent of the national income and has a per capita income of US$1836. In contrast, the southeast contains 10.9 percent of the national territory and 42.7 percent of the population. This region produces 58.1 percent of the national income and has a per capita income of US$5443 (Azzoni 2001: 135). The sharp contrast between economic conditions in the two regions is reflected in the higher unemployment rates in the northeast. In the northeastern city of Salvador, for example, the unemployment rate was 12.1 percent in July 2008, while the unemployment rate in the southeastern city of São Paulo during the same period was 8.3 (IBGE). As world-systems analysis predicts, there is an abundance of labor in the northeast, which was historically the dominant region of sugarcane production under Portuguese colonization. Although world-systems analysis emphasizes global divisions that are rooted in capitalist development in the core, a similar structure exists within the large semi-peripheral geographic space that is Brazil. Brazil’s capitalist expansion and development is concentrated in the central and southern regions, where agricultural, industrial, and financial sectors

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­ ourish. Conversely, the northeast relies excessively on its weak agriculfl tural sector, which is proving to be unsustainable. While natural resources and raw materials are found throughout the country, the northeast has long been an area with an abundance of labor and a heavy reliance on the export of raw materials. During the sixteenth century, which marks the inception of the global division of core and periphery states, Brazil’s northeast was the primary area for development of the sugarcane plantation economy and the accompanying importation of enslaved labor from Africa. Environmental degradation coupled with stagnant agricultural technology in the northeast has left this region’s economy lagging behind that of the rest of the country, leaving an impoverished population with little economic impetus to remain. Persistent poverty and unemployment in northeastern Brazil suggest that labor migration will continue to take place from the north to the south of the country as long as there remains an unequal distribution of wealth, resources, and cheap labor between the regions. The effects of the abundance of labor in Brazil’s northeast are compounded by the fact that the region, which was once the main sugarcane-­ growing area, has been largely deforested and is prone to desertification. Sugarcane remains prominent in the region mainly because of the historical dependency on this commodity. However, production in the southeast is more widespread, intensive, and efficient, particularly due to capital investment in the southeast’s sugarcane and ethanol industries. Networks Among the theoretical approaches that are used to explain the continuation of the migration process once it has begun (institutions, cumulative causation, and migration systems being the most widely used), the network approach is the most applicable to the case of internal labor migration in Brazil. Networks represent a key component of the migration process, as they affect migrants’ decisions regarding their destination locale. Information about the destination is channeled to prospective migrants through those who have already made the journey. As such, the networks, which are composed of prospective migrants, migrants, and returned migrants, among others, are all components of the decision-­ making process. Furthermore, these networks are crucial to migrant adaptation, as networks facilitate the processes of securing employment and housing, thereby mitigating some of the challenges of the migration experience. Networks may consist of family, friends, or others, but are most

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closely linked to geographic space. Migrants typically form or join networks with those from their hometown, region, or country and who have a unique understanding of their experience. Within the context of Brazilian migrant sugarcane workers, networks are fundamental to the migration process. All of the migrant sugarcane workers interviewed in Guariba noted that they were informed of the employment opportunity through someone they knew, most often a relative or friend, and in a few cases, a recruiter. Consequently, there is a spatial pattern that is consistent with Levitt’s (2001) findings in her study of Dominican migrants in Boston. Levitt emphasizes the value of migrant networks and ethnic enclaves in her study of transnational migration between the Dominican Republic and Boston. Specifically, she underscores the relevance of networks in the decision to migrate to a particular city, as her research was centered on migrants from the Dominican town of Miraflores. In this case, the overwhelming majority of Mirafloreño migrants choose Boston as their destination city because of their networks there. Similarly, migrant sugarcane workers interviewed in Guariba were exclusively from the state of Maranhão, and the majority of them were from the municipality of Timbiras. Another way in which networks function within the context of Brazilian sugarcane migrant labor is through the role of labor contractors or recruiters, known in Brazil as empreiteiros, or more commonly but derogatorily as gatos. Empreiteiros are often from the same community, city, or state as the workers they recruit, as this fosters a more trusting relationship. Playing essentially the same role as labor recruiters in California’s agricultural labor market, many empreiteiros begin as workers, become supervisors, and are eventually promoted to the multifaceted position of recruiting workers (Ortiz 2002: 402). In addition to recruiting, empreiteiros also transport workers to the work sites and supervise in the fields. Many scholars argue that empreiteiros exploit workers (Pereira 1992: 174), hence the common use of the term gatos—literally, cats—to describe them as deceptive, untrustworthy, and even traitors to their kin. However, other scholars, though few, observe the benefits of the empreiteiros, who play a mediating role between seasonal agricultural workers and their employers. Rezende and Kreter (2001), for example, argue that empreiteiros facilitate communication between the two parties and reduce labor costs for employers. As such, they play an important role in the producers’ economic productivity. In either case, empreiteiros, considering their role in facilitating housing, transportation, and employment for migrants, are key players in the networks of migrant sugarcane workers.

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Internal Migration Although the approaches described above do not directly refer to domestic migration, they are potentially applicable. Internal migration is generally omitted from migration theories, which tend to emphasize movements across borders, yet it is a significant phenomenon that deserves greater attention. In addition to the millions of people who are internally displaced because of violent conflict, natural disasters, or other emergencies, countless others are also voluntary migrants in their home countries. While international migrants have concerns regarding citizenship, discrimination, and acculturation, their experiences are not as different from those of domestic migrants as they might appear. Domestic migrants may not share citizenship concerns, but in some cases such as China, for example, they need authorization to migrate even within their home countries (Pieke and Mallee 1999). Domestic migrants may also face difficulties acculturating, particularly in large, culturally and socio-economically divided countries such as China, India, and Brazil. South Africa, in which the majority, indigenous population was reduced to foreign status under apartheid, is one example of the fragile line between native and foreigner. Palestine, in which another population with an historical memory of citizenship has become restricted to particular areas, is another. These cases in which citizens become foreigners in their native lands, whether through internal migration or political shifts, warrant befitting theoretical consideration. Despite the contemporary prominence of theoretical approaches that favor international migration, several scholars (e.g., Pryor 1981; Todaro 1980; Speare 1974; Elizaga 1972; Sjaastad 1962; Schultz 1962) have ventured to develop theoretical frameworks for the study of internal migration, particularly during the mid- to late-twentieth century when internal flows of people from rural to urban areas were intensified. In her 1968 study of internal migration in Brazil, Sahota identifies three main theories that she uses to support her treatment of this type of population movement. The first, which she refers to as neoclassical, resembles the neoclassical economic framework used to explain international migration. It is based on the premise that human beings are rational actors who weigh the costs and benefits of migration based on the potential for economic gain for themselves and possibly their family members. Migration, according to this approach, is an investment, or as Schultz phrases it, “people enhance their capabilities as producers and as consumers by investing in themselves” (Schultz 1962: 1). Schultz goes on to state that “the structure of

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wages and salaries is primarily determined by investment in schooling, health, on-the-job training, searching for information about job opportunities and by investment in migration” (Schultz 1962: 2), in essence referring to migration (among other processes) as an investment in human capital that has the potential to reduce income inequalities. Similarly, Sjaastad views internal migration as a response to income disparities within countries. While he affirms that migrants respond to wage differentials by relocating, he also challenges the effectiveness of migration in reducing or eliminating inter-regional income gaps (Sjaastad 1962: 82). While people in lower-wage areas may seek to improve their economic opportunities and status by migrating, the decision takes account of factors such as the likelihood of a return on the investment. Sahota emphasizes age as a factor, explaining that migration is more common among the young because there are more opportunities for economic gain over the longer time frame that youth allows (Sahota 1968: 220). The second approach that Sahota identifies acknowledges migrant selectivity and views it as a potential path toward greater economic development, particularly in developing countries (Sahota 1968: 220). Migrants, who are deemed to be ambitious and industrious, have the capacity to encourage greater interregional parity through population redistribution, according to this perspective. However, there is little empirical evidence to support this perspective, and as Todaro (1980: 363) asserts, “migration substantially in excess of new job opportunities is both a symptom of and a factor contributing to Third World underdevelopment.” The southward migration of Brazil’s sugarcane workers may be said to increase productivity in the sugarcane and ethanol industries by providing a cheap source of labor and by directing capital to northern cities through wages and remittances. However, the persistent annual cycle of internal migrants suggests that any benefit to the northeastern labor force is temporary and unsustainable. Like international migration, internal migration is not a long-term solution to underdevelopment and inequality. The third approach to which Sahota refers is the most encompassing and is based on Ravenstein’s principles of human mobility (1889) and Lee’s “push-pull” model (1966), in which the migration decision is ­determined by an evaluation of the positive and negative qualities of the home and host regions. While this overlaps with the neoclassical model, it also considers non-economic factors. Migrants may, for example, be attracted to the social qualities of the destination region, even when there

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is no evidence that their economic status will improve upon migration. Internal migrants may similarly be attracted to the qualities that different regions have to offer, such as climate and lifestyle changes, as evident in movement between rural and urban areas. Todaro (1980), too, offers a framework for the study of internal migration (also rural to urban), which he refers to as the “Todaro model.” He summarizes the four main features of this model as follows: 1. migration is stimulated primarily by rational economic considerations of relative benefits and costs, mostly financial, but also psychological; 2. the decision to migrate depends on “expected” rather than actual urban-rural real wage differentials, where the “expected” differential is determined by the interaction of two variables—the actual urban-rural wage differential and the probability of successfully obtaining employment in the urban modern sector; 3. the probability of obtaining an urban job is inversely related to the urban unemployment rate; and 4. migration rates in excess of urban job opportunity growth rates are not only possible but rational and likely in the face of continued positive urban-rural expected income differentials. High rates of urban unemployment are therefore inevitable outcomes of the serious imbalances of economic opportunities between urban and rural areas of most underdeveloped countries (Todaro 1980: 371). Todaro’s model neatly captures the essence of much of the scholarship on internal migration. However, like the other scholars discussed here, his emphasis on rural-urban migration overlooks the experiences of migrants who travel from impoverished urban or rural areas to agricultural regions in which there is a demand for labor. This omission is understandable given that the type of migration flow that is observed among seasonal sugarcane workers in Brazil is a relatively recent phenomenon and was probably rare during the period in which these approaches were developed. Furthermore, as Lee suggested, seasonal mobility traditionally has not been considered as migration (Lee 1966: 49). However, given the contemporary significance of the rural flows of agricultural labor migrants in Brazil, a more nuanced paradigm is needed, which may be applicable to similar patterns of agricultural labor in India or pastoral communities in parts of Africa.

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Speare (1974) notes the differences between international and internal migration, and argues that they require different theoretical approaches. Migrant experiences related to factors such as immigration status, language barriers, discrimination, and culture shock are not usually applicable to internal migrants. Pryor (1981), on the other hand, emphasizes the similarities between international and internal migration, and advocates integrating the theoretical approaches of the two. Like Pryor, this study does not espouse a new, all-encompassing theory of migration that reflects both internal and international movements. Rather, I support a more inclusive, integrated way in which to apply the various models and approaches that explain or predict population movements, as internal migration can indeed involve discrimination, limitations to acculturation, and the separation of families, as this study illustrates. Pryor argues that the relationship between internal and international migration should be considered as a continuum rather than a dichotomy. He presents seven dimensions of continuity that provide a framework for understanding the beginning, perpetuation, and impact of population movements, inclusive of those that occur across and within borders (Pryor 1981: 112). These dimensions are, “the temporal; spatial; rural/urban nature of communities of origin and destination; motivation; intensity of commitment to current location; nature, continuity, density, and strength of personal networks; and the selectivity dimension” (Pryor 1981: 112). What Pryor is arguing here is that internal and international migration are not dichotomous, but should instead be conceptualized as occupying different spaces on a continuum (Pryor 1981: 112). This paradigm does not privilege one type of migrant over another as needier or having endured greater hardships. The process of uprooting self and family can be equally challenging with or without an international border to cross. There are significant parallels between the motivations for population movements, regardless of the internal or international nature of the movement. As Pryor expresses, “voluntary migrants seek a destination where their aspirations or needs can be met, but preferably also where they will feel at home because of the proximity of relatives or friends, or at least will find a familiar social environment” (Pryor 1981: 126). Pryor (1981) identifies five “spheres” in which the integration of theories of internal and international migration is feasible, since the factors that they include are applicable to both internal and international migration processes. They are:

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–– Differentials and selectivity: the characteristics of migrants that explain migrant selectivity. –– Causal factors: factors that explain migrants’ motivation to migrate. –– Patterns of migration flows: destination choices are generally influenced by networks. –– Consequences of migration: impacts of migration on individuals, families, communities, and states. –– Political aspects: immigration policies in the case of international migrants, and human rights policies in the case of internal migrants. In an attempt to integrate approaches to internal and international migration, Pryor proposes a sub-regional model of migration that reflects cultural considerations. This project proposes a different approach, with a categorization of models that is based on the type of migration rather than the geographic space(s) in which the process occurs. For example, there are greater similarities between Brazilian sugarcane workers who migrate seasonally from north to south and Jamaican workers who traveled seasonally between Jamaica and Florida than there are between Jamaicans in Florida who are seasonal workers and those who are long-term immigrants. Jamaicans have been migrating seasonally to the United States since 1943 through the British West Indies Temporary Alien Labor Program, which was initiated in response to labor shortages that stemmed from World War II, yet there remains a clear distinction between seasonal and permanent Jamaican immigrants in the United States in spite of shared national identity.

Internal Colonialism As a framework of analysis, the theoretical concept of internal colonialism underscores the socioeconomic, racial, ethnic, and geographic inequalities that are pervasive in Brazil, and has been defined as “a geographically-based pattern of subordination of a differentiated population, located within the dominant power or country” (Pinderhughes 2011). Internal colonialism has not traditionally been used in analyses of migration, yet it helps explain the inequality within large, diverse countries such as Brazil that creates the impetus for internal movement from areas that are abundant in labor to areas that are abundant in capital. While migration from rural to urban areas is a common response to the rural job losses that accompanied the industrialization of agriculture in Latin America and elsewhere, the phe-

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nomenon that this book examines is atypical, as workers in this case travel from both rural and urban parts of the Brazilian northeast to seek jobs in the rural agricultural lands of the south. Internal colonialism, which emphasizes the uneven development and the economic, social, and demographic heterogeneity that are characteristic of Brazil, is used here as an explanatory tool for the discrepancy in the distribution of resources and capital that incites this type of migration. Internal colonialism has been used since as early as the 1930s to explain the relationship between the northern and southern regions of the United States (Stone 1979), but became more widely used—and widely criticized—in 1969 when Blauner, in his essay “Internal Colonialism and Ghetto Revolt,” used it as the theoretical basis of his discussion of African American marginalization in the United States (Blauner 1969). Blauner identifies several features that are characteristic of internal colonization, among which control of the marginalized or colonized population by the dominant or colonizing population is forefront. Blauner observes that African Americans have a very limited role in the institutions and governance of the cities in which they live. The Brazilian case is similar, where the affluent, southern part of the country holds much of the control over the political and economic structure of the country, including the northeast itself. Another point that Blauner and others make with regard to the intersection between the colonized and the colonizers is that there is often racial and/or ethnic discrimination and an attempt to suppress the culture of the colonized population (Blauner 1969: 396; Williams 1977: 273–4). There is historical and contemporary evidence of discrimination against the darker-skinned population of the northeast, where a large segment of the population is of African descent. Practitioners of Afro-Brazilian religions have confronted intolerance and persecution, as their belief systems have been labeled as cults or witchcraft, in contrast to the dominant Catholicism of the colonizers (Roca 2005), while Afro-Brazilian religious entities were required to register with the police until 1974 (Nascimento 2001: 514). While religion is certainly not the only indicator of racial discrimination in Brazil, Telles describes African-based religions as “one of the strongest legacies of Africa in Brazil,” (Telles 2014: 101). With widespread consensus among scholars that the much-touted concept of Brazilian racial democracy is a fallacy, or more benignly, a myth (Bailey 2004), the Brazilian government has, since the turn of the twenty-first century, acknowledged the pervasiveness of racism and racial inequality and implemented a quota-based policy of affirmative action in an attempt

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to reduce racial stratification (Htun 2004). Although these policies have been criticized for reflecting a US-centric understanding of race and racism, the quotas have indeed served to increase the presence of blacks, women, and disabled people in higher education and in state agencies. The quotas functioned on multiple levels of various state agencies. For example, the Ministry of Agrarian Development, the Constitutional Court, and the Ministry of Justice each had quotas of 20 percent for black employees, while the Foreign Ministry, which until the early 2000s had only had one Afro-Brazilian heading a diplomatic mission, has since instituted scholarships for black candidates to prepare them for the public service entrance exam (Htun 2004: 68–9). While Blauner later shifted away from his use of internal colonialism, citing his concern that the theory produced no practical solution for the problems that it identifies, Pinderhughes has more recently advocated not only the continued exploration of internal colonialism, but a renewed, geographically based application of the theory that includes class analysis as well as other areas of social oppression such as gender (Pinderhughes 2010). While the relationship between the colony and the colonizer involves the exploitation of the former by the latter, several scholars have indicated the primacy of the economic differences and economic exploitation over racial, ethnic, or cultural discrepancies. Chaloult and Chaloult, for example, argue that “internal colonialism is primarily economic-political rather than cultural or social” (Chaloult and Chaloult 1979: 87). Similarly, Williams underscores the labor division that economic disparity between regions produces. In reference to the relationship between the internally colonized and their colonizers, he states that “as these asymmetrical relationships crystalize certain stratification systems are established such that the most prestigious positions are occupied by ‘core members’ giving rise in the periphery to what may be called a ‘cultural division of labour’” (Williams 1977: 274). This cultural division of labor is among the factors that perpetuate the movement of migrant workers from Brazil’s northeast to the south. Although he emphasizes racial, ethnic, and cultural ­differences as factors in internal colonialism, Gonzalez Casanova similarly acknowledges the economic dimension of the relationship between the colony and colonizers, as he underscores the exploitation of resources, including labor, in the colony (Casanova 1965). He also notes that lower compensation in the colony exacerbates existing inequalities between the two regions. McRoberts, too, recognizes that cultural and economic disparities are not mutually exclusive, and that the divisiveness of internal colo-

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nialism is evident in both the cultural and socioeconomic contexts: “By tying the phenomena of cultural particularism and territorial autonomism to the economic disadvantage of ‘peripheral’ regions, the ‘internal colonialism’ approach promises to link them to a central feature of the working of capitalist systems, the uneven development of regions” (McRoberts 1979: 294). While scholars have long sought to develop or identify theories of migration (Brettell and Hollifield 2013), international migration has tended to be the trend driving the development and application of these theories, while rural-urban movement is the focus of paradigms of internal migration. Internal colonialism provides the most fitting conceptual lens through which to understand this particular pattern of migration, given the uneven development between Brazil’s north and south, and the cultural and economic divergences that accompany the geographic differences.

Summary Migration is an increasingly salient global issue, yet the process is too often assumed to be uniform. On the contrary, migrant experiences vary widely, depending on such factors as the type of migrant (e.g., temporary, permanent, student, highly skilled, undocumented); the origin and destination regions, countries, and cities; and the types of employment opportunities that the migrants are offered. While the Brazilian sugarcane migrant experience has some unique qualities, it is comparable with other examples of temporary labor migration. For example, Mexican or West Indian agricultural workers who travel seasonally to the United States face hardships such as family fragmentation, discrimination at the destination, and harsh living and working conditions that parallel the experiences of Brazilian seasonal agricultural workers, even though the latter are not international migrants. The harvest period in central and southeastern Brazil lasts on average six months, from about May to November, depending on weather conditions, variations in crops, and the ensuing demand for labor. During this period, workers leave their northeastern homes and travel to the ­southeast, where they live on the plantations or in tenement-style dwellings in the neighboring towns. They spend this period working in the fields cutting sugarcane. Research conducted for this project indicates that the most urgent concerns among migrant workers include:

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. Long hours of work under difficult conditions 1 2. Sub-standard living conditions 3. Inadequate nutrition 4. Health concerns pertaining to working conditions and poor quality of drinking water 5. Work-related injuries 6. Discrimination in the communities in which they live There is an absence of a model of migration that addresses the nuances of domestic labor migration. Domestic migration can be placed within the paradigms of some of the dominant approaches to the study of migration, as there are many similarities between the patterns and processes of domestic and international labor migrations. While these models are applicable to domestic labor migrants, there remains a demand for a theoretical approach to migration that considers the disparities that exist within countries and the consequent flows of labor in this context. This book proposes a broader interpretation of migration theories—and theories that have not traditionally been applied to migration—that accounts for the movement and experiences of internal migrants. In migration studies, the importance of context has been well documented, and studies on migrant communities and their experiences illustrate the myriad ways in which migration is experienced by different groups. While international migrants have the unique experiences of being uprooted (or uprooting themselves) and being transplanted (or transplanting themselves) into a foreign society, their understanding of the process does not differ much from that of internal migrants, particularly those in large countries where regional social, economic, and cultural differences are evident. What is proposed here is a theoretical framework that recognizes the paradox between Brazil’s development and position in the world economy and the poverty that forces its marginalized population in the northeast to resort to seasonal migration as a means of survival.

References Azzoni, Carlos. 2001. Economic Growth and Regional Income Inequality in Brazil. Annals of Regional Science 35 (1): 133–152. Bailey, Stanley R. 2004. Group Dominance and the Myth of Racial Democracy: Antiracism Attitudes in Brazil. American Sociological Review 69 (5): 728–747. Blauner, Robert. 1969. Internal Colonialism and Ghetto Revolt. Social Problems 16 (4): 393–408.

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Brettell, Caroline B., and James F.  Hollifield. 2013. Migration Theory: Talking Across Disciplines. 2nd ed. Florence: Taylor and Francis. Casanova, Pablo Gonzalez. 1965. Internal Colonialism and National Development. Studies in Comparative International Development 1 (4): 27–37. Castillo-Freeman, Alida J., and Richard B. Freeman. 1992. When the Minimum Wage Really Bites: The Effect of the U.S.-Level Minimum Wage on Puerto Rico. In Immigration and the Work Force: Economic Consequences for the United States and Source Areas, ed. George J. Borjas and Richard B. Freeman, 177–212. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Chaloult, Norma Beatriz, and Yves Chaloult. 1979. The Internal Colonialism Concept: Methodological Considerations. Social and Economic Studies 28 (4): 85–99. Elizaga, Juan C. 1972. Internal Migration: An Overview. International Migration Review 6 (2, Internal Migration in Latin America): 121–146. Fleisher, Belton M. 1963. Some Economic Aspects of Puerto Rican Migration to the United States. Review of Economics and Statistics 45: 2245–2253. Htun, Mala. 2004. From ‘Racial Democracy’ to Affirmative Action: Changing State Policy on Race in Brazil. Latin American Research Review 39 (1): 60–89. Kenfield, Isabella. 2007. Brazil’s Ethanol Plan Breeds Rural Poverty, Environmental Degradation. Americas Policy Program Discussion Paper. https://www.globalresearch.ca/brazil-s-ethanol-plan-breeds-rural-poverty-environmental-degradation/5012. Accessed 8 July 2019. Lee, Everett S. 1966. A Theory of Migration. Demography 3 (1): 47–57. Levitt, Peggy. 2001. The Transnational Villagers. Berkeley: University of California Press. Maldonado, Rita. 1976. Why Puerto Ricans migrated to the United States in 1947–1973. Monthly Labor Review 99 (9): 7–18. Martin, Philip. 2001. Farm Labor in California: Then and Now. Center for Comparative Immigration Studies Working Paper Series. http://repositories. cdlib.org/ccis/papers/wrkg37/. Accessed 13 Aug 2018. Massey, Douglas S., Joaquin Arango, Graeme Hugo, Ali Kouaouci, Adela Pellegrino, and J. Edward Taylor. 1993. Theories of International Migration: A Review and Appraisal. Population and Development Review 19 (3): 431–466. ———. 1994. An Evaluation of International Migration Theory: The North American Case. Population and Development Review 20 (4): 699–751. McRoberts, Kenneth. 1979. Internal Colonialism: The Case of Quebec. Ethnic and Racial Studies 2 (3): 293–318. Moraes, Marcia Azanha Ferraz Dias de. 2011. Determinants of the Income of Workers in Sugar Cane Plantations and in the Sugar and Ethanol Industries in the North-Northeast and Center-South Regions of Brazil. In Energy, Bio Fuels and Development: Comparing Brazil and the United States, ed. Edmund Amann, Werner Baer, and Donald V. Coes. New York: Routledge.

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Nascimento, Elisa Larkin. 2001. It’s in the Blood: Notes on Race Attitudes in Brazil from a Different Perspective. In Beyond Racism: Race and Inequality in Brazil, South Africa, and the United States, ed. Charles V. Hamilton. Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Ortiz, Sutti. 2002. Laboring in the Factories and in the Fields. Annual Review of Anthropology 31: 395–417. Pereira, Anthony W. 1992. Agrarian Reform and the Rural Workers’ Unions of the Pernambuco Sugar Zone, Brazil 1985–1988. The Journal of Developing Areas 26 (2): 169–192. Pieke, Frank N., and Hein Mallee. 1999. Internal and International Migration: Chinese Perspectives. Surrey: Curzon Press. Pinderhughes, Charles. 2010. How ‘Black Awakening in Capitalist America’ Laid the Foundation for a New Internal Colonialism Theory. The Black Scholar 40 (2, Black Awakening in Capitalist America: An Analytic History): 71–78. ———. 2011. Toward a New Theory of Internal Colonialism. Socialism and Democracy 25 (1). http://sdonline.org/55/toward-a-new-theory-of-internalcolonialism1/. Accessed 25 Jan 2016. Piore, Michael J. 1979. Birds of Passage: Migrant Labor in Industrial Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pryor, Robin J. 1981. Integrating International and Internal Migration Theories. In Global Trends in Migration: Theory and Research on International Population Movements, ed. Mary M.  Kritz, Charles B.  Keely, and Silvano M.  Tomasi. New York: Center for Migration Studies. Ramos, Fernando. 1992. Out-Migration and Return Migration of Puerto Ricans. In Immigration and the Work Force: Economic Consequences for the United States and Source Areas, ed. George J.  Borjas and Richard B.  Freeman, 49–66. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ravenstein, E.G. 1889. The Laws of Migration. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 52 (2): 241–305. Rezende, Gervásio Castro de, and Ana Cecília Kreter. 2001. Agricultural Labor Legislation and Poverty in Brazil: A Transaction Costs Approach. Rev. de Economia Agrícola, São Paulo 54 (2): 121–137. Roca, Roger Sansi. 2005. Catholic Saints, African Gods, Black Masks and White Heads: Tracing the History of Some Religious Festivals in Bahia. Portuguese Studies 21: 182–200. Romero, Simon. 2000. Spoonfuls of Hope, Tons of Pain; In Brazil’s Sugar Empire, Workers Struggle with Mechanization. New York Times, May 21. Sahota, Gian S. 1968. An Economic Analysis of Internal Migration in Brazil. Journal of Political Economy 76 (2): 218–245. Santiago, Carlos E. 1991. Wage Policies, Employment, and Puerto Rican Migration. In Hispanics in the Labor Force: Issues and Policies, ed. Edwin Melendez, Clara Rodriguez, and Janis Barry Figueroa, 275–307. New York: Plenum.

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———. 1993. The Migratory Impact of Minimum Wage Legislation: Puerto Rico, 1970–1987. International Migration Review 27: 772–795. Schultz, Theodore W. 1962. Reflections on Investment in Man. Journal of Political Economy 70 (5, Part 2: Investment in Human Beings): 1–8. Sjaastad, Larry A. 1962. The Costs and Returns of Human Migration. Journal of Political Economy 70 (5, Part 2: Investment in Human Beings): 80–93. Speare, A., Jr. 1974. Residential Satisfaction as an Intervening Variable in Residential Mobility. Demography 11: 173–188. Stone, John. 1979. Internal Colonialism in Comparative Perspective. Ethnic and Racial Studies 2 (3): 255–260. Telles, Edward E. 2014. Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Todaro, Michael P. 1980. Internal Migration in Developing Countries: A Survey. In Population and Economic Change in Developing Countries, ed. Richard A. Easterlin, 361–402. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Williams, Stephen Wyn. 1977. Internal Colonialism, Core-Periphery Contrasts, and Devolution: An Integrative Comment. Area 9 (4): 272–278.

CHAPTER 3

The Life and Work of a Manual Sugarcane Harvester

Abstract  This chapter highlights the labor dimension of the sugarcane industry and examines the relationship among the workers, recruiters, and owners, vis-à-vis the hierarchical structure that was established during Brazil’s colonial period. Within the sugarcane industry, manual cane harvesting is arguably the most dangerous and physically difficult type of work. It is also the type of work that offers the lowest wages. Injuries occur with frequency, as workers are often inadequately equipped for the inherent danger of rapidly slashing stalks of sugarcane with machetes. Cane cutters contend with excessive sun exposure, dehydration, and exhaustion, which have caused a number of deaths in the cane fields. Not surprisingly, it is the task that is generally reserved for migrant workers. This chapter also discusses housing accommodations and living conditions, as well as the range of health problems that workers endure, such as respiratory illnesses and chronic renal failure. Keywords  Working conditions • Housing • Health • Sugarcane burning • Mechanization • Recruiters

Introduction Within the sugarcane industry, manual harvesting is arguably the most dangerous and physically difficult type of work. It is also the type of work that offers the lowest wages. Injuries occur frequently, as workers are often inadequately equipped for the inherent danger of rapidly slashing stalks of © The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2_3

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sugarcane with machetes. Cane cutters contend with excessive sun exposure, dehydration, and exhaustion, which have been attributed to several deaths in the cane fields. For example, between 2004 and 2007, there were 21 reported deaths of sugarcane workers in the cane fields of São Paulo, most of whom are thought to be migrants from the northeast (Luz et al. 2012), and these deaths are largely attributed to exhaustion (Rocha et  al. 2010). Not surprisingly, cane cutting is the task that is generally reserved for migrant workers. Jobs inside the factories are almost exclusively allocated to permanent residents of the region. Although migrant workers contend that discrimination is a factor, sugar mill owners claim that their preference for permanent residents is partly based on the skills that the factory jobs require, which are acquired over an extended period. They argue, furthermore, that operations within the factories can take place year-round, while cane cutting is seasonal, with a harvest season that lasts about 6–8 months. Despite the long hours, arduous conditions, and low wages, sugarcane cutting remains an attractive option for migrant workers from northeastern Brazil, as the wages in the south are between 50 and 100 percent higher than wages in the northeast (Moraes 2011). Consequently, the migration continues as men and women seek livelihoods in sugarcane cutting. This chapter illustrates the challenges that seasonal sugarcane cutters in Brazil face within their home country, which parallel those that migrant agricultural workers face when they cross international borders. The chapter discusses the labor dimension of the sugarcane industry and depicts the living and working conditions of migrant sugarcane workers, emphasizing the congruence between working conditions within the domestic and international migration contexts. The chapter also examines the relationship among the workers, recruiters, and sugar mill owners, vis-à-vis the hierarchical structure that was established during Brazil’s colonial period.

Sugarcane Labor: Then and Now Sugarcane cultivation has long characterized the economies of many Latin American and Caribbean states. Labor has shifted from the enslavement that accompanied sugar production under colonial powers to wage labor; yet in many ways, the working conditions have remained similar. As I did field research for this book, a statement from Sidney Mintz’s Sweetness and Power (1985: xviii) weighed heavily on my mind: “Only the sound of the

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whip was missing.” On today’s plantations, workers are monitored with a measuring tool that determines how many rows they have cut, and instead of the whip, those who are deemed to be underperforming face the threat of job loss if they fall short of the required standards. Sugarcane was first introduced to Brazil in the early sixteenth century, and despite fluctuations in profitability and dominance, it has remained an important industry since then. Early sugarcane workers were indigenous Brazilians, with whom Portuguese colonizers bartered for their labor. Later, as a consequence of increased labor demands stemming from the expansion of sugarcane cultivation, enslaved indigenous people were the primary source of plantation labor. However, they were subsequently replaced by enslaved Africans, in part because of the expansion of the industry, and also because of Jesuit opposition to indigenous enslavement (Alexander 1922). As Rout (1976: 77) noted, “most clergymen agreed that slave labor was absolutely vital, and if the Indian were to be saved, then the African had to suffer.” Furthermore, blacks were deemed to be stronger and consequently a superior labor force for the sugarcane plantations (Rout 1976: 73). The Portuguese initially imported enslaved Africans from the sugarcane plantations of Madeira, a Portuguese colony, where they had experience in sugarcane cultivation. Larger numbers of enslaved Africans were later taken directly from Africa, forming the basis of Brazil’s sizable Afro-descendant population, and for more than 300 years until the abolishment of slavery in 1888, enslaved Africans enriched the economy through the production of sugarcane. As was the case in the racially mixed societies of the Americas, a stark hierarchy rooted in racial classification was pervasive in Brazil. Within this hierarchy, which both dictated and represented political and economic power as well as social status, blacks or the descendants of Africans were at the lowest level, followed by the indigenous population and those of mixed race, and as is the case in much of the colonial and post-colonial world, whites or the descendants of Europeans were at the top of the ­hierarchy, holding power, which they wielded over the rest of the population. The overwhelming majority of the Afro-descendant population in Brazil is concentrated in the northeast which is also the most impoverished region and the source of the seasonal migration that supplies the sugarcane plantations of São Paulo with their labor force (Fischlowitz and Villegas 1962; Martine 1971; Baptista et al. 2018). It was not uncommon for enslaved people who had been initially taken to northeastern Brazil from Africa to be later sold or traded to coffee plantations in the south

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(Galloway 1971). Domestic migration has long been commonplace in Brazil, and even before emancipation, the inter-state slave trade facilitated the southward movement of enslaved workers from the sugarcane plantations of the northeast to the coffee plantations of the south. Contemporary internal migration flows in Brazil mirror those of the slavery and post-­ emancipation eras, as labor remains more abundant in the northeast and employment opportunities are more plentiful in the south. As Fredrickson (2016: 3) notes, “The legacy of earlier racial attitudes and hierarchies is difficult, if not impossible, to overcome or fully transcend when racial orders are being reconstructed or reinvented. The burden of history can be lightened, but it would be utopian to think it can be entirely eliminated.” Brazil’s contemporary social and economic structures developed under colonialism and have fostered the stark inequalities within the population that create the need for citizens to travel seasonally across the country for menial labor. Northeastern Brazil, where the Afro-descendant population tends to concentrate, was the dominant region of sugarcane production when sugar exports were at the height of their profitability in the seventeenth century. While sugarcane production in Brazil has historically relied on the forced migration of Africans, contemporary sugarcane harvesting is dependent on a seasonal migrant labor force that travels from the most destitute parts of the country’s northeast to the plantations of rural São Paulo, which now dominates in agricultural productivity. Goza et al. (1997) identify macro- and micro-level factors that affect seasonal labor migration among Brazilian sugarcane workers. Among the macro-level elements are “development of the sugar economy as a result of changing conditions in the world market for sugar and political decisions made by the Brazilian state, the loss of usufruct rights by peasant farmers, and their partial displacement from the land.” These macro-level factors, they argue, have shaped the current configuration of inequality and labor exploitation that characterizes the sugarcane industry (Goza et al. 1997: 34), resulting in the treatment and experiences of workers as observed at the micro-level. While a direct comparison is not being made between Brazil’s seasonal migrant sugarcane workers and seasonal migrant agricultural workers in the international context, the chapter does maintain that the conditions of Brazil’s migrant sugarcane workers parallel those of seasonal agricultural workers who cross international borders, such as West Indians who worked in the sugarcane fields of Florida.

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Working Conditions Working conditions on Brazilian sugarcane plantations vary widely, but there is ample evidence to conclude that the exploitation of workers is common in this industry. Much has been documented about the plight of sugarcane workers (e.g., Martinelli and Filoso 2008; Ortiz 2002; Goza et  al. 1997) and the long hours of work and strenuous conditions that they encounter. The days are long and the weeks are prolonged due to the typical practice of working five days in a row with only a one-day break before resuming work, essentially working six out of every seven days. The continuation of the process under these conditions is dependent on the persistence of regional inequality in Brazil. That seasonal workers continue to migrate despite the harsh conditions is an indicator of the destitute circumstances that they leave behind in the northeast, as well as the promise of upward socioeconomic mobility that the southern states hold. The particular pattern of migration that Brazil’s seasonal sugarcane labor force creates is unique. It differs from other models of internal migration, in which the flows are most often from rural to urban areas. Brazilian seasonal sugarcane workers, in contrast, move to rural sugarcane fields, often from poor northeastern cities and destitute rural communities. This process closely resembles that of international migrants, particularly those who migrate seasonally such as West Indians and Latin Americans who work in agricultural labor programs in the United States and Canada through bilateral agreements between their governments. While the specific hardships may differ, there are many parallels between the plights of domestic and international seasonal, migrant agricultural workers. Among them are the income differentials between the source and destination regions that necessitate the migration flows; discrimination and marginalization from members of the host communities, which persist even in the domestic context; substandard living and working conditions; meager wages; and limitations on the workers’ power to effect change through collective action and unionization. Further, Binford (2012) argues that the structure of the neoliberal political economy creates the context that necessitates and sustains a system in which people resort to these transient livelihoods. The necessity of the seasonal mobility of workers underscores the regional disparity that is rife in Brazil. The analytical tools with which scholars approach international migration are applicable to internal migration, although they are rarely used as such (Jones 2009). As discussed in

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Chap. 2, models such as the world-systems analysis and internal colonialism are useful for understanding the conditions that motivate the northeastern Brazilian seasonal labor force to spend six months or more toiling in the south. In essence, Brazil’s sharp socioeconomic inequality follows a regional pattern, with more capital and accompanying employment opportunities in the south, while the north faces challenges in economic opportunities and the resultant unemployment provides an abundant pool of labor that the south has been able to exploit. However, the hardships inherent to manual sugarcane harvesting are not restricted to Brazil’s southern states. Regardless of the location, the process involves potentially harmful conditions. In Guariba, the rural town deep in São Paulo’s agricultural interior that is the focus of this study, working conditions have improved slightly due to workers’ demands, as will be discussed below, but continue to produce undesirable health outcomes, in the forms of chronic illness, injuries, overwork, and musculoskeletal ailments.

The Workday of a Manual Harvester The workday for a manual sugarcane harvester begins at dawn, but for some, it begins much earlier. The workdays vary between workers who are housed on the plantations and those who live in private dwellings (usually rented rooms with shared common spaces). In the Guariba area, workers who live on the plantations are transported by bus to the area where they will be cutting cane for the day, while those who live off premises must travel significantly farther each morning and evening to reach the day’s harvesting area within the vast plantations. Those who live outside of the plantations must consequently begin their days earlier. My observations in comparison to those of other scholars indicate that the workdays and shifts vary based on the particular usina or sugar mill. The 45 sugarcane workers who participated in this study lived in rented rooms, which they shared with other workers and family members such as partners, children, or extended family. In their cases, a typical workday involved getting up by 4:00  a.m. in order to prepare their meals and travel to their work site, although several single men lamented that they had to wake up even earlier than their peers because they had to prepare their own lunches, whereas others benefitted from the presence of female partners who did not work with them in the fields and were therefore available to help them prepare for the day. The morning routines are dominated by lunch preparations. In Brazil, lunch is the main meal of the day, and it is customary to

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eat a hot, substantive meal at lunchtime. This is even more essential among sugarcane harvesters, given their energy exertion and their caloric needs throughout the day. Sugarcane harvesters are unable to return home during the day for lunch, so they must cook early in the morning and pack their meals to bring to the fields. The term bóias-frias, which literally translates as “cold lunches” (Welch 2006: 40; Pereira 1992: 174), has evolved to mean “temporary rural workers” (Eaglin 2015), “rural workers” (Hugo 2007), “migrant workers” (Van Rompaey 2008), “contingent workers” (Araújo and Simões 2004: 36), or “temporary wage laborers” (Saint 1981: 91), among other terms that  similarly connote a manual labor who lacks access to a hot meal during the day. Welch argues that the term bóias-frias is a form of cultural marginalization. As he states, “In a country which valued a hot lunch as the main meal of the day, the fact that harvesters carried their lunch boxes to the fields, eating it hours after making it, meant they were excluded from one of civilization’s benefits” (Welch 2006: 40). Although some of the usinas offer a hot lunch, most of the workers interviewed opted to bring their own meals either to replace or supplement what the usinas provide. Besides their complaints about the limited quantity of the meals and their preference for their own cooking rather than that of the usinas, they were also conscious of their caloric needs and several respondents shared that they experienced weight loss during their first few weeks in the fields because of the physical demands of the job in comparison to their food consumption. Consequently, they recognize their need to consume a sizable and balanced meal in order to sustain themselves throughout the day. Work begins at 7:00 a.m., although narratives of the duration of the shift varied, with some workers noting that they work an eight-hour shift, while others indicate that they work in shifts of ten hours. All the workers interviewed stated that they work for five days and then have one day off. Usinas typically provide transportation from pick-up points in the vicinity of the neighborhoods where the workers reside, as was the case for all of the participants in this study, who live about an hour’s drive from the usina. The workers walk to these pick-up points and the buses take them to the part of the field where the day’s harvest will take place. Within the usina, one could drive vast distances through cane fields. In the cases of the participants of this study, the area being harvested at the time of the interviews was about a 90-minute bus ride from their residence, mostly on bumpy dirt roads, which made an already long day even more arduous. They are assigned their rows that they are expected to cut, and with the

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Fig. 3.1  Manual sugarcane harvester in typical posture

exception of short breaks for lunch or to use the modest toilet facilities, they spend much of the day bent at the waist, cutting the sugarcane stalks at the base and then lifting the heavy bundles of stalks to place them into neat rows that would later be collected by machines. Figure 3.1 depicts the typical posture of a manual sugarcane harvester. As noted above, the use of the measuring tool suggested to me that the overseers exerted additional pressure on the workers as they went through their day. I note here additional because the workers are already pressured by their need to maximize their wages, which are paid based on the quantity of cane that they cut rather than on the number of hours worked. Surprisingly, none of my conversations with the workers revealed any vexation toward the overseers who monitored their work or regarding the use of the measuring tool, both of which were deemed to be simply aspects of the job. Our different interpretation of the pressure placed on the workers was a reminder of my different position as a researcher. Despite this awareness, I maintain that the use of the tool, seen in Fig. 3.2, warrants atten-

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Fig. 3.2  Measuring tool used to check workers’ pace

tion as a mechanism intended to coerce workers to increase their speed and exertion,  which increases the likelihood of injury, despite the self-­ motivation that the wage system already creates. At the end of the workday, the buses return the workers to the pick-up points, and following their walk home, the ambience at the dwellings becomes quite lively as music is played—generally reggae, which is popular among Maranhenses. The workers take turns showering; in one tenement that housed 30 people, there was only one shower. They or their partners wash their work clothes, putting them out to dry for use the next day. Dinner is prepared, and although there are individual dwellings and separate families, the strong sense of community gives the impression that the space is occupied by a single, extended family. In the tenement mentioned above, and pictured in Fig. 3.3, 30 people were housed in 12 units, sharing one bathroom, one washtub, one clothesline, and even one stroller for the children in the area. There was also an impression that the survival of these migrant workers largely depended on these communities that they surrounded themselves

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Fig. 3.3  Shared space of workers’ rented dwelling

with, both in terms of their ability to secure employment, housing, and sustenance, and in terms of their well-being. Single men and parents whose children were with them in Guariba particularly emphasized their need for others around them to share household and child care responsibilities. I did not interview any women who had traveled to the area without partners, but they would presumably have a similar need for community. One mother who was lamenting her loss of wages because she had to stay home with a sick child also expressed her gratitude toward another mother who took care of her child on a daily basis. The child’s illness prompted her to stay home and care for him herself while her partner continued to work. Although all of the interview participants lived in rented rooms, I had the opportunity to visit a different type of dwelling on a usina outside of the city of Campos dos Goytacazes. In this context, the workers shared a space that resembled barracks, which was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped by barbed wire. Here, the workers slept on bunk beds in a cramped

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dormitory that was hot and dark. They complained that the living conditions were miserable, the food was inadequate, and they felt trapped there, set aside from family and friends, as the dwelling was located in the middle of the cane fields. Given the distance of the barracks from the main road and the fact that the workers had no transportation of their own, they were dependent on the usina’s transportation to take them to work and were otherwise isolated from the surrounding community. The interview participants were familiar with this type of arrangement, and although the conditions in the tenements were almost as deplorable as the barracks, migrant workers tend to deliberately avoid the latter because they recognize their need for both the freedom and the community that private living arrangements afford. With the exception of short breaks to drink water or to relieve themselves, or a longer break for lunch, workers spend the greater part of the day trying to cut as much sugarcane as they can, as rapidly as they can, in order to maximize their income. Despite layers of protective clothing that is worn to shield their skin from the sun and their limbs from injury including scratches from the thick burnt outer layers of the sugarcane, accidental cuts frequently occur in the fields. Figure 3.4 illustrates the type of clothing that sugarcane cutters typically wear in the field. In addition to the layers of clothing, the workers at the usina where the photo in Fig. 3.4 was taken all wore shin protectors to prevent accidental injury from the sharp machetes. Shin guards are among the legislative accomplishments of the workers’ demands for better conditions; they are legally entitled to this form of protective equipment (Rosendo and Matos 2017). Based on the way the workers hold the stalks of sugarcane and slash them, the shins are particularly vulnerable. The continuation of the process of manual sugarcane harvesting under suboptimal conditions is dependent on the persistence of regional inequality in Brazil. Interview respondents consistently indicated that their ­socioeconomic conditions improved as a result of their employment in Guariba, as they were able to support themselves and send money home to dependents. However, their socioeconomic mobility appears to be as seasonal as their geographic mobility, and the annual return to the cane fields that is typical among the majority of this workforce indicates a lack of sustainable change in their condition. I asked Bruna,1 a 43-year-old woman who is a seasonal sugarcane cutter, if she planned to return to 1

 Pseudonym.

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Fig. 3.4  Manual sugarcane harvester in protective clothing

Guariba the following year. Without hesitating, she responded, “com certeza.” Her response, “definitely,” suggested that she anticipated having ongoing need for the seasonal work that required her to travel far from her hometown. Bruna lived in a tenement with 18 members of her extended family, who also worked in the agricultural fields of São Paulo; the younger family members, including Bruna’s son, worked in peanut cultivation, while Bruna, her husband, and his sister worked in the sugarcane industry. Despite her enthusiastic, affirmative response to my question, Bruna also stated that she would prefer to remain in Maranhão if she could find a job there. However, employment in Maranhão is scarce and when they returned to Maranhão at the end of the sugarcane harvesting season, she and her husband earned very little as street vendors. They were able to

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sustain themselves on the income they earned from selling confectionaries on the streets, but it was not enough to save or help family members, which they could do with their sugarcane harvesting income. Bruna’s son, João, was especially vocal in his opposition to working in the sugarcane industry. He was adamant that manual sugarcane harvesting was more difficult than other types of agricultural labor including peanut and citrus cultivation and harvesting, which other members of the household worked in. His parents discouraged him from working in the sugarcane industry and he insisted that he would never do so, despite the higher wages. Bruna’s opposition to her son working in the sugarcane industry was based on both her perception that it would be bad for his health and safety and her, her husband, and her sister-in-law’s experiences with illness and injury owing to their work in the sugarcane fields.

Health During the harvesting season, the daily lives of sugarcane cutters are characterized by long hours in the sun, intense heat, and exposure to a wide range of health hazards. While the physical problems dominate health concerns, Priuli et  al. (2014) also observed that stress exposes migrant sugarcane workers to even more health vulnerabilities. The main physical health risks include prolonged sun exposure without shade in high temperatures; dehydration; exhaustion from the hours of repetitive and physically challenging work, which sometimes leads to musculoskeletal disorders, as manual sugarcane harvesters are estimated to bend their backs approximately 4000 times during an 8-hour work shift, making roughly 3800 machete strikes in the process (Barbosa et al. 2012). Barbosa et al. (2012: 2) assert that “sugarcane work during the harvesting period exposes workers to higher levels of particulate matter, thermal overload, and intense physical exertion, including muscle lesion, changes in blood coagulation and in heart rate variability, systemic oxidative stress, and high blood pressure.” Injuries arise from the rapid slashing of sugarcane with sharp machetes. Hernias from lifting the heavy loads of cut cane are also common; even though there is machinery that is designed to lift the cut cane from the ground onto the trucks, the workers still need to move the cane that they cut into rows that the machines can access, which requires recurrent lifting of long, heavy stalks of sugarcane throughout the day. Although the cane fields are burned prior to harvesting, bites from venomous animals in the fields are not uncommon. Chronic and acute respi-

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ratory illnesses that result from the inhalation of soot and particles produced by the burning of sugarcane are also pervasive. Kidney disease is another common ailment among sugarcane workers in Brazil and other parts of Latin America. Among the suspected causes is the highly polluted drinking water that sugarcane cutters depend on in the cane fields and neighboring communities. Although their claims are largely disputed, some workers have maintained that the drinking water that is accessible in the cane fields is contaminated with the run-off of the chemical pesticides and fertilizers that are used on the sugarcane, leading to widespread illness. While the evidence of kidney disease among migrant sugarcane workers in Guariba is anecdotal, given that only two of the workers interviewed for this study shared that they had experienced kidney disease, several others expressed their trepidation over the possibility of developing kidney disease over time, illustrating widespread awareness of the potential for this particular health challenge in sugarcane labor. Much of the scholarship on kidney disease among sugarcane workers has been done in Central America, particularly Nicaragua and El Salvador, and has focused on chronic kidney disease. However, observing the parallels between working conditions among sugarcane workers in Central America and Brazil, Santos et al. (2015) completed a small study of 28 healthy, non-smoking, non-alcoholic sugarcane workers in Brazil and underscored the acute effects of harvesting burnt sugarcane. They collected blood and urine samples from the participants at the beginning and end of the harvest season and before and after a workday spent harvesting sugarcane. Santos et  al. concluded that “burnt sugarcane harvesting caused acute renal dysfunction in previously healthy workers,” resulting from prolonged periods of physical overexertion in an unhealthy environment (Santos et al. 2015: 792, 798). They also suggested the possibility that toxic substances found in the burnt sugarcane had a role in the acute kidney dysfunction. While there may be merit to these hypotheses regarding the reasons for the prevalence of kidney disease among sugarcane workers, there is growing consensus that there are multiple causes that are related to the working conditions that sugarcane harvesters endure. The extreme physical exertion that characterizes the occupation, compounded by high temperatures and persistent dehydration produces the forms of kidney disease that are evident among workers in Latin America, Africa, and Asia (Wegman et al. 2018; Ekiti et al. 2018; Wesseling et al. 2016). That the average life expectancy of a sugarcane cutter is 12  years lower than that of the general Brazilian population (Kaup 2015: 243) is indicative of the dire health consequences of the occupation’s demands.

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Pre-Harvest Burning of Sugarcane In Brazil, there has been a long-standing practice of burning sugarcane briefly before it is cut in order to remove the grass that surrounds the cane stalks, enabling workers to cut the cane more rapidly. This burning is done in such a way that it removes the leaves and outer foliage without ­damaging the sugarcane stalks, and the burnt grass can enrich the soil. The burning also reduces the population of snakes, scorpions, and pests, some of which pose a risk to cane cutters. However, the burning of the sugarcane contributes significantly to air pollution and respiratory illnesses among the populations in sugarcane-growing regions, as it generates large amounts of particulate matter, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, sulfur oxides, and methane (Barbosa et al. 2012). From the residential areas of Guariba and surrounding towns, plumes of smoke are visible rising from the nearby sugarcane fields, as shown in Fig. 3.5. Silva and Martins (2010) similarly observed that between April and November, clouds of smoke

Fig. 3.5  Sugarcane burning on the outskirts of town

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emanating from burning sugarcane fields obscure the sky in sugarcane areas. This smoke is destructive to both the natural environment and the health of the people who live in surrounding areas. Children and the elderly are particularly vulnerable to respiratory ailments that are triggered by the pre-harvest burning of sugarcane (Nicolella and Belluzzo 2014; Uriarte et  al. 2009). Uriarte et  al. found that for municipalities in which more than 50 percent of the land is allocated to sugarcane cultivation, up to 38 percent of infant respiratory illnesses are attributable to current or chronic exposure to the burning of sugarcane (Uriarte et al. 2009: 52). Although there has been substantive research on the health risks involved in sugarcane labor, the most significant stimulus for changes to the harvesting process resulted from the demands of residents of the sugarcane-growing regions. The permanent residents of rural São Paulo experienced some of the destructive health and environmental effects of pre-harvest burning, while seeing none of the benefits, as they do not tend to work as harvesters. The health effects of sugarcane burning are evident in the abnormally high rates of respiratory illnesses, and in more obvious but less scientifically valid indications such as the pervasiveness of black soot on clothing, furniture, and walls. The frustration of the resident population was also evident in their lobbying for anti-burning legislation, and in subtler forms of protest such as bumper stickers with statements that can be translated as, “stop the burning/we want to breathe,” an admonishment to the local government. The legislation against burning is the result of the combined, cooperative efforts of labor movements and local residents, who had the shared goal of eliminating the pre-harvest burning (Kaup 2015; Welch 2006). In September 2002, São Paulo state law 11.241 was enacted to mandate an end to pre-harvest burning in the state by 2021 in the areas with less than 12 percent incline and by 2031 in the areas with greater than 12 percent incline (Lei Estadual No. 11.241, de 19 de setembro de 2002). The areas with an incline of greater than 12 percent are not feasible for mechanization, but areas with an incline of less than 12 percent and a plot size larger than 150 hectares are deemed to be suitable for mechanization (Kaup 2015; Andrade and Miccolis 2011). Subsequently, the Protocolo Ambiental, also known as the Green Ethanol Protocol, was established to expedite the end of the practice of burning sugarcane. The Protocol encouraged the termination of pre-harvest burning in mechanized areas by 2014 and in non-mechanized areas by 2017 (http:// www.unica.com.br/green-protocol/). There has been evidence of viola-

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tions of the law banning the pre-harvest burning of sugarcane, and some mills have been cited for “irregular cane burning” (Jesus et al. 2016). Still, the enactment of the state law and the protocol represent a victory over a practice that had shown evidence of producing adverse health effects. França et al. (2014: 450) observed a 34 percent reduction in carbon dioxide emissions despite an increase in both sugarcane production and total harvest between 2006 and 2011, suggesting that the laws against cane burning have been effective in improving air quality in the sugarcane regions of São Paulo. Nicolella and Belluzzo (2014) found that the pre-­ harvest burning of sugarcane had a significant, negative effect on air quality in comparison to vehicle and industrial pollution. Based on a study of the effect of sugarcane burning on respiratory health, they concluded that the reduction of sugarcane burning that was brought about by the São Paulo state law 11.241 and the Green Ethanol Protocol helped to moderate the rate of hospitalization due to respiratory illnesses in the state of São Paulo (Nicolella and Belluzzo 2011: 13; 2014: 138–9).

Mechanization The transition from manual to mechanical sugarcane harvesting has been made inevitable by legislative decisions that restrict pre-harvest burning. Between 2008 and 2013, Brazil’s sugarcane industry transitioned from almost 80 percent manual harvesting to over 80 percent mechanized harvesting (Kaup 2015; Uriarte et al. 2009). Pre-harvest burning facilitates the manual harvesting of sugarcane; while it is beneficial for mechanical harvesting, it is not required. It is much more difficult to cut crude cane than it is to cut burned cane; a senior expert from Companhia Nacional de Abastecimento (CONAB) insists that it takes about the same time for a manual cane cutter to harvest 2–3 tons of crude cane, as it would to cut 8–9 tons of burned cane (Kaup 2015: 101). Mechanical harvesting is consequently considered to be a solution to the problems caused by burning, and the process has gained rapid popularity in the twenty-first century, particularly because of improvements in the technology. In the early years of their use, mechanical harvesters were too costly for many producers. Furthermore, while the machinery was used for harvesting, human labor was still needed for planting, which posed an economic challenge to producers, who found it infeasible to hire a labor force only for planting (Kaup 2015: 102). The combined effects of increased labor prices, which made the cost of the mechanical harvesters comparatively more feasible,

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and technological advances, which enabled mechanical planting, resulted in widespread use of machinery and the consequent displacement of workers. The increased prevalence of mechanized harvesting was accelerated by the anti-burning legislation, but was made sustainable by the positive outcomes of this transformation of the industry. For example, the fiber that remains after the sugarcane juice is extracted by crushing the stalks is used to generate electricity. Using mechanized harvesters without pre-harvest burning retains more of the fiber, thereby allowing producers to benefit from the greater electricity generation. Furthermore, the grass that is usually burned prior to manual harvesting (known as palha or cane trash) can also be used to generate energy (Kaup 2015: 105). The palha that is left behind during mechanized harvesting also serves as a form of protection for the soil, as it adds both humidity and carbon accumulation (Kaup 2015: 105). While the transition to mechanized harvesting allowed for the desired result of significantly reducing burning and consequently improving environmental conditions and the respiratory health of those in the vicinity, it is not without social costs. Each mechanical harvester replaces between 80 and 120 workers (Kaup 2015: 102; Welch 2006: 46). As sugarcane harvesting approaches 100 percent mechanization, scholars estimate the number of jobs lost to be between 190,000 and 300,000. Although an estimated 45,000 new jobs have been created to support mechanization, as workers are required to operate the mechanical harvesters, it is unclear whether these workers are recruited from among the former manual harvesters, as the machine operation requires a different level of training and skills than manual harvesting (Kaup 2015: 108; Uriarte et  al. 2009). Scholars and activists then find themselves in a moral dilemma, as many of them have advocated for an end to the pre-harvest burning of sugarcane due to the environmental and health consequences. Moreover, it is well documented that the working conditions of manual sugarcane harvesters have been appalling and do not appear to have improved substantively since the days of slavery, as demands for greater speed and efficiency of the workers have grown. One participant in Kaup’s study remarked that the average period of time that a manual sugarcane harvester can work before being physically incapable is 12  years; during slavery the average was 15 years (Kaup 2015: 109), suggesting that conditions may have actually deteriorated. Still, the loss of employment was not the intended outcome, and workers who most likely entered the sugarcane industry because of

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the lack of alternative options became sugarcane cutters, as the limited education, skills, and training available to them restricted them to this type of work. The social consequence of the transition to mechanization is the loss of employment among an especially vulnerable population. In addition to the social costs of mechanization, there are other potential downsides. The heavy weight of mechanical harvesters can cause soil compaction, especially if harvesting takes place during rain. Further, mechanical harvesters require expanses of fairly flat land and this promotes monocrop agriculture. As was the case during the Green Revolution of the mid-twentieth century, the transition to mechanization has the adverse side-effect of further marginalizing producers whose land is too small to accommodate the machinery and those who are unable to afford the high cost of mechanical harvesters. As Kaup surmises, “apart from causing unemployment of field workers, mechanization leads to the exclusion from the industry of smaller, less capitalized companies and farmers. Ultimately this might lead to ‘land grabbing’ effects when transnational companies and conglomerates end up purchasing or leasing the land” (Kaup 2015: 112). Mechanization only produces positive net results if the sugarcane is not burned prior to harvesting, which some producers continue to do illegally for speed and efficiency. Kaup (2015) cautions against the expansion of agribusiness and large-scale, monocrop agriculture that mechanization facilitates, as this type of agricultural expansion does not contribute to rural development, but rather generates unemployment by eroding small farms and family businesses. The dilemma continues, then, with a contemplation of whose interests these costs and benefits serve. Mechanization both helps and hurts the migrant workers who used to cut sugarcane and who have experienced the loss of their livelihoods as a result of the transition. There was consensus among a range of actors that the pre-harvest burning of sugarcane was unsustainable. Workers and members of local communities were vulnerable to the adverse effects of sugarcane burning on their health, so they lobbied for an end to the process. International awareness of the environmental repercussions of burning cane fields, particularly greenhouse gas emissions, generated pressure from outside of Brazil to end the practice. For the producers, as labor costs increased and machinery became more efficient and cost-effective, mechanization became a more attractive option. However, it is the manual harvesters, or those who previously occupied those positions, who now suffer the loss of employment, which they probably had not anticipated as they fought for working conditions that would not jeop-

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ardize their health. Welch (2006: 46) argues, “Ironically, agro-industry representatives attribute investment in mechanization to the success of the labor movement.” It is indeed ironic, and despite the unintended outcome of unemployment, the workers’ ability to mobilize for changes in their working conditions attests to the power that they are capable of wielding through organized, collective, and collaborative efforts.

Activism Among Sugarcane Workers Sugarcane workers have attained some legislative measures intended to improve their conditions. First, the Rural Worker Statute or Estatuto do Trabalhador Rural (ETR) was passed in 1963 under the governance of President João Goulart. This statute extended to rural workers the labor rights that urban workers already enjoyed, such as worker registration cards, health care benefits, social security, and a minimum salary (Dabat and Rogers 2017: 218; Eaglin 2015). However, the most impactful changes were realized through their own struggles. Sugarcane workers’ capacity to mobilize for change was most evident in the labor strikes of the late twentieth century, which produced the most salient improvements in their working conditions. Most notably, over 5000 sugarcane workers went on strike in Guariba in May 1984 to protest against their deplorable working conditions, extended work days, and meager wages. Eaglin (2015) underscores the irony of sugarcane workers’ exclusion from the development discourse surrounding sugarcane and ethanol production despite the critical role that they have played in the industry’s growth and sustainability, as they have been the primary sources of labor. Further, she argues that the mobilization of the sugarcane workers and their vocal opposition to their harsh working conditions have exposed the brutality of the industry, while increased public awareness of the plight of workers challenged the idea that ethanol was a sustainable alternative to fossil fuels. Working conditions for manual sugarcane harvesters had long been abysmal, improving only minimally since the days when the industry relied on enslaved labor. However, in 1984, working conditions deteriorated even further as usineiros changed the harvesting requirement from the standard five rows and instead instituted a policy that workers must cut seven rows. Further, they moved the collection point for the cut sugarcane farther away in order to avoid bringing the heavy machinery closer to the cane rows, thereby requiring that workers walk an additional three meters (ten  feet) while carrying heavy bundles of cane. Although the workers

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were already mobilized and agitated by the combination of their low wages and inhumane working conditions, these requirements that were instituted during the 1984 harvest proved to be the catalyst that incited the strike (Eaglin 2015; Welch 1999). With picket lines, the workers blocked roads that could access Guariba, which prevented the labor recruiters from bringing in new workers to replace the strikers. Others marched to the city’s main square. Striking workers attacked the local water supply agency and burned down its main office, which contained records of the extortionate debts that they were said to owe. For similar reasons, they targeted a grocery store, at which point the military police intervened, killing a retired sugarcane worker and injuring at least 29 others (Eaglin 2015: 249; Welch 1999: 351). The strikers retaliated by injuring police officers with rocks and killing a police attack dog that had been let loose on them (Welch 1999: 351), demonstrating the intensity of their anger and frustration regarding their working conditions. As the strike spread to the neighboring cities of Barrinha and Monte Alto, more workers joined the collective action and the conflict intensified as they burned cane fields, destroying crops that were ready for harvest, and in doing so preventing the usineiros from prolonging negotiations. By the third day of the strike, the usineiros agreed to repeal the seven-row policy, developing a labor agreement with the workers known as the Guariba Accord. The Guariba Accord stipulated concessions to several of the strikers’ demands, including, a return to the five-row system; an increased established price of cane set to Cr$2,100 per ton; employer provided supply of work tools, protection gear like gloves and leather leg guards; free transportation to work; guaranteed worker registration and all the benefits and labor rights that accompany registration. (Eaglin 2015: 254)

Given the poor working conditions that persisted into the twenty-first century for sugarcane workers, the accomplishments of the strikes may appear minimal; however, there were both material and symbolic accomplishments as well as increased recognition (Veronezzi 2015). Besides demands related to wages and working conditions, the seasonal migrant workers wanted the same recognition as their peers—as rural workers. Existing legislation identified rural workers who were eligible for unionization as those who worked full time throughout the year rather than seasonally, effectively marginalizing the seasonal workers, preventing them

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from participating in collective action through unionization, and creating divisions among agricultural workers. Some scholars have observed that labor unions were not particularly sensitive to the racial discrimination that workers from the northeast tend to experience (Bento 1999: 119). Still, workers demanded their equal rights as citizens to join and participate in these unions. Although Welch (1999) argues that the proverbial seeds of the contemporary labor movement were planted earlier in the twentieth century, particularly during similar strikes that took place in 1962, the 1984 strike involved a majority of seasonal migrant workers and demonstrated both their solidarity with other rural workers and the agency that they seized over their conditions.

Wages and Socioeconomic Mobility The wage structure for sugarcane harvesters is typically based on the weight of the sugarcane that they cut rather than on the time that they put into their work. Rosendo and Matos (2017) argue that this form of payment works in favor of the owners and to the disadvantage of the workers, as workers are forced to compete with each other, thereby expending more physical labor at no additional cost to the owners. As they put it, this wage structure reinforces the differences in skill, strength, energy, perseverance of the individual workers, causing differences in their incomes and the establishment of competition between them. This competition stimulates the increase of the intensity of the work and, consequently, of the productivity. (Rosendo and Matos 2017: 122)

Besides the greater availability of jobs in São Paulo in contrast to Maranhão, a major incentive for north-south migration is that wages are considerably higher in the south. Wages for manual sugarcane harvesters are about 30 percent lower in the northeast than the national average, while in the state of São Paulo, they are about 50 percent higher than the national average (Amann et al. 2011). Job availability and higher wages were the only two reasons that migrant workers participating in this study gave for their decision to migrate. The socioeconomic advancement that their seasonal migration afforded them was a source of pride within their families. Not only were they able to send money to relatives at home but working in the south was also considered a symbol of upward socioeconomic mobility. Despite the modest nature of the dwellings where they stay in Guariba

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during the harvest season, they viewed their rented homes positively, as several participants remarked in response to my questions about their level of satisfaction with their accommodations, that in Maranhão they lived in homes with dirt floors and thatched roofs, so the tenements were an improvement. Although they expressed frustration about the working conditions and discrimination, the actual and potential upward socioeconomic mobility that they envisioned and, in many cases, realized in their occupations in the south motivated them to continue to migrate there year after year. Their awareness that if they could secure similar work in the northeast, they would be paid a fraction of the salary further enhanced their feeling of gratitude and accomplishment for the opportunity to migrate to the south.

Social Networks and Recruitment Within the sugarcane industry, the division of labor is well defined. Managers, overseers, machine operators, and cane cutters all have demarcated positions and accompanying benefits. Cane cutters, the majority of whom are seasonal migrants from the northeast, are at the bottom of the skill, employment, and wage hierarchy. Furthermore, their work poses the greatest hazards to their health and safety. Wendy Wolford’s perspective on the labor structure of slave-era sugar plantations suggests parallels between that period and the contemporary labor structure: To run the plantation, the owners depended on a limited number of employees who understood the complicated machinery and administrative issues. The majority of the tasks, however, required relatively little skill and ­tremendous exertion. These conditions served to segment the labor force into two distinct groups: skilled and unskilled. Because the plantations relied heavily on slaves imported from the African continent, labor segmentation was color-coded from the outset. (Wolford 2004: 151)

Contemporary migrant sugarcane workers are generally recruited from northeastern cities by empreiteiros, or middlemen who are often from the same region as the workers. Some scholars argue that the role of these empreiteiros is an essential element of the process of seasonal labor migration (Rezende and Kreter 2001). The empreiteiros, they argue, serve the sugarcane industry by securing cheap labor, while simultaneously serving the workers by securing employment for them, and in some cases transportation and housing as well. Other scholars, however, argue that these

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empreiteiros exacerbate the exploitation that migrant sugarcane workers already face (Coslovsky and Locke 2013). According to this perspective, empreiteiros ultimately work for the sugarcane plantations and consequently serve their interests. As such, they deceive workers with false promises of higher wages and comfortable living and working conditions. The acts of deception that commonly characterize empreiteiros have earned them the pejorative yet generally used moniker gatos, or cats. Empreiteiros are considered deceptive because their dual loyalties to both the plantation owners and the workers represent a lack of loyalty to either group. What many find to be particularly misanthropic about empreiteiros and the role that they play in negotiating the relationship between the employers and employees of the sugar plantations is their affiliation with the workers. Because empreiteiros are often from the same region as the workers, and in some cases share community or kinship ties with the workers, workers assume that the empreiteiros are part of their support network, and there is consequently a great degree of trust. Even so, the role of these middleman recruiters is essential in helping migrants make a better-informed decision regarding migration and the destination. Menezes et al. emphasize the “double face” nature of the social networks in which recruiters and workers are embedded, as they argue that “on the one hand, they make possible the strategies of mill domination over the migrant workers and the interchangeability in work tasks, such as from cane cutter to inspector, or production assessor; on the other hand, they establish or support mutual assistance practices during the period they are away from their families” (Menezes et al. 2012). Another central role that empreiteiros play, which Menezes et  al. consider to be among the ­“mechanisms of domination and control” of migrant workers by their employers, is the screening of potential workers in an effort to reduce the likelihood of strikes or other forms of activism on the part of the labor force. This places the empreiteiros in a gatekeeping position and makes it difficult for workers to bypass them. In order to maintain the low wages and poor working conditions, employers favor more compliant workers and rely on the empreiteiros to recruit on this basis. While many of the workers rely on empreiteiros, particularly those who are new to the seasonal labor cycle and lack the network that they need to secure employment and affordable housing, sugarcane workers are increasingly cognizant of the duplicitous, untrustworthy nature of these middlemen. In fact, one of the failed demands that workers made during the 1962 strike was the elimination of the empreiteiros (Welch 1999: 356).

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Conclusion Among the main problems that migrant sugarcane workers in Brazil face are the overarching challenges of their poor working conditions. These concerns are comparable with those of international labor migrants, many of whom also live in squalid and crowded temporary housing. Migrant sugarcane cutters interviewed in Guariba expressed several problems with their work environment, primarily concerning excessive working hours, strenuous physical labor, and exposure to harsh environmental conditions. Furthermore, workers face frequent injuries that stem from the increasingly rapid and pressured slashing of the cane with machetes. As Brazil’s sugarcane industry transitions toward the elimination of pre-harvest burning and the replacement of workers with mechanized harvesters, different social problems have arisen. The mechanization of manual sugarcane harvesting moves the industry into the twenty-first century, but in doing so sacrifices the employment of a vulnerable population that has limited formal education, a long history of intergenerational poverty, and permanent residence in a region that has limited resources. As the inevitable shift occurs, sugarcane workers and former sugarcane workers are forced to consider alternatives. Continuing to forge livelihoods as migrant agricultural workers in other fields such as orange and peanut cultivation may be an option for some. For others, they may harness the power of collective action to develop the skills needed to continue working in the sugarcane industry as machine operators. Still others may find that agricultural work is no longer a feasible livelihood strategy and may seek to advance their education and training in order to enter other fields. Beto, a 19-year-old interviewee, held such aspirations, as he used the one day off he had each week to participate in a computer literacy program, declaring that he would not be back in the cane fields for another harvest.

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Goza, Franklin, Eduardo Rios-Neto, and Donald McQuarie. 1997. The Labor Process among Temporary Workers in the São Paulo Sugar Industry. Critical Sociology 23 (3): 33–63. Hugo, V. 2007. Brazilian Cane Cutter Died from Working 70 Days Without Break. https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2007/06/cane-j02.html Jesus, Deberson F., Olivier Genevieve, and Ben Richardson. 2016. Violations of Labour and Environmental Law by Sugarcane Mills in São Paulo State, Brazil. Ethical Sugar, May. https://warwick.ac.uk/fac/soc/pais/people/richardson/ publications/ethical_sugar_-_violations_of_labour_and_environmental_law_ by_sugarcane_mills_in_sao_paulo.pdf. Accessed 15 Aug 2019. Jones, Terry-Ann. 2009. Migration Theory in the Domestic Context: North-­ South Labor Movement in Brazil. Human Architecture: Journal of the Sociology of Self-Knowledge VII (4): 5–14. Kaup, Felix. 2015. The Sugarcane Complex in Brazil: The Role of Innovation in a Dynamic Sector on Its Path Towards Sustainability. London: Springer. Luz, Verônica Gronau, Heleno Rodrigues Corrêa Filho, Alessandro José Nunes da Silva, Erivelton Fontana de Laat, Rodolfo Andrade de Gouveia Vilela, Fernando Oliveira Catanho da Silva, and Lia Thieme Oikawa Zangirolani. 2012. Migrant Labor and Wear-out in Manual Sugar Cane Harvesting in São Paulo, Brazil. Ciencia & Saude Coletiva 17 (10): 2831–2840. Martine, George R. 1971. Internal Migration in Brazil, 1890–1970. Naciones Unidas Comisión Económica Para América Latina y el Caribe (CEPAL). Martinelli, Luiz A., and Solange Filoso. 2008. Expansion of Sugarcane Ethanol Production in Brazil: Environmental and Social Challenges. Ecological Applications 18 (4): 885–898. Menezes, Marilda Aparecida de, Marcelo Saturnino da Silva, and Maciel Cover. 2012. Migrant Workers in Sugarcane Mills: A Study of Social Networks and Recruitment Intermediaries in Brazil. Agrarian South: Journal of Political Economy 1 (2): 161–180. Mintz, Sidney W. 1985. Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History. New York: Viking. Moraes, Marcia Azanha Ferraz Dias de. 2011. Determinants of the Income of Workers in Sugar Cane Plantations and in the Sugar and Ethanol Industries in the North-Northeast and Center-South Regions of Brazil. In Energy, Bio Fuels and Development: Comparing Brazil and the United States, ed. Edmund Amann, Werner Baer, and Donald V. Coes. New York: Routledge. Nicolella, Alexandre C., and Walter Belluzzo. 2011. Impact of Reducing the Pre-­ Harvest Burning of Sugar-Cane Area on Respiratory Health in Brazil. Paper Presented at the Anais Do XXXVIII Encontro Nacional de Economia. Proceedings of the 38th Brazilian Economics Meeting. Nicolella, Alexandre, and Walter Belluzzo. 2014. The Effect of Reducing the Pre-­ Harvest Burning of Sugar Cane on Respiratory Health in Brazil. Environment and Development Economics 20 (1): 127–140.

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Ortiz, Sutti. 2002. Laboring in the Factories and in the Fields. Annual Review of Anthropology 31: 395–417. Pereira, Anthony W. 1992. Agrarian Reform and the Rural Workers’ Unions of the Pernambuco Sugar Zone, Brazil 1985–1988. The Journal of Developing Areas 26 (2): 169–192. Priuli, Roseana Mara Aredes, Maria Silvia de Moraes, and Rafael Morais Chiaravalloti. 2014. The Impact of Stress on the Health of Sugar Cane Cutters. Revista de Saude Publica 48 (2): 225–231. Rezende, Gervásio Castro de, and Ana Cecília Kreter. 2001. Agricultural Labor Legislation and Poverty in Brazil: A Transaction Costs Approach. Rev. de Economia Agrícola, São Paulo 54 (2): 121–137. Rocha, Fernanda Ludmilla Rossi, Maria Helena Palucci Marziale, and Oi-Saeng Hong. 2010. Work and Health Conditions of Sugar Cane Workers in Brazil. Revista da Escola de Enfermagem da USP 44 (4): 978–983. Rosendo, Jussara dos Santos, and Patrícia Francisca de Matos. 2017. Social Impacts with the End of the Manual Sugarcane Harvest: A Case Study in Brazil. Sociology International Journal 1 (4): 121–125. Rout, Leslie. 1976. Race and Slavery in Brazil. The Wilson Quarterly 1 (1): 73–89. Saint, William S. 1981. The Wages of Modernization: A Review of the Literature on Temporary Labor Arrangements in Brazilian Agriculture. Latin American Research Review 16 (3): 91–110. Santos, Paula Ubiratan, Dirce Maria T. Zanetta, Mário Terra-Filho, and Emmanuel A.  Burdmann. 2015. Burnt Sugarcane Harvesting is Associated with Acute Renal Dysfunction. Kidney International 87 (4): 792–799. Silva, Maria Aparecida de Moraes, and Rodrigo Constante Martins. 2010. A degradacão social do trabalho e da natureza no contexto da monocultura canavieira paulista. Sociologias 12 (24): 196–240. Uriarte, María, Charles B.  Yackulic, Tamar Cooper, Dan Flynn, Marina Cortes, Tanja Crk, Georgina Cullman, Meghan Mcginty, and Jason Sircely. 2009. Expansion of Sugarcane Production in São Paulo, Brazil: Implications for Fire Occurrence and Respiratory Health. Agriculture, Ecosystems and Environment 132 (1–2): 48–56. Van Rompaey, Karen. 2008. The Political Economy of Agrofuels and the Contested Meaning of Sustainable Development. Unpublished Master’s Thesis. Veronezzi, Fernando. 2015. Claims of Rural Workers Employed Sugarcane Plantation: The Strike in Guariba of 1984 and the Struggle for Land Within the State of São Paulo/as reivindicacoes dos trabalhadores rurais assalariados da lavoura canavieira: a greve de guariba de 1984 e a luta por terra no interior do estado de sao paulo. Geo Uerj 26. https://doi.org/10.12957/ geouerj.2015.8252.

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Wegman, David H., Jenny Apelqvist, Matteo Bottai, Ulf Ekström, Ramón García-­ Trabanino, Jason Glaser, Christer Hogstedt, Kristina Jakobbson, Emmanuel Jarquín, Rebekah A.I.  Lucas, Ilana Weiss, Cathatina Wesseling, Theo Bodin, et al. 2018. Intervention to Diminish Dehydration and Kidney Damage Among Sugarcane Workers. Scandinavian Journal of Work, Environment & Health 44 (1): 16–24. Welch, Cliff. 1999. The Seed Was Planted: The São Paulo Roots of Brazil’s Rural Labor Movement, 1924–1964. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. ———. 2006. Globalization and the Transformation of Work in Rural Brazil: Agribusiness, Rural Labor Unions, and Peasant Mobilization. International Labor and Working-Class History 70, Globalization and the Latin-American Workplace: 35–60. Wesseling, Catharina, Aurora Aragón, Marvin González, Ilana Weiss, Jason Glaser, Norma A. Bobadilla, Carlos Roncal-Jiménez, Ricardo Correa-Rotter, Richard J. Johnson, and Lars Barregard. 2016. Kidney Function in Sugarcane Cutters in Nicaragua  – A Longitudinal Study of Workers at Risk of Mesoamerican Nephropathy. Environmental Research 147 (May): 125–132. Wolford, Wendy. 2004. Of Land and Labor: Agrarian Reform on the Sugarcane Plantations of Northeast Brazil. Latin American Perspectives 31 (2): 147–170.

CHAPTER 4

The Outsider Status of Internal Migrants

Abstract  This chapter interrogates shared nationality and citizenship among Brazilians and examines the tensions between migrant workers and the residents of the host communities. Seasonal migrants generally live in isolated communities and are not integrated into the towns in which they temporarily reside, a factor that contributes to their marginalization. There is sometimes resentment on the part of the local communities against the migrants who arrive during the harvest season, who are seen as an economic and social threat. Migrant workers face discrimination and criminalization, and while discrimination against fellow citizens is not unique to Brazil, the complexities of the tensions between seasonal migrants and permanent residents transcend explanations that are based solely on race or socioeconomic class. The chapter highlights the intersections of multiple factors that contribute to these divisions among citizens. Keywords  Race • Racism • Discrimination • Identity • Citizenship • Xenophobia

Introduction The diversity of Brazil’s population reflects the complexity of the country’s history. While some members of the decimated indigenous population maintained their culture in relatively isolated communities, others integrated with Portuguese colonizers—sometimes against their will—producing the © The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2_4

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mixed race or mestizo population. Besides the indigenous and mestizo populations, the descendants of Europeans, Asians, and the largest population of people of African descent outside of Africa contribute to Brazil’s contemporary diversity. Furthermore, the long history of miscegenation has produced a society in which racial lines are blurred and skin color, hair texture, and other common symbols of racial classification can have ambiguous meanings. Generally speaking, the darker-skinned, Afro-descendant population tends to concentrate in the northeast, where their African ancestors initially arrived enslaved and were forced to work on sugarcane plantations. While mobility—both pre- and post-­emancipation—has resulted in the presence of different races throughout the country, the northeast still tends to have the highest concentration of people of African descent, while the south is abundant in communities where residents can trace their lineage to European countries such as Portugal, Spain, Italy, and Germany. Seasonal migrant sugarcane workers experience discrimination in the sugarcane regions of the south where they temporarily reside, contradicting the much-touted perception of Brazil as a racially harmonious society in which miscegenation has eliminated racial prejudice. This chapter discusses the discrimination that migrant sugarcane workers encounter in southern Brazil and argues that despite the absence of clear racial boundaries, they face prejudices that are rooted in the differences between the ethnic, racial, and cultural histories of the north and south of the country. Although Brazil does not adhere to US paradigms of racism or racial classifications, colorism is a ubiquitous problem that black and brown Brazilians contend with. Colorism stems from the colonial-era color hierarchy and is consequently compounded by socioeconomic class, which remains correlated to race and color. Although the northeastern migrant workers represent a range of races and colors, they generally tend to be darker-skinned than their compatriots from the south. Because of regional differences in the economic conditions of northern versus southern states, these workers tend to be defined not only by their skin tones, but also by their limited education, limited economic means, and marginalized positions as part of a seasonal, migrant labor force, and on this basis are relegated to outsider status, even within their home country.

The Myth of Racial Democracy in Brazil Several scholars have depicted Brazil as a racial democracy since the 1940s, including Arthur Ramos, Roger Bastide, and Charles Wagley, who contributed to the popularization of the term (Norman 2011). Still, the con-

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cept of racial democracy is most commonly associated with the work of Gilberto Freyre, who as early as the 1930s argued that the circumstances of Brazil’s racial pluralism had produced a society of racial equality and harmony (Bailey 2004: 728–47). Although racial democracy is often conflated with the endorsement of mestiçagem or racial mixing and the concepts are related, they are distinct. Freyre promoted miscegenation as both an indicator of the absence of racism in Brazil and a means of cultivating racial equality through the creation of a distinct national identity based on racial mixing (Sheriff 2008: 89), which would essentially whiten the population (Covin 2006: 35). The concept of Brazil as a racial democracy and the underlying assumption that it is a color-blind society, situated it in juxtaposition to countries such as the United States, which at the time—in the early to mid-twentieth century—remained in the midst of racial inequality, tension, and outright conflict. The ideology was not only widely accepted in Brazil, but was also embraced as part of the public narrative of Brazil’s reconciliation with its history of slavery and the subjugation of the black and dark-skinned population. Afro-Brazilians were far less receptive to the ideology, which was largely rejected by Afro-Brazilian scholars, but because they were excluded from the mainstream academic discourse, it was not until white Brazilian scholars recognized the limitations of the racial democracy ideology that it began to be more widely discredited (Andrews 1996: 490). By the latter part of the twentieth century, recognition of the reality of Brazil’s racial inequalities and tensions— supported by evidence of racial inequities in education, income, and occupational advances, among other indicators—undermined the once-­ popular concept and resulted in its widespread criticism. For example, in 1950, of a population of 16.5 million Afro-Brazilians, only 48,000 had graduated from high school and 4000 from college (Andrews 1996: 493), reinforcing the contention that racial democracy was aspirational at best. Further, a 2011 study by the Data Popular Institute also underscores the structurally entrenched racism that limits the upward socioeconomic mobility of the black and brown populations. The study revealed that the wealthiest class of Brazilians was 82.3 percent white and 17.7 percent African-Brazilian, while the poorest class was 76.3 percent African-­Brazilian and 23.7 percent white (Phillips 2011). Dzidzienyo (1971) argued, At present the black man’s position in Brazil can only be described as being virtually outside the main stream of society. He is almost completely unrepresented in any area involving decision-making; with relatively few excep-

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tions he is not to be seen in government, administration, business, or commerce, except at the lowest levels where manual labour is required. The only areas where he plays a significant, rather than menial, role are in football and entertainment. (Dzidzienyo 1971: 6)

Given this context, it is difficult to support the notion that Brazil is a racially egalitarian society in which black, indigenous, or darker-skinned people have similar opportunities for upward mobility as their white, lighter-skinned, or Euro-descendant compatriots. Despite the evidence of a racial hierarchy in Brazil, as recently as the late 1990s, Andrews has argued that because criticism of racial democracy tended to originate outside of Brazil and critics have remained largely in the minority, there are still members of the Brazilian elite who conveniently continue to embrace the idea of Brazilian racial exceptionalism (Andrews 1996: 487). The denial of racism that is inherent in the assumption of racial democracy has far-reaching repercussions, as it denies the existence of structural impediments to a dignified life and upward socioeconomic mobility by means of equal access to education or employment. As Guimarães (2001, 39) notes: In Brazil, denying the existence of race is interpreted as a denial of racism as a system. The recognition of the idea of race and the promotion of any anti-­ racist action based on this idea is interpreted as racism. Therefore, many manifestations of discrimination based on color are peremptorily denied as having any racial motivation. Race is invisible in Brazil; only color exists, defined by objective, concrete characteristics, independent of the idea of race.

Pervasive poverty in the northeast, which is most acute among darker-­ skinned Brazilians, is an indicator that racial equality is a myth. Further, the discrimination that migrant sugarcane workers reference as part of their experience in the south corroborates the position that structural r­ acism and racial discrimination remain the reality in Brazil. Brazil is often viewed in juxtaposition to the United States as a society that is more classist than racist; Dzidzienyo (1971) argues that this perspective excuses Brazilian racism and denies the problems of race-based discrimination, focusing instead on individuals’ socioeconomic achievements or shortcomings. The denial of racism and racial discrimination purported by the racial democracy discourse impeded progress toward anti-discrimination policies, hindered the development of positive racial identification among blacks, and ultimately constrained progress among non-white Brazilians (Bailey 2009).

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While the hierarchies of power and privilege have historically been similar in Brazil and the United States, with whites enjoying the utmost privilege, blacks the least, and those of lighter complexion falling somewhere between the two, both the terminologies and the ways in which people of mixed race identify and are identified differ markedly between the two countries. Brazil and the United States have responded differently to what Fredrickson mischievously refers to as the “anarchic nature of the human libido” (Fredrickson 1981: 94), or miscegenation. The United States has insisted on a black-white dichotomy that forces people to claim an identity, not of their choosing, but on the basis of a one-drop rule that developed in the nineteenth century and became law in most southern states in the twentieth century. Known formally as hypodescent, the one-drop rule stipulates that “anyone with a known black ancestor is considered Black” (Hickman 1997). The effect of this rule has been to impose black identity on biracial or multiracial people with black ancestry, and to place limitations on the perception of racial categories in the United States, which Perea refers to as the black/white binary paradigm of race (Perea 1997). In addition to denying mixed-race people a distinct identity, this binary also excludes those who do not fit neatly into the paradigm, such as Latinos or Asians. Khanna has similarly found that although a wider range of self-­ identity options are available to people of mixed race in the post-Civil Rights era, there is still a tendency for self-identification to be shaped by the perceptions of others (Khanna 2010). The legacy of the one-drop rule in the United States has been pervasive in determining that people of mixed race—particularly those whose phenotypes make their black ancestry evident—are perceived as black. Racial categorization in Brazil, by contrast, is quite fluid, and Dzidzienyo argues that rather than eliminating racial discrimination, the denial of racial distinctions can conceal discrimination, resulting in racism “without tension” (Dzidzienyo 1971: 14). What Dzidzienyo is referring to here is the not the absence of racial conflict, but rather the Brazilian tendency to deny systemic racism despite its pervasiveness and ignore the consequences of racial inequality, thereby preserving the status quo.

Citizenship Citizenship is a particularly complex concept in a country that, for generations, denied citizenship and its accompanying rights and privileges to the large segment of the population that the ruling class enslaved. The Afro-­

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Brazilian struggle for the rights, benefits, and access to political participation that is characteristic of citizenship has a long history. Although formerly enslaved Brazilians were granted citizenship following emancipation, those who were illiterate were denied the right to vote. Given that enslaved Brazilians were denied access to education, this policy effectively excluded the emancipated generation from the full range of rights of citizenship. Although their political engagement manifested in other ways, the initial denial of the right to vote created a social context in which blacks were and to some extent remain second-class citizens. This becomes even more perceptible when they move outside of the northeast and into the predominantly white regions of the south, as is evident among the migrant sugarcane workers in São Paulo. Despite their formal status as citizens, poverty and discrimination limit the inclusion of contemporary black, brown, and poor Brazilians. Migrant sugarcane workers in Guariba are relegated to the literal margins of society, live on the outskirts of the town, and face discrimination and exclusion by those who are deemed to belong and who are descendants of European immigrants. Inclusion by fellow citizens is perhaps even more meaningful than inclusion by the state. As Marback and Kruman (2015: 2) posit, “The relationship of citizens to the state, then, does not provide a comprehensive definition of citizenship because the potential associations citizens have with each other exceed relationships to the state.” The migrant workers interviewed for this project decry the exclusion they experience and express surprise that fellow Brazilians would perceive them as outsiders. Kivisto and Faist (2007: 16) refer to the potentially equalizing effect that citizenship can have on a population. At least in theory, citizens of a state have access to equal rights. Other scholars, however, have challenged the assumption that citizenship is experienced equally (Kymlicka and Norman 2000), as non-dominant groups such as the descendants of enslaved people remain on the margins of political power or participation. Although the migrant sugarcane workers who travel seasonally between Maranhão and Guariba are equal to the permanent residents of Guariba in their citizenship and the rights that this citizenship guarantees, their poverty and their status as migrants place them in a position of inequality. According to the migrant workers, permanent residents of the area, regardless of socioeconomic status, treat the migrant community as outsiders in terms of social interaction and property rental. While migrant workers shared examples of situations in which they experienced discrimination, even those who were not directly confronted with discrimination

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perceived a sense of otherness. In the abstract sense, migrant workers and residents shared citizenship as well as a sense of national identity; however, this shared citizenship did not translate to solidarity. Permanent residents of Guariba, too, experience exploitation at the hands of the plantation owners as some of them also labor in the usinas, though not as manual harvesters, as these most inferior positions tend to be reserved for migrant workers. Furthermore, migrant workers have mobilized in defense of their shared interests, notably during the Guariba strikes of the 1980s (Eaglin 2015). However, there are limited instances in which the migrant and local workers joined forces in opposition to the plantation owners in inclusive efforts to promote better working conditions, and I observed no sense of camaraderie between migrants and permanent residents, but rather clear divisions between the two groups. The foreignness created by the regional differences superseded shared citizenship and shared interests. The long history of the enslavement and forced labor of Africans and resistance to their emancipation continues to mar contemporary Brazilian society through persistent inequality that is most profound along racial and color lines. Contemporary inequality propagates the existing chasms in Brazilian civic engagement. Eakin (2017) describes Brazilian national identity as an imagined community, which Marx (1998) viewed as essential to the forging of a national identity. Eakin asserts that “nations are cultural constructs that make claims to a collective identity, social solidarity, and the integration of the individual into membership in the whole,” and argues that Brazilians built what he refers to as a “national cultural community” during the second half of the twentieth century (Eakin 2017: 14). However, this newfound national identity did not equate to a sense of shared citizenship or political identity. In other words, a national cultural identity was created, but failed to produce an inclusive national political identity. Although Brazilian national cultural identity fostered civic engagement, particularly during the transition to democracy in the 1980s, it was soon discredited alongside ideologies of racial democracy and mestiçagem, which were also declining in popularity by this point. The military regime’s use of racial democracy and mestiçagem to buttress its repression of anti-racist mobilizing served as further motivation for black intellectuals and activists to reject these ideologies. Following the demise of the military dictatorship in 1985, Afro-Brazilians fomented a local black consciousness movement alongside labor movements, and it has slowly continued to advance since then (Nolen 2015).

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While the sense of a national cultural identity that developed in the latter part of the twentieth century may seem to contradict the discrimination that migrant sugarcane workers experience, Eakin illustrates that the identity formation was short-lived and confined to a particular historical moment following the transition to democracy. Further, he argues: When Brazilians experience prejudice, discrimination, and repression, whether due to the color of their skin, their accent, or their social class, these actions often stem from the cultural constructs of racial, regional, or class identities. These identities may be “discourses,” but they have concrete and direct impact on lives even as these actions reinforce the discourses. At certain moments, such as during the World Cup, these discourses might bind millions together as Brazilians, while at others they divide them as paulistas, nordestinos, gaúchos, or mineiros. Brazilians, like other peoples, live multiple identities simultaneously, and identifying with the nation is one of the most powerful and encompassing of these identities. (Eakin 2017: 266)

Brazilian national identity, rather than being as much a myth as mestiçagem, can be thought of as a contextualized identity that functions when Brazilians are juxtaposed to other nationalities, but appears to unravel among Brazilians of disparate races, colors, levels of education, and socioeconomic classes. For example, solidarity among Brazilians is evident in the context of international athletic competitions, football being paramount among them. On the other hand, migrant sugarcane workers, who for the most part are poor, minimally educated, darker-skinned nordestinos outside of their home region, are especially susceptible to prejudice on the basis of these characteristics, and particularly on the basis of being perceived as encroaching on spaces outside of the northeast.

Civil Society and Afro-Brazilian Politics Despite the illusions of the absence of racial discrimination in Brazil, black and brown Brazilians have not been oblivious to the reality of their low position in Brazil’s racial hierarchy, or to its unfavorable consequences on their lives and livelihoods. Although non-white, poor, and other marginalized Brazilians face the legacies of colonialism and slavery through the exclusion and discrimination that they regularly encounter, they have made considerable progress as agents over their lives. According to MitchellWalthour (2018), black activism in Brazil dates to the time of slavery, when

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enslaved blacks escaped and established communities that became known as quilombos. In the early twentieth century, organizations such as the Black Brazilian Front or Frente Negra Brasileira (FNB) fought for AfroBrazilian civil rights and against the structural racism that impeded their rights, educational opportunities, and upward socioeconomic mobility. The organization also sought the recognition of black Brazilians as fully and intrinsically Brazilian rather than existing simply on the margins (Bailey 2009). However, these organizations were at the time hindered by a restrictive state, and the FNB was banned in 1937 after only six years of activity as part of the government’s prohibition of all political organizations (Dixon 2016: 84). In the latter half of the twentieth century, and in light of the state’s failure to elicit improvements in their conditions, Afro-­ Brazilians continued to challenge the status quo through social movements aimed at self-empowerment and what Dixon (2016) refers to as “expanding citizenship.” Arguably inspired by the Civil Rights movement in the United States and African decolonial movements, starting in the 1970s in Salvador, mobilization among non-whites in the northeast gained momentum. The racial and political consciousness that define the movement at that time represent a “rearticulation of Black identities as a conscious political strategy, serving as a platform to create a radical new Black politics informed by references to Africa, Afro-Diasporic identity, slavery, race, and racism” (Dixon 2016: 20). Dixon argues that culture has played a significant role in both marginalizing and mobilizing Afro-Brazilians. AfroBrazilian cultural markers such as the religious practice of Candomblé or the martial arts dance capoeira have been rejected and downright repressed at times and commodified for commercial purposes at other times by the Brazilian mainstream. Carnival, too, is a significant symbol of Brazilian culture in which Afro-Brazilians are central figures, yet have been excluded at times when the white elite have deemed their practices to stray too far from the cultural and aesthetic norms of the dominant Euro-­descendant mainstream. In the early twentieth century, African clubs, which were the black-dominated predecessors to the contemporary carnival clubs or blocos, were banned. The blocos, including the well-known Bloco Afro Ilê Aiyê, became a popular form of resistance to white cultural domination and a way for blacks to mobilize against racism through cultural channels. By the 1970s, inspired by the black pride movement that spanned continents, black Brazilians reclaimed some of their cultural presence in dominant and visible cultural practices such as carnival (Dixon 2016). During this period, the aesthetic of Afro hairstyles and that, while fashionable, was primarily a

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political statement among African Americans and other blacks worldwide also gained popularity among Afro-Brazilians who were claiming an identity that they had long been taught to reject and embracing aspects of their culture that were once deemed unsavory. Afro-Brazilians also welcomed the soul music from the United States that was popular during this period, and later showed similar appreciation for hip-hop (Mitchell-Walthour 2018), both representing forms of resistance to the denigration of African culture that was pervasive in Brazil. As Paschel (2016) argues, black recognition tended to be more apt when global and domestic forces were in alignment for black mobilization. The 1970s also saw the advance of an influential Afro-Brazilian position in carnival that evolved with other articulations of black culture, and as Dixon posits, “despite attempts at social erasure, banning, or hegemonic suppression (police attack and negative media attention), they have not been able to socially ‘cleanse’ Afro-cultural formations” (Dixon 2016: 45). Over time, blocos have evolved to become encompassing institutions that contribute to community development through the establishment of schools and programs for underprivileged children. Despite criticism that blocos have become too mainstream and have lost the fervor with which they had previously pursued the dismantling of white cultural and political hegemony, they remain central to Afro-Brazilian culture and identity, particularly in the northeast. While they have been accused of compromising the grassroots structure on which they were established, subjecting themselves to commodification, perhaps it is through those compromises that they have managed to attain wider recognition, appeal, and political influence. Dixon (2016) argues that these blocos have been influential in the bourgeoning presence of Afro-Brazilians among elected officials. A number of other grassroots organizations, political organizations, and NGOs have emerged parallel to cultural groups such as blocos, or in some cases, have been inspired by them. Consequently, by the twenty-first century the Brazilian state finally heeded their messages, acknowledged the pervasiveness of racial inequality, and began to implement policies to address the sharp inequities that have existed along racial lines since the country’s founding. There are several key events that demarcate the turning point when Brazil not only acknowledged the existence of racial inequality, but also sought to change the status quo. First, in the 1988 Constitution that followed the end of the military dictatorship, racism was defined as a crime (Dixon 2016: 88). Further, Fernando Henrique Cardoso’s leadership, beginning in 1995, marked a shift in Brazil’s acknowledgment of and

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response to racial inequality. Dixon (2016: 89) describes Cardoso as “perhaps the first Brazilian president to critically understand race, racial discrimination, and race-based social inequality.” For example, in 2000 under his presidency, the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro implemented an affirmative policy; in 2001, the state of Rio de Janeiro legislated a quota system that reserved 40 percent of spaces for black Brazilians in the state universities; and in 2002, the Federal University of Bahia in Salvador followed suit with a quota system to support the admission of Afro-Brazilians (Dixon 2016: 91). This momentum of support for policies intended to decrease racial discrimination continued under the progressive administrations of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva between 2003 and 2011, and Dilma Rousseff from 2011 to 2016. In 2003, Lula appointed the first black Supreme Court justice, who eventually served as chief justice (Dixon 2016: 79). In what is considered among the most important supreme court rulings related to affirmative action, the court upheld affirmative action policies at two universities, which made the more salient political statement that the court recognized the urgency of the need to reduce racial inequality. In 2012 Dilma Rousseff enacted the Law of Social Quotas, which stipulated that at least 50 percent of federal university admissions should be reserved for graduates of public high schools and black, brown, and indigenous students (Dixon 2016: 80). Affirmative action in Brazil was not without legal challenges, many of which are based on the false premise that there is no racial discrimination in Brazil, and that affirmative action consequently functions to the disadvantage of whites (Dixon 2016: 96). The policies remain necessary and popular, but also contested by those who are averse to the disruption on the status quo. The effects of these policies have been slow to manifest in tangible ways. For example, despite having a majority nonwhite population (52 percent), members of the Brazilian congress elected in 2018 self-identify as follows: 75 percent white, 20.3 percent brown, 4.1 percent black, 0.4 percent Asian, and 0.2 percent indigenous (https://brazilian.report/ power/2018/11/20/ethnic-representation-brazil-congress/). This is an improvement over previous years, but still far from representative.

Brazil’s Contemporary Ethnic Composition There is a general consensus among sociologists that race is a social construct. Bailey et al. (2013: 106) refer to race as a “contextual and multidimensional social construct,” and argue that factors contributing to racial

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identity include “self-perception, ascription by others, interactional cues, institutional contexts, and prevailing cultural understandings on consequential markers of human difference.” As such, racial identity is fluid and not based on a singular factor or uniform set of factors such as physical features, although Perry (2013) argues that the preoccupation with understanding Brazilian racial self-definition is an academic issue rather than a subject that black Brazilian women tend to concern themselves with. While some scholars have debated the possibility of upward socioeconomic mobility facilitating the transition from one racial identity to another, or “whitening” (Schwartzman 2007; Butler 1998), Bailey et al. argue that racial classification is not independent of social status, particularly in Brazil. The inextricable relationship between race and class is evident in the racial boundary-crossing that seems to take place over time, as changes in the country’s racial composition as indicated on the decennial censuses are not always explicable by demographic shifts. The Brazilian Institute for Geography and Statistics or Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatística (IBGE), which is responsible for collecting national demographic data and conducting the decennial census, uses five categories to define race: branco (white), preto (black), pardo (mixed), amarelo (yellow), and Indígena (Indigenous). Prior to 1991, IBGE asked census respondents their skin color; since 1991 they have instead asked respondents to indicate their race or color (Loveman et al. 2012: 1468; Bailey and Telles 2002). These race/color categories have been criticized for their inappropriateness as descriptors for people (Telles 2004; Loveman et al. 2012). Preto or black is typically used to describe objects; when used to describe a person, it refers to someone with a very dark complexion and often carries a pejorative undertone (Loveman et al. 2012). The use of pardo, which refers to brown-skinned and/or mixed-­ race individuals, has been criticized for its use as a census racial category because it is not typically used in Brazilian vernacular; moreno is the more commonly used term to denote the wide spectrum of colors between the extremes of black and white. Further, some scholars perceive the use of the term pardo as a way to avoid claiming blackness. However, the terms negro (black) and afro-descendente (Afro-descendant) have become widely accepted and widely used to denote black and brown people (pretos and pardos) collectively (Nascimento 2001: 512). The 2010 census indicated that 47.7 percent of the population is white, 43.1 percent mixed, 7.6 percent black, 1.1 percent Asian, and 0.4 percent indigenous. Of the 45 respondents interviewed for this project, 100 percent of them self-­

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identified as mixed-race or brown. Although the majority used the term pardo, several respondents referred to themselves as moreno, which carries a similar meaning and is the more popularly used term for a mixed-race person or a person of African descent (Mitchell-Walthour 2018: 8; Loveman et al. 2012: 1469). This was particularly the case among respondents with whom the interview was longer and took a less structured, more informal tone. It could be the case that the more formal, less free-­ flowing interviews conveyed an atmosphere akin to the census interview. The tendency for the participants in this study to self-identify as pardo is consistent with a more general trend toward a greater number of Brazilians embracing their black or mixed-race identities. The 2010 census indicated an increase in the black and mixed-race populations and a decrease in the white population. However, there is widespread speculation that rather than an increase in actual numbers of black and brown people, there has been an increase in the number of people who self-­ identify as black or brown, perhaps shifting away from their prior self-­ identification (Nolen 2015). As per the 2010 census, 97 million Brazilians, representing 50.7 percent of the population, self-identify as black or brown, an increase from 44.7 percent in the 2000 census. In 2000, 53.7 percent of Brazilians self-identified as white, and this proportion declined to 47.7 percent (91 million) in 2010 (Phillips 2011). The respondents in this study, all of whom identified using terminology that connotes brown or mixed race, were phenotypically varied. From the researcher’s perspective, some of the respondents could be defined as black or as white in different ethnoracial contexts. Their racially ambiguous appearance allowed them to choose their racial category. The darker-skinned participants’ self-­ identification as pardo rather than black affirms Wade’s (1995) argument that “blacks often identify as brown when they migrate to non-black communities” (Telles and Lim 1998: 466). My speculation with regard to the phenotypically white respondents’ choice to self-identify as brown or mixed rather than as white is that their socioeconomic status and position as sugar-cane cutters vis-à-vis the predominantly white, better educated, and more affluent permanent residents of their adopted communities caused them to identify more closely racially and culturally with their peers from the northeast. Although the ability to choose one’s racial identity is not unique, it is more representative of the Brazilian context than other similarly heterogeneous societies. In the United States, for example, the “one-drop rule” dictated that having any black ancestry would render one black. Although

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it is now common for people in the United States to self-identify as biracial or multiracial, the history of racial segregation is such that people of mixed race that includes black ancestry typically consider themselves black. Similarly, following decades of legislated segregation under apartheid, South Africans now have the freedom to choose their racial identity. However, even in the post-apartheid era, racial categorization remains rigid, with clear distinctions between blacks, whites, Asians, and coloureds.1 The latter does not simply refer to the mixed-race population, but represents an ethnic and cultural group whose history makes them distinguishable from those who are the product of contemporary interracial unions. The freedom with which Brazilians are able to choose their racial identity stems from the absence of anti-miscegenation legislation. South African and US laws prohibited interracial unions, whereas miscegenation was encouraged in Brazil in an effort to whiten the population and even actively pursued through a program that, until 1927, sponsored European travel to Brazil (Mitchell-Walthour 2018: 11). The result is a large population of people whose spectrum of phenotypes allows them to defy categorization and gives them the flexibility to choose how they want to identify, which some scholars refer to as racial ambiguity (Telles 2002; James and Tucker 2003; Grier et al. 2014). Racial ambiguity enables those whose physical appearance does not fit neatly into US-centric racial classifications to choose how they want to identify, while simultaneously fostering the opportunity for ­misidentification when others do the categorizing. The idea of racial ambiguity does, however, underscore the arbitrariness of forcing people to claim a particular racial identity. Although racism is very much a reality in Brazil, it is complicated by the way in which higher or lower socioeconomic status can alter the perception of those whose racial ambiguity allows them access into multiple racial groups. Paschel (2016: 13) suggests that an “anti-­ essentialist way of thinking about identity and political struggle also recognizes that identity is itself inherently multiple. People are never exclusively or singularly black, but rather inhabit many social locations simultaneously.” Still, I emphasize here that others’ acceptance and perception tend to be more variable than one’s self-perception. While US-based literature on racial discrimination favors a white-black dichot1  While this term is considered offensive in the US context, it is the terminology that has historically been used and is still in use to denote people of mixed ancestry who were separated by both blacks and whites under apartheid.

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omy, scholars of Latin America and the Caribbean have embraced more nuanced and inclusive ways of defining race and have long been aware that socioeconomic class can blur color lines. Changes in the racial statistics between the Brazilian censuses of 2000 and 2010, discussed above, further highlight the fluidity of racial identity. Respondents’ self-­identification and/or census takers’ classifications of respondents likely shifted over time. Similarly, several scholars have noted the significant changes in Brazil’s racial demographics between 1950 and 1980 (Mikulak 2011; Telles 2002; Wood 1991). The 38 percent decrease in the black population, which coincides with the 34 percent increase in the brown population, suggests a change in the way respondents self-identified during this period (Mikulak 2011). Based on the same inconsistencies in census-­based demographic data, Wood (1991) surmised that some individuals who were classified as brown or black in the 1950 census were classified as white by the 1980 census owing to their upward socioeconomic mobility; apparent demographic changes were unlikely to have been attributable to actual population change (Telles 2002: 419). In his study of the discrepancy between census interviewers’ racial categorization of respondents and the respondents’ racial self-identification, Telles (2002) found that educational and socioeconomic achievement influenced interviewers’ racial categorization of respondents. The wealthier or more highly educated a respondent was deemed to be, the less likely s/he was to be considered black. Telles observes that despite the stipulation that respondents define their own race, census takers often make this determination “either because they assume they know the correct response category, they feel uncomfortable asking about race, or they rush interviews and provide cursory responses to questions they feel are not critical” (Telles 2002: 415). Further, Telles argues that it is not only phenotype that shapes how one’s race is perceived; factors such as dress and speech, which also infer socioeconomic class, influence the perception of race (Telles 2002: 417), adding another layer of complexity to Brazil’s already fluid racial categorization. Despite observers’ inconsistent perceptions of upwardly mobile blacks, Mitchell-Walthour (2018) found that racial self-perception is not influenced by income or education. She refers to the concept that “money whitens” as a myth and argues that racial self-identification is not as fluid as is sometimes assumed. Consistent with the idea of the variability of racial identity, Schwartzman (2007) argues that the tendency to view changes in racial identity as misidentification or miscategorization represents a dichotomous, black/white

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approach to racial identity that is rooted in US definitions of race. Instead, she proposes a consideration of shifting racial identity (whitening, specifically) as boundary-crossing. Further, she argues that the upward socioeconomic mobility of some non-whites in Brazil results in a greater tendency for them to identify or be classified as white. While her analysis is supported by that of other scholars (Bailey et al. 2013; Telles 2002), it contradicts the discrepancy between the census 2000 and 2010 demographic data. Growth in black consciousness in Brazil during the late twentieth century (Nolen 2015; Barcelos 1999) suggests the possibility that the increase in the number of people identifying as black or brown is attributable to the continued progress of pride in African ancestry. Further, Bailey and Telles (2002) observed that the use of the term negro to racially self-­ identify was more common among highly educated black and brown Brazilians, who are more likely to engage in discourses of black consciousness, which tend to be more popular among the intellectual elite. Mitchell-­ Walthour (2018: 94–5) also found, based on separate datasets, that blacks of higher education and blacks of higher income levels tend to identify as negro or preto, most likely following their experience with racism. Whether shifts in racial identity and/or classification are the result of upward socioeconomic mobility, heightened racial consciousness, or other variables, what is evident is that whiteness is no longer the only aspirational racial category. Racial identity is flexible and shifts do not only occur between generations, but may even be possible in the same individual.

Discrimination Against Migrant Sugarcane Workers Carl N.  Degler’s 1971 statement that “the farther south one travels in Brazil the more intense the degree of prejudice” (Degler 1971: 99) seems to hold true today, as migrant sugarcane workers interviewed in Guariba for this study discussed discrimination as a fundamental aspect of their experience as migrant workers. What was curious about the conversations, however, was that very few respondents—only two—specifically referenced race as the reason for the discrimination that they encountered. Respondents described their status as migrants from the northeast and their occupations as manual harvesters of sugarcane, both of which positioned them at the low end of the socioeconomic hierarchy as the basis for the discrimination they faced. One 19-year-old male respondent, who was, with his cousin, on his first season as a sugarcane harvester in Guariba, made the following comments:

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We don’t like going to town. When we walk through the stores, the sales people follow us around. They think we are going to steal their goods when all we are trying to do is buy what we need. They think we are criminals. We avoid shopping in their stores if we can, but sometimes we have to. They know we are from the northeast and they make fun of us and say we are dirty and don’t wear clothes or shoes because we like to wear flip flops. They don’t know that this is how we dress in the northeast. They act like they don’t understand our accent, but we understand theirs. We are all Brazilian, but they treat us like we are different.

In response to my question regarding spending their earnings in  local shops, restaurants, or bars, another respondent stated: I don’t go to the bars in town because they don’t want us there. They stare at us and they don’t think we have the money to pay our bills. We don’t feel comfortable there. We are outsiders and are not welcome. They think we are all thieves and criminals. If anything happens in town or if someone commits a crime, they think we do it. We just want to work, save our money, and go home.

Another respondent, who was not cutting sugarcane at the time but had done so in the past and was the partner of a man who was still working in the industry, stated explicitly: They discriminate against us. They don’t want us here. They think we are taking their jobs, but they don’t want to do this work. If they did, the work wouldn’t be here for us to do. We keep to ourselves. It is better when we rent our own houses outside of town. At least we can be together in our community, cook the food that we like, and play the music we like without anybody complaining about us. They don’t want us to live in their neighborhoods and if we do, they complain. It is better for us to live amongst ourselves. They prefer when we live here [in the tenements on the outskirts of town], because we are among ourselves, far away from them and their town.

While difference was implied in all contexts, there was rarely a reference to racial, ethnic, or color differences. Rather, the emphasis was on regional, cultural, and occupational differences. Their status as outsiders and being from another region and state was frequently referenced. There were inferences to socioeconomic difference, although neither relative wealth nor poverty was explicitly discussed. There was a greater sense of indigna-

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tion from the younger participants, who, while avoiding explicit reference to race or color, alluded to their own foreignness. These responses parallel those recorded by Mikulak (2011), who observed among her research participants that although they are aware of racism being directed at them, they were not overt in expressing this awareness because “they are unable to mobilize their own indignation in ways that publically call attention to their marginalization” (Mikulak 2011: 89). Similarly, Mitchell-Walthour (2018) observed a tendency for more highly educated Afro-Brazilians to be more conscious of racial discrimination than those with less education. Coming from a US context and observing the cross-cultural dynamics of the interactions between the migrants and the permanent residents of the town, I found it unusual that there was no insinuation that race, ethnicity, or color was a factor in the residents’ discriminatory words and behavior toward the migrant workers. However, the emphasis on class, region, and occupation rather than on race is consistent with what other scholars have observed of Brazilians’ approach to racial division (Mikulak 2011). Although the concept of racial democracy has been widely refuted, there is still considerable resistance to explicitly confronting race as the basis for discrimination. Silva (1999: 67) challenges the once-dominant hypothesis that “social mobility is not influenced by race and that the disadvantaged position of nonwhites in Brazilian society stems from ongoing historical inequalities.” While he argues that racial discrimination is rooted in prejudice rather than in class discrimination stemming from the protracted enslavement of Africans in Brazil, I contend that these perspectives are not mutually exclusive. Rather, they are inextricably linked. Enslavement and marginalization have left black and brown Brazilians at a socioeconomic disadvantage, and simultaneously, contemporary racial discrimination may well be rooted in the ways in which the Brazilian ruling class has historically perceived Africans and their descendants as inferior. As Castro and Guimarães (1999: 85) argue, “the initial exclusion and retarded inclusion of negros in Brazilian industry is attributed to their delayed proletarianization.” They also argue that racial discrimination is responsible for reproducing existing inequalities and describe racial discrimination and the historically entrenched socioeconomic disparities as mutually reinforcing rather than mutually exclusive.

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Racism or Xenophobia? Migrant sugarcane workers in Guariba dwell—for at least part of the year—in a context in which they are perceived as both racialized and foreign. While they express their experience with discrimination as being rooted in their cultural difference and “outsider” status, their cultural identity being from the northeast is entrenched in the African history of the region and much of its population. Consequently, the discrimination that migrant workers from Brazil’s northeast encounter in the south is rooted in racism. Sundstrom and Kim (2014) argue that while racism and xenophobia are intersected and best understood in relation to each other, the two ought not be conflated. Xenophobia, which Sundstrom and Kim define as civic ostracism or civic exclusion, typically targets outsiders in the context of the nation-state. Yet as has been illustrated above, owing to Brazil’s size and its geographic, socioeconomic, and racial diversity, internal migrants with visibly distinct characteristics can be the objects of xenophobia in their adopted communities. Given the color spectrum of the participants in this study and the consistent and universal sense of exclusion and marginalization that they experience, racism alone does not adequately describe or explain the ostracism that they face. Xenophobia supplements the explanation by accounting for discrimination against individuals who are phenotypically similar to the perpetrators. In southern Brazilian towns such as Guariba, Brazilians from the northeast are effectively foreigners. Beyond skin color, their accents, typical diet, and ­clothing distinguish them from local residents. Although they contend with structural racism, this is compounded by the exclusion that comes from their fellow citizens.

Conclusion The critique of a country’s treatment of migrant workers takes on a different dimension when the migrant workers are not foreign but are fellow citizens, who in theory have the same rights to protection from their government. While the Brazilian government has implemented policies that aim to protect workers’ rights, working conditions remain brutal and living conditions are modest at best. Complications regarding access to the benefits of affirmative action abound, as racial categories remain highly contested, and it is unclear who qualifies. Further compounding this problem is the discrimination that the migrant sugarcane workers encounter as

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they migrate from the historically African northeastern region to the historically European center-south. Bailey (2009) criticizes the challenges that Afro-Brazilian social and political movements have faced in garnering support among Afro-­ Brazilians and other non-white Brazilians for whom the organizations were established to advocate. I similarly found among my participants apathy for, and in some cases, rejection of social movements that explicitly espouse anti-discrimination. Bailey (2009) offers three potential explanations for this: the denial of racial discrimination; class divisions that suggest that the black liberation movement was a project of the black intellectual elite and was not inclusive of the poor, nonwhite majority; and the resistance of most nonwhites to self-identifying as black, which causes them to also reject any alignment with a movement for black advancement. What Paschel observes in her research on black social and political movements in Colombia and Brazil differs. She found instead that Brazilians spoke openly about racism (Paschel 2016: 4). From my perspective, Paschel’s observations do not contradict Bailey’s nor my own; rather they reflect different sectors of the population, different levels of race consciousness, as well as Paschel’s inclusive perspective on movements. Further, Mitchell-Walthour (2018) illustrates the ways in which the demographic composition and “politico-social environments” or different geographic contexts also determine the degree to which black mobilization advances. Paschel’s quote of a research participant who is an Afro-­ Colombian activist and political leader neatly and candidly summarizes the reticence of my participants to mobilize along racial lines: “Mobilizing a community that’s hungry to take up a cause that goes beyond their stomach isn’t easy” (Paschel 2016: 15). While desperate working conditions have periodically motivated sugarcane workers to take collective action to demand more humane conditions, based on their perception of racial inequality in Brazil, they have not experienced a similarly pressing motivation to mobilize against racial prejudice. Furthermore, for some, the black cultural movements of the 1970s were led by the black intellectual elite that were perceived as having the luxury to focus on black aesthetics and cultural markers such as African clothing, hairstyles, and names, rather than fundamentally altering racial hegemony (Barcelos 1999: 163). Consequently, the movements appeared far removed from the workers’ lived experiences. Factors such as educational attainment and exposure to activists are influential in determining racial consciousness or motivation to participate in race-based social or political movements. My research

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participants generally faced limitations on both education and exposure to activists, and were consequently not keen to participate in these movements. However, I argue that their experience as migrants is as strong a determining factor as their education and socioeconomic class, as their status as outsiders places seasonal migrant workers in a position where they feel they do not belong and are not entitled to make demands. Further, civic ostracism places them on the margins of local politics and essentially undermines their citizenship. In some ways, they have internalized the exclusion that they experience at the hands of permanent residents in Guariba, as they demonstrate behavior that suggests that their focus is intently on working, saving money, and returning to the northeast, where they are comfortable, and where race, color, or cultural disparities are less palpable. Furthermore, being seasonal migrants who are only temporarily occupying spaces, both at home and at work, precludes their embeddedness in either space. This is not to say that they are passively waiting for others to effect change in their lives. Rather, they engage in what Bento (1999: 118) refers to as survival strategies, through which they develop a cost-benefits analysis of what is necessary to maintain versus improve their livelihoods. Resistance is not a singular narrative; the actions that migrant workers take to accomplish their goals represent their daily acts of resistance against the dynamics that inhibit their progress. Further, the act of uprooting themselves, in some cases with their family members, and enduring the physical and emotional hardships of working and living in the south represents their agency over their lives, even in the absence of what might typically be explicitly considered racial consciousness.

References Andrews, George Reid. 1996. Brazilian Racial Democracy, 1900–90: An American Counterpoint. Journal of Contemporary History 31 (3): 483–507. Bailey, Stanley R. 2004. Group Dominance and the Myth of Racial Democracy: Antiracism Attitudes in Brazil. American Sociological Review 69 (5): 728–747. ———. 2009. Legacies of Race: Identities, Attitudes, and Politics in Brazil. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Bailey, Stanley R., and Edward Eric Telles. 2002. From Ambiguity to Affirmation: Challenging Census Race Categories in Brazil. Unpublished Manuscript. https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/6290/55c8f510cb4496f417ea2f168c57 b4b60184.pdf?_ga=2.212961558.362513474.1566485957-1473203989. 1566485957. Accessed 21 Aug 2019.

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Bailey, Stanley R., Mara Loveman, and Jeronimo O. Muniz. 2013. Measures of “Race” and the Analysis of Racial Inequality in Brazil. Social Science Research 42 (1): 106–119. Barcelos, Luiz Claudio. 1999. Struggling in Paradise: Racial Mobilization and the Contemporary Black Movement in Brazil. In Race in Contemporary Brazil: From Indifference to Inequality, ed. Rebecca Lynn Reichmann. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Bento, Maria Aparecida Silva. 1999. Silent Conflict: Discriminatory Practices and Black Responses in the Workplace. In Race in Contemporary Brazil: from Indifference to Inequality, ed. Rebecca Lynn Reichmann. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Butler, Kim D. 1998. Freedoms Given, Freedoms Won: Afro-Brazilians in Post-­ Abolition São Paulo and Salvador. New Brunswick/London: Rutgers University Press. Castro, Nadya Araújo, and Antonio Sérgio Alfredo Guimarães. 1999. Racial Inequalities in the Labor Market and the Workplace. In Race in Contemporary Brazil: From Indifference to Inequality, ed. Rebecca Reichmann. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. Covin, David. 2006. The Unified Black Movement in Brazil, 1978–2002. Jefferson: McFarland & Co. Degler, Carl N. 1971. Neither Black Nor White: Slavery and Race Relations in Brazil and the United States. Madison: University of Wisconsin. Dixon, Kwame. 2016. Afro-Politics and Civil Society in Salvador Da Bahia, Brazil. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Dzidzienyo, Anani. 1971. The Position of Blacks in Brazilian Society. London: Minority Rights Group. Eaglin, Jennifer. 2015. Sweet Fuel: Ethanol’s Socio-Political Origins in Ribeirão Preto, São Paulo, 1933–1985. Doctoral Diss., Michigan State University. Eakin, Marshall C. 2017. Becoming Brazilians: Race and National Identity in Twentieth-Century Brazil. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fredrickson, George M. 1981. White Supremacy: A Comparative Study in American and South African History. New  York/Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grier, Tiffanie, Carol Rambo, and Marshall A.  Taylor. 2014. ‘What Are You?’: Racial Ambiguity, Stigma, and the Racial Formation Project. Deviant Behavior 35 (12): 1006–1022. Guimaraes, Antonio Sergio. 2001. Race, Class and Color: Behind Brazil’s ‘Racial Democracy’. NACLA Report on The Americas; New York 34 (6): 38–39. Hickman, Chistine B. 1997. The Devil and the One Drop Rule: Racial Categories, African Americans, and the U.S.  Census. Michigan Law Review 95 (5): 1161–1265.

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James, Angela D., and M. Belinda Tucker. 2003. Racial Ambiguity and Relationship Formation in the United States: Theoretical and Practical Considerations. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 20 (2): 153–169. Khanna, Nikki. 2010. ‘If You’re Half Black, You’re Just Black’: Reflected Appraisals and the Persistence of the One-Drop Rule. The Sociological Quarterly 51 (1): 96–121. Kivisto, Peter, and Thomas Faist. 2007. Citizenship: Discourse, Theory, and Transnational Prospects. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Kymlicka, Will, and W.J. Norman. 2000. Citizenship in Diverse Societies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Loveman, Mara, Jeronimo O. Muniz, and Stanley R. Bailey. 2012. Brazil in Black and White? Race Categories, the Census, and the Study of Inequality. Ethnic and Racial Studies 35 (8): 1466–1483. Marback, Richard, and Marc W. Kruman, eds. 2015. The Meaning of Citizenship. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. Marx, Anthony W. 1998. Making Race and Nation: A Comparison of South Africa, the United States, and Brazil. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mikulak, Marcia L. 2011. The Symbolic Power of Color: Constructions of Race, Skin-Color, and Identity in Brazil. Humanity & Society 35 (1–2): 62–99. Mitchell-Walthour, Gladys L. 2018. The Politics of Blackness: Racial Identity and Political Behavior in Contemporary Brazil. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nascimento, Elisa Larkin. 2001. It’s in the Blood: Notes on Race Attitudes in Brazil from a Different Perspective. In Beyond Racism: Race and Inequality in Brazil, South Africa, and the United States, ed. Charles V. Hamilton. Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Nolen, Stephanie. 2015. Brazil’s Colour Bind. The Globe and Mail, July 31. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/brazils-colour-bind/article25779474/. Accessed 1 Aug 2018. Norman, Krystle. 2011. Identity and Public Policy: Redefining the Concept of Racial Democracy in Brazil. Harvard Journal of African American Public Policy 17: 29. Paschel, Tianna S. 2016. Becoming Black Political Subjects: Movements and Ethno-­ Racial Rights in Colombia and Brazil. Princeton: Princeton University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400881079. Perea, Juan F. 1997. The Black/White Binary of Race: The ‘Normal Science’ of American Racial Thought. California Law Review 85 (5): 1213–1258. Perry, Keisha-Khan Y. 2013. Black Women Against the Land Grab: The Fight for Racial Justice in Brazil. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota Press. Phillips, Tom. 2011. Brazil Census Shows African-Brazilians in the Majority for the First Time. The Guardian, 17 November. https://www.theguardian.com/

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world/2011/nov/17/brazil-census-african-brazilians-majority. Accessed 12 June 2018. Schwartzman, Luisa Farah. 2007. Does Money Whiten? Intergenerational Changes in Racial Classification in Brazil. American Sociological Review, Washington 72 (6): 940–963. Sheriff, Robin E. 2008. Embracing Race: Deconstructing Mestiçagem in Rio de Janeiro. Journal of Latin American Anthropology 8 (1): 86–115. Silva, Nelson do Valle. 1999. Racial Differences in Income: Brazil, 1988. In Race in Contemporary Brazil: From Indifference to Inequality, ed. Rebecca Reichmann. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. Sundstrom, Ronald R., and David Haekwon Kim. 2014. Xenophobia and Racism. Critical Philosophy of Race 2 (1): 20–45. Telles, Edward E. 2002. Racial Ambiguity Among the Brazilian Population. Ethnic and Racial Studies 25 (3): 415–441. ———. 2004. Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Telles, Edward, and Nelson Lim. 1998. Does It Matter Who Answers the Race Question? Racial Classification and Income Inequality in Brazil. Demography 35 (4): 465–474. https://doi.org/10.2307/3004014. Wade, Peter. 1995. Blackness and Race Mixture: The Dynamics of Racial Identity in Colombia. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University. Wood, Charles H. 1991. Categorias censitarias e classificagoes subjetivas de raga no Brasil. In Desigualdade racial no Brasil contemporcneo, ed. Peggy A. Lovell, 93–111. Belo Horizonte: Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, Centro de Desenvolvimento e Planejamento Regional.

CHAPTER 5

The (Un)Sustainability of Manual Sugarcane Harvesting

Abstract  This chapter concludes the book by considering the implications of the transition to the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting. Although the employment repercussions of the shift toward mechanization are dire, I argue that given the human, social, and environmental challenges, the current model of sugarcane labor is unsustainable. The concluding chapter asserts that as manual harvesting is superseded by mechanized harvesting, the loss of employment may impose pressure on the state and federal governments to create opportunities that will lessen the impetus to work under conditions that result in a higher-than-average mortality rate. The chapter presents an overview of the Bolsa Família program as an example of the Brazilian government’s demonstrated ability to address social problems. I argue that although the will is currently lacking, the Brazilian government has a responsibility to all its citizens, especially in light of Brazil’s influential position in the global economy. Keywords  Unemployment • Bolsa Família • Politics • Inequality

Introduction Through the consideration of the experiences of migrant sugarcane workers in Guariba, São Paulo, this book has argued that Brazil’s deeply entrenched inequality represents what scholars have termed internal colonialism. The long history of exploitation of people and resources has © The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2_5

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consolidated the division between the north and the south, and the socioeconomic divisions between the two regions are so deeply ensconced that the seasonal labor migration of agricultural workers has become part of their livelihood strategy, much like it is between developed and developing countries of the world, or between former colonies and their former colonizers. While other countries of the world are also inflicted with stark income inequalities, Brazil has the added complexity of the congruence of racial, socioeconomic, and regional inequalities. The northeast, with the highest concentration of Brazil’s Afro-descendant population, also has the highest poverty rates. The south, by contrast, has a higher Euro-descendant population and more wealth. The greater capital investment in the south, and the consequently greater availability of jobs, creates the impetus for seasonal labor migration from north to south. The seasonal migrant workers that find themselves manually harvesting sugarcane endure the physically taxing toil, the risk of health hazards and injury, the indignity of discrimination at the hands of their compatriots, and a salary that is so meagre yet so indispensable that it compels them to return year after year in a vicious cycle of dependence on a system that is quickly becoming obsolete. In this chapter, I argue that manual sugarcane harvesting is unsustainable. That the Brazilian government has, under different administrations, demonstrated its capacity to develop and institute policies and programs that improve social and economic conditions through wealth redistribution suggests the possibility that it is capable of developing programs to support former sugarcane workers as they transition to other occupations. Such policies and programs are needed at this time to offset the loss of employment that displaced sugarcane workers are facing, because despite the social and economic trepidation that accompanies the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting, this form of labor that was developed using the forced labor of enslaved Africans does not befit the twenty-­first century.

Transformation of the Sugarcane Industry As discussed in Chap. 3, manual sugarcane harvesters contend with a plethora of challenges pertaining to their arduous working and living conditions. Still, they continue to make the annual trip to the south because of high unemployment rates in the northeast and the dearth of alternative livelihood options. Moraes and Figueiredo (2008) describe the tendency for the young and unemployed from the poorest parts of northeastern Brazil to

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travel to the state of São Paulo in search of employment in the sugarcane industry as a culture, implying that this labor migration pattern has become customary as an employment option. It is therefore no surprise that the rapid progression of mechanized harvesting is a source of consternation for the workers and those who depend on their incomes, such as family members in the northeast. The workers are aware that although burning sugarcane prior to manual harvesting made the cutting safer (in terms of avoiding pests and venomous animals)  and less onerous, it also exposed them to harmful particulates that contribute to respiratory illnesses, and they supported the development of policies that would protect their health and well-being. However, given that burning renders manual harvesting considerably more expeditious, the alternative to burning proved to be the elimination of manual harvesting in favor of the use of mechanized harvesters, to the detriment of the workers and their livelihoods. There is no question that the greatest cost of the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting is the accompanying job loss, especially as the manual harvesters whose jobs are replaced by machinery are likely to have the lowest levels of education and the fewest transferable skills. This study did not extend to the former sugarcane workers who had already lost jobs to mechanized harvesting. However, a 2001 study found some reduction in employment availability as indicated in Table 5.1. Rosendo and Matos (2017) found that former migrant sugarcane workers often found themselves as day laborers in construction, gardening, and agriculture. Only 12 percent of the authors’ sample reported that they were unemployed and required aid (Rosendo and Matos 2017: 124). Moraes et al. (2015) speculate that many of the displaced sugarcane workTable 5.1  Impact of mechanization on employment Region North Northeast Midwest Southeast South Total Brazil

# of employed workers pre-mechanization, 1997

# of employed workers post-mechanization

% employment reduction

2043 225,911 35,746 194,669 52,282 510,651

198 119,334 11,036 95,320 11,487 237,375

90 47 69 51 78 54

Source: http://ella.practicalaction.org/knowledge-brief/from-manual-to-mechanical-harvestingreducing-environmental-impacts-and-increasing-cogeneration-potential/

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ers found construction jobs in infrastructure development, especially in the construction boom during the years leading to Brazil’s hosting of the World Cup and Olympics in 2014 and 2016 respectively. Given the recent and ongoing nature of the transition to mechanized sugarcane harvesting, it is difficult to speculate on the workers’ outcomes in other fields in comparison to their employment in the sugarcane industry. What we do know is that a form of labor in which workers routinely battle chronic renal failure, respiratory illnesses, and musculoskeletal disorders, and occasionally collapse to their death from heat, dehydration, and exhaustion is not sustainable and ought not evoke nostalgia. Further, the environmental ramifications of burning sugarcane strengthen the impetus to transition away from this form of labor. The mechanization process is unlikely to abate, as it is showing signs of efficiency and addressing some of the problems that were rife in manual harvesting. As we consider the social and economic implications of this transition on the workers who are in desperate need of employment opportunities, the coal industry in the United States shows some analogous characteristics. Since the inception of the US coal industry in the eighteenth century, the fossil fuel has been a major source of energy, providing more than half of the country’s energy needs by 1929 (Newcomb 1978: 207). The presumed sustainability of the industry has fluctuated over the years based on the US and global economy, energy demands, alternative sources of energy, costs, investment, and economic viability. Much like sugarcane, coal mining initially relied on a labor force of low-skilled workers who were willing to work under arduous conditions for relatively low wages. Men were recruited to live in the coal-mining regions such as the Appalachian Basin, where towns eventually developed, essentially built around the industry (Bell and York 2010: 120). Coal mining in Central Appalachia is based on the exploitation of the people and land, starting with corporate developers deceiving small farmers out of land that was made valuable because of coal. Since the farmers were unaware of the value of their land and the resources that lay beneath it, they willingly sold their property for negligible sums and transitioned from subsistence and self-sufficient farmers to being part of a cheap labor force in an industry in which underpaid workers risk their health and their lives. Because of the exploitation of the people, the land, and the natural resources in this impoverished part of the United States, some scholars have referred to Central Appalachia as an “internal colony” (Bell and York 2010: 119), referencing the sociological theory of internal colonialism that underpins

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this study, as discussed in Chap. 2. Much like northeastern Brazil, Central Appalachia has been treated like a colony in the way its people and natural resources have been exploited while the region remains underdeveloped, especially in comparison to other parts of the country. The extraction of coal—particularly by means of mountaintop mining—can lead to flooding and coal-sludge dams (Bell and York 2010). Furthermore, the burning of coal to generate energy contributes to greenhouse gas emissions. As the environmental limitations of the reliance on coal as a primary source of energy have become more evident, coal has declined in popularity. Concurrently, the availability and costeffectiveness of other sources of energy such as natural gas and renewables also make coal a less appealing option. Reliance on coal energy has declined considerably in the past decade, and in April 2019, renewable energy sources surpassed coal in providing energy for the US grid for the first time (Doan et al. 2019). Further, as the detrimental health effects that coal mining has had on workers through ailments such as black lung disease have become widely associated with the industry, the impetus to reduce coal reliance has become more urgent. As in the case of manual sugarcane harvesting, the desire to keep the coal industry alive is largely based on the need to preserve employment for a population that has few alternatives. Gross (2019) argues that given the environmental and economic challenges that the coal industry faces, efforts to revive it would be better spent in developing strategies for the livelihoods of those affected by the impending demise of coal. The approach that the current US administration is taking appears to be an attempt to forestall the inevitable demise of the industry. However, as market forces have resulted in widespread job loss, affected states such as Ohio, Kentucky, and West Virginia have developed programs to encourage retrenched workers and/or their household members to seek careers in other fields. Robertson (2019) documents the evolution of Letcher County, Kentucky, from an area dominated by the coal industry, in which the majority of the workforce was male. As the coal industry receded and the predominantly male miners faced the loss of their livelihoods, women have taken advantage of training programs and now comprise the majority of the workforce. The healthcare industry, in particular, now dominates the landscape of Letcher County, and women have sought training as healthcare workers in this field, which is both lucrative and dependable (Robertson 2019). While some of the men whom Robertson encountered object to the dominance of women in the workforce as less

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than ideal, the shift does represent an example of the way in which a community is able to adjust to the social and economic transformations that the demise of an industry can generate. In the case of Brazil, I argue that the central problem that accompanies the mechanization of sugarcane harvesting is not simply the loss of jobs, but rather the absence of state policies or programs to mitigate the loss. Although widespread poverty, undereducation, and pervasive inequality plague Brazil, the country is rich in natural resources, has considerable development potential, and has potential for economic productivity, as its designation among the world’s leading emerging economies, including Russia, India, China, and South Africa (BRICS), suggests. The world’s economy, industries, and, most importantly, social standards pertaining to the treatment of human beings have changed markedly in the 400 years or so since the inception of the sugarcane industry. That labor in the industry so closely resembles what it did centuries ago when workers were enslaved is a travesty. If mechanization is the most viable solution, then the response ought not be to lament the demise of sugarcane labor, but rather to seek alternative and better options for former workers. Equipping the population with education and skills empowers them as workers to demand humane working conditions and living wages in their chosen fields of work. Ending manual sugarcane harvesting could be considered an opportunity for educational advancement and upward socioeconomic mobility for displaced workers and the generations that follow them.

Governance and Inequality Inequality in Brazil has a long history, but contemporary income differentials between groups of Brazilians are largely determined by geographic location and the race and educational levels of the heads of households (Salardi 2005: 13). As can be expected, those who are white and southern have considerably higher socioeconomic status than those who are black or brown and northern. Despite Brazil’s enduring notoriety as one of the most unequal countries in the world, there has been slow but steady improvement. The Gini coefficient has declined gradually since the late 1990s, from 0.592 to 0.537 (Lustig et al. 2012). As a percentage, the Gini coefficient declined from 57.68 in 2004 to 54.69 in 2009 (Kulkarni and Randall 2014: 21) and 51.5 in 2014 (World Bank). Conventional wisdom suggests that investment in education would be an obvious means toward greater equality across the Brazilian population. However, some scholars

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have found that investment in universal, tuition-free tertiary education is not as helpful for income redistribution as might be expected (Góes and Karpowicz 2017). This is because Brazilian public universities are of high standard and admission can be a feat, particularly for students who have not had access to private primary and secondary schools, which are of significantly higher standard than public schools at that level. Higgins and Pereira (2014) describe Brazil as being among the worst-performing countries in Latin America in terms of providing access to tertiary education to the poor. Ironically, the standards of public primary and secondary schools in Brazil do not match those of public universities, so it is the students who have attended private primary and secondary schools who are most likely to gain admission to the public universities, where they can then benefit from tuition-free tertiary education. Consequently, higher education remains fairly exclusive and is not necessarily the most likely path toward upward socioeconomic mobility and greater equality. Some scholars attribute the decline in inequality in recent years to cash-­ based social programs that seek to redistribute wealth and argue that they are more effective than investment in tuition-free university education because they are able to reach those who are unable to attend university (Góes and Karpowicz 2017; Mendes 2014). One such cash-based program is the Bolsa Família, which is a monetary allowance given to low-­ income families. The grants are accompanied by health- and education-related stipulations, including the enrollment of the children of recipient families in school and their regular attendance. Parents are also required to comply with healthcare requirements such as maternal care and vaccinations for children in order to qualify (Mendes 2014: 81). The Bolsa Família program was established under Lula’s presidency and at the time of its founding in 2004, about 6.5 million households were recipients of this form of social assistance; by the end of that year this figure had reached 11.1 million families (Fried 2012: 1043). Ten years later, in 2014, there were 14 million households receiving this benefit, or about 56 million people (Góes and Karpowicz 2017: 12). Based on World Bank estimates, the Bolsa Família is credited with 58 percent of the decline in extreme poverty during the first decade of the program, and other similar cash-based social assistance programs are said to have been responsible for 21 percent of the reduction in inequality between 1995 and 2005, as measured by the Gini coefficient (Góes and Karpowicz 2017), which decreased from 0.59 to 0.53 between 2002 and 2013 (Costa 2018: 66). Inequality in Brazil has declined since 1998, most notably during the first decade of the twenty-first century, as indicated by the declining Gini

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index (Mendes 2014: 84). As Mendes points out, the timing suggests that democratization encouraged progressive policies that contribute to income redistribution. He explains why the decline in inequality was somewhat delayed following the transition to democracy: As such, even though the impetus for redistribution had been present since the beginning of democratization, effective redistribution began with the stabilization of inflation (in 1995), the increase of broader public transfer programs in 2001, the intensification of policies to raise the real value of minimum wage and the emergence of a dynamic favorable to less inequality in the private-labor market. (Mendes 2014: 96)

I would also argue that the socialist regimes that Brazil espoused during this period advanced the belief in social inclusion and the development of these social assistance policies, which resulted in the reduction in inequality. Brazil emerged from a protracted period of military dictatorship, which lasted from 1964 to 1985, enthusiastic for a democracy that would be built on social inclusion. The debt crisis of the 1980s thwarted that aspiration, as an increase in inequality, a decline in the GDP, and dramatic inflation, which reached 430 percent (Alston et al. 2016), were some of the indicators of the economic turmoil that characterized that period of Brazil’s history. Still, the 1988 Constitution was a hallmark of the fledgling democracy. Most notably within the context of this discussion on inequality, Article 6 stipulated several social rights, including health, education, labor, and assistance for the unprotected (Alston et al. 2016: 86). The early years of Brazil’s democracy were also marred by the impeachment and resignation of President Fernando Collor in 1992 after only two years in office. Collor was briefly succeeded by Itamar Franco, who appointed Fernando Henrique Cardoso as finance minister during this period of unwieldy inflation. Optimism accompanied Cardoso’s year-long tenure as Finance Minister, during which inflation declined, the GDP grew, and the economy finally stabilized (Alston et al. 2016: 96). Cardoso’s success as finance minister increased his popularity, empowering him to win the presidency in 1994. From Cardoso’s inauguration in 1995 until President Dilma Rousseff’s ousting in 2016, Brazil has been under the leadership of either the Brazilian Social Democracy Party/Partido da Social Democracia Brasileiro (PSDB) or the Workers’ Party/Partido dos Trabalhadores (PT), both of which were progressive in prioritizing the reduction of inequality. In common

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parlance, the PT would be considered left-leaning, while the PSDB would be considered center-right. Cardoso’s presidency ended after eight years, at which time Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva won the presidency, starting his term in 2003, followed by President Rousseff from 2011 to 2016. Although the PSDB generally rejects left/right categorization, because of the party’s espousal of neoliberalism and its aspiration to integrate Brazil into the global economy, it is widely perceived as centrist, while the PT has labelled it center-right. Some of the ambiguity lies in the seeming contradiction between neoliberal ideology and social programs, both of which were championed simultaneously under Cardoso’s leadership. Segrillo (2004) is critical of the labeling as he describes the transition of the party, the fluidity of ideological terminology, and the consequent difficulty in categorizing them. Rather, Pereira (2015: 1685) suggests that for the PSDB, “social programmes have been a compensatory mechanism to facilitate the larger, more important goal of globalisation and modernisation.” Like the PSDB, the Workers’ Party (PT) is also considered social democratic and unequivocally viewed as center-left, although it also eschews categorization along Cold War-era lines. The transition from the PSDB to the PT when Lula won the presidency was accompanied by the continuation of macroeconomic policies initiated under Cardoso’s government, despite Cardoso’s penchant for neoliberalism in contrast to Lula’s socialist inclination, a practice Foley (2019) refers to as “ideological ‘cross-­ dressing.’” Lula simultaneously strengthened social policies, the most lauded of which was the Bolsa Família (Alston et al. 2016: 128). Between 1995 and 2009 under the consecutive leadership of Cardoso and Lula, federal social spending grew by 146 percent, or 104 percent per capita, making Brazil a leader in social spending in Latin America during this period (Alston et al. 2016: 130). Programs established during the years of PSDB and PT leadership emphasized the reduction of inequality through income redistribution and expanded workers’ rights, including minimum wages. Despite Brazil’s sustained infamy as a country rife with inequality, data from the Institute for Applied Economic Research (IPEA) illustrate the success of redistributive programs, as both poverty and inequality declined significantly during the 2000s, with the percentage of the population living in poverty falling from 26 to 14 percent and the number of persons in extreme poverty declining from 10 to 5 percent (Hunter and Sugiyama 2017: 139). Concurrently, the size of the middle class as a percentage of the population rose from 31 percent in 1993 to 55 percent in 2011

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(Alston et al. 2016: 131). Alston et al. (2016: 129) argue, “Since 1985, Brazil has shifted from a high inequality–low redistribution social contract to the present lower (albeit still high) inequality–high redistribution contract.” In addition to monetary gains among the poorest segment of the Brazilian population, the Bolsa Família is also said to be responsible for improving the educational attainment of the children of recipient families. Rural girls between the ages of 15 and 17, for example, are 22.5 percent more likely to attend school if their families are recipients of the Bolsa Família (Hunter and Sugiyama 2017: 141). Pereira (2015) argues that the Bolsa Família alone was not responsible for the economic gains of this period, but rather a combination of social programs that also include those that improved access to education and increased the  minimum wage resulted in improved conditions among some of Brazil’s poorest. This overview of the slow but gradual improvements in the conditions that accompanied Brazil’s transition to democracy illustrates that under regimes that prioritize social inclusion, the country is capable of instituting policies that mitigate social problems such as poverty and unemployment. Moraes et al. (2015: 34) offer an example of a scenario in which the private sector has offered assistance to manual sugarcane harvesters to help them transition to other forms of employment: To overcome this job reduction, the private sector has provided training and skills programs for manual cutters through the Renovacão project, that is a partnership between UNICA, the Federation of Rural Workers in São Paulo State (Feraesp), the Solidaridad Foundation and supply-chain companies: Syngenta, John Deere and Case IH, with support from the Inter-American Development Bank (IADB). The Project provides specialized training for approximately 3000 workers per year in six of the major sugarcane producing areas in São Paulo. (Sugarcane.org 2014)

Similar programs are needed within the public sector, where the responsibility lies and which has demonstrated the capacity to implement successful poverty-reducing programs. However, whether such programs are actualized and whether they succeed is dependent on the administration holding leadership. That both right-leaning Cardoso and left-leaning Lula attained considerable success through their poverty reduction measures suggests that social programs need not be ascribed to a particular political system. Similarly, although there was much continuity between Lula and President Dilma Rousseff, who also represents the PT, the latter struggled

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to sustain the social advancements that were attained under Lula’s administration. Economic decline and a political climate under which she faced impeachment and removal from office hampered her efforts to maintain the trend toward greater equality. Following Rousseff’s ousting, Vice President Michel Temer succeeded her and quickly unraveled social programs that were developed to support the most disadvantaged members of Brazilian society, staunch to his commitment to foster fiscal austerity through the reduction of social spending (Costa 2018: 68). His cabinet was initially entirely white and male, only changing slightly following public outcry (Mitchell-Walthour 2018: 176). During his brief presidency, he abolished the agency responsible for abating racial and gender inequalities, executed a constitutional amendment to freeze social spending for 20 years, and generally supported business interests at the expense of the population’s social needs (Costa 2018: 68). When Bolsonaro was elected to the presidency in 2018, he further consolidated Temer’s efforts to make business interests paramount, regardless of the social costs. Bolsonaro’s rise to the presidency was made possible by what Hunter and Power (2019: 70) refer to as “a combination of fundamental background conditions (economic recession, corruption, and crime), political contingencies (most notably, the weakness of rival candidates), and a shakeup in campaign dynamics produced by the strategic use of social media.” Since his inauguration in 2019, Bolsonaro has launched a campaign of fiscal austerity, cutting spending in areas where the needs are most dire, such as education and social welfare programs. Popular protests have been met with disdain, as Bolsonaro has gained notoriety for his disparaging remarks directed at the poor, black, brown, gay, marginalized, and those who support social justice. For example, in response to a demonstration in which an estimated 1.5 million people protested against his budget cuts to universities, Bolsonaro was quoted saying, “most of the protesters are militants; their heads are empty. If you asked them for the formula of water, they do not know it; they are useful idiots and imbeciles manipulated by a minority” (Hurtado 2019). The backlash that Bolsonaro faces within Brazil for his regressive social policies extend to the global scale, as he faces international rebuke for his ill-informed environmental policies, which have resulted in budget cuts that limit the function and authority of the agencies responsible for environmental management in Brazil. As the world witnessed unprecedented fires in the Amazon rainforest in 2019, Bolsonaro was ostracized by some world leaders (notably not

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including the US president) for his reckless disregard for the repercussions of the destruction of the forest that is often referred to as the “lungs of the world.” Despite the progress that Cardoso and Lula made, especially when considered in comparison to Rousseff’s shortcomings and the regressive policies of Temer and Bolsonaro, these more progressive administrations remained constrained by their deference to conservative allies such as those who controlled sectors like agribusiness, mining, and banking. Costa (2018: 70) contends that it is these private sector obligations that compelled even the more progressive administrations to limit their redistributive efforts to social assistance rather than a more comprehensive overhaul of the taxation system, which has considerably greater potential to reduce inequality. There remains in Brazil a lack of sustained commitment to equality, perhaps based on the perception that in a more egalitarian society, there are fewer opportunities to exploit the working class.

Inequality as an Impediment to Brazil’s Progress With one of the largest economies in Latin America, a wealth of natural resources, and a fledgling but relatively stable democracy, Brazil has the potential to be an economic and political leader in the region. Its inclusion as a BRICS country demonstrates recognition on a global level. Economic growth and social improvements made during years of Cardoso’s and Lula’s leadership further strengthened the country’s image as a resilient and flourishing economy. However, the country is notoriously plagued by corruption, inequality, and crime. Although the economic decline that coincided with Dilma Rousseff’s truncated term in office diminished some of the progress made under Cardoso and Lula, there is widespread acknowledgment—at least on the left—that she was not responsible for the recession. Still, her reputation was blemished by the scandal surrounding her impeachment. Rousseff contends that the economy was thriving under her leadership (Rousseff 2019: 23), but the reality of the 2015–16 recession arguably factored into the loss of support that she faced. The criminal investigation referred to as Lava Jato (Operation Car Wash) coincided with the start of the economic recession and positioned Rousseff as a scapegoat for long-standing, rife corruption. Lava Jato has been lauded by some for holding corrupt public officials to account and decried by others for serving the political mission of keeping Lula and the left-leaning PT out of office. Aragão (2019: 54) contends, “The Lava Jato operation

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was conducted with considerable procedural violations and disrespect for the fundamental rights of those being investigated.” Besides Rousseff’s impeachment, which many Brazilians consider to be a coup d’état, the investigation resulted in Lula’s arrest. This barred him from candidacy for the presidency in 2018, effectively enabling Jair Bolsonaro’s victory. Leaked messages released in mid-2019 imply collusion between Sérgio Moro, the judge who presided over Lula’s conviction under Lava Jato, who has since been appointed Minister of Justice, and federal prosecutors who sought Lula’s conviction. US journalist Glenn Greenwald faced criminal cybercrime charges in Brazil related to his work exposing the questionable ethics of Operation Lava Jato. Although they were subsequently dismissed, these charges were widely considered to be a retaliatory act on the part of the Brazilian government and a threat to freedom of the press. This reinforces Aragão’s statement and casts doubt on the validity of both the way in which the investigation proceeded and the catalyst for its initiation. For both its supporters and its detractors, Operation Lava Jato served as admonishment that corrupt elected officials are not always treated with impunity. Still, Bolsonaro’s governance appears to be even more astounding, both on national and international levels. His brazenly racist, misogynistic, and homophobic remarks have shocked progressive Brazilians and the international community alike. His rise to power appears to have been successful because of, rather than in spite of, his unabashedly caustic approach to diplomacy, which has been compared to US president Donald Trump’s audacious ineptitude. However, Anderson (2019) argues, “In a number of ways, though, Bolsonaro trumps Trump,” referencing his verbal attacks on French President Emmanuel Macron, Pope Francis and his unfounded accusations that NGOs and environmental activists—whom he refers to as “greenies”—are responsible for the fires that ravaged the Amazon in late 2019. In September 2019, Brazil’s top indigenous chief Raoni Metuktire, who is a nominee for a Nobel Peace Prize, called for Bolsonaro’s resignation, echoing a growing sentiment. The sequence of events leading to Brazil’s current, ultraconservative administration has led to concerns regarding the state of the country’s democracy (Leal et al. 2018). What is potentially more troubling is the ominous outlook for Brazil’s social, political, and economic state. As a consequence of Bolsonaro’s regressive views and outlandish remarks, several clothing companies, including Timberland, North Face, and H&M, have announced that they would temporarily stop purchasing Brazilian leather, while several European countries have discontinued

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funding that they had previously allocated to the preservation of the Amazon (Anderson 2019). While Bolsonaro’s aggressive approach to governance may resemble that of Trump, Brazil does not yield the same economic power as the United States, so the repercussions may not be as forgiving, especially as Brazil faces ostracism from foreign leaders and corporations. The 2018 assassination of human rights activist Marielle Franco, who was also black and lesbian, symbolizes the precarity of Brazil’s social climate and evokes the political repression of the past. Bolsonaro’s frequent wistful references to the period of the military dictatorship is further cause for consternation. Lula, Rousseff, and the PT did not radically redistribute wealth or remove Brazil from the ranks of the most unequal countries in the world. However, the policies that they as well as Cardoso implemented represent a gradual transition toward greater equality. Today, the reversal of these policies does not bode well for Brazil’s poorest, including the sugarcane workers and former manual harvesters. Middle-class Brazilians such as educators are also facing dismal prospects, as the Bolsonaro regime radically curtails spending on education. While the presumption on the part of Bolsonaro’s supporters is that fiscal austerity leads to economic growth, inequality and the bigoted, misinformed approach to human beings and their environment threatens to forestall Brazil’s economic growth as well as its reputation. Even in the absence of compassion for the poorest members of the Brazilian population, Bolsonaro has incentive to strive for greater inclusivity and equality, as Brazil’s global position depends on its reputation.

Conclusion Manual harvesting of sugarcane is unsustainable and the demise of this type of labor is inevitable. Eliminating manual sugarcane harvesting and transitioning workers to other industries in which they encounter similar problems of poor working conditions maintains the status quo of inequality along racial and regional lines. Brazilian seasonal migrant workers struggle against a colonial history that continues to exclude them from the full benefits that citizenship implies. However, the loss of employment may impose pressure on the state and federal governments to create opportunities that will lessen the impetus to work under conditions that threaten the lives and dignity of workers. Migrant sugarcane workers’ willingness to travel across the country, where they endure for-

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midable ­working conditions, illustrates their disposition to improve their own lives, while their demands for improved conditions reveals the agency they maintain despite their circumstances. Nonetheless, the workers’ limitations are evident in the impending elimination of their livelihoods, while the widespread retrenchment of this workforce is presenting an opportunity to the Brazilian government to demonstrate its commitment to social inclusion. As Costa (2018: 69) argues, “states remain the key actors for promoting the mitigation of domestic inequalities created by economic interactions in capitalist societies.” The social and fiscal choices of different administrations in the last few decades of Brazil’s history and the outcomes of these choices indicate that the state does indeed have the sovereignty to effect change. In light of Brazil’s influential position in the global economy, whether aspirational or actual, the plight of displaced sugarcane workers presents the current and future administrations with the opportunity to uphold democracy, to govern inclusively, and to maintain or even accelerate Brazil’s protracted course toward a more equal society.

References Alston, Lee J., Marcus André Melo, Bernardo Mueller, and Carlos Pereira. 2016. Brazil in Transition: Beliefs, Leadership, and Institutional Change. Princeton: Princeton University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400880942. Anderson, Jon Lee. 2019. At the U.N., Jair Bolsonaro Presents a Surreal Defense of his Amazon Policies. New Yorker, September 24. https://www.newyorker. com/news/daily-comment/at-the-united-nations-jair-bolsonaro-presents-asurreal-defense-of-his-amazon-policies. Accessed 25 Sept 2019. Aragão, Eugenio. 2019. Lava Jato and the Perversion of Brazilian Justice. In In Spite of You: Bolsonaro and the New Brazilian Resistance, ed. Conor Foley. New York: OR Books. Bell, Shannon Elizabeth, and Richard York. 2010. Community Economic Identity: The Coal Industry and Ideology Construction in West Virginia. Rural Sociology 75 (1): 111–143. Costa, Sérgio. 2018. Entangled Inequalities, State, and Social Policies in Contemporary Brazil. In The Social Life of Economic Inequalities in Contemporary Latin America: Decades of Change, ed. Margit Ystanes and Iselin Åsedotter Strønen, 1st ed. Cham: Springer International Publishing. https:// doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-61536-3. Doan, Lynn, Brian Eckhouse, Christopher Cannon, and Hannah Recht. 2019. What’s Behind the World’s Biggest Climate Victory? Capitalism. Bloomberg,

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September 15. https://www.bloomberg.com/graphics/2019-can-renewableenergy-power-the-world/. Accessed 16 Sept 2019. Foley, Conor, ed. 2019. In Spite of You: Bolsonaro and the New Brazilian Resistance. New York: OR Books. Fried, Brian J. 2012. Distributive Politics and Conditional Cash Transfers: The Case of Brazil’s Bolsa Família. World Development 40 (5): 1042–1053. https:// doi.org/10.1016/j.worlddev.2011.09.022. Góes, Carlos, and Izabela Karpowicz. 2017. Inequality in Brazil: A Regional Perspective. IMF Working Paper, International Monetary Fund. Gross, Samantha. 2019. Why There’s no Bringing Coal Back. Planetpolicy, Brookings Institution. January 16. https://www.brookings.edu/blog/planetpolicy/2019/01/16/why-theres-no-bringing-coal-back/. Accessed 13 Sept 2019. Higgins, Sean, and Claudiney Pereira. 2014. The Effects of Brazil’s Taxation and Social Spending on the Distribution of Household Income. Public Finance Review 42 (3): 346–367. Hunter, Wendy, and Timothy Power. 2019. Bolsonaro and Brazil’s Illiberal Backlash. Journal of Democracy 30 (1): 68–82. https://doi.org/10.1353/ jod.2019.0005. Hunter, Wendy, and Natasha Borges Sugiyama. 2017. Assessing the Bolsa Família: Successes, Shortcomings, and Unknowns. In Democratic Brazil Divided, ed. Peter R.  Kingstone and Timothy J.  Power. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Hurtado, María Elena. 2019. 1.5 Million Protest Against Bolsonaro’s University Cuts. University World News, May 17. https://www.universityworldnews. com/post.php?story=20190517091908837. Accessed 24 Sept 2019. Kulkarni, Kishore G., and Heather G.  Randall. 2014. Income Inequality and Human Development: Brazil 2004–2012. SCMS Journal of Indian Management 11 (3): 16–25. Leal, Fabíola Xavier, Jane Cruz Prates, and Maria Lucia Teixeira Garcia. 2018. Brazil: A Country in Mourning and Struggle. Critical and Radical Social Work 6 (2): 247–257. https://doi.org/10.1332/204986018X15321004065258. Lustig, Nora, Luis F. Lopez-Calva, and Eduardo Ortiz-Juarez. 2012. Declining Inequality in Latin America in the 2000s: The Cases of Argentina, Brazil, and Mexico. The World Bank, Latin America and the Caribbean Region, Poverty, Equity and Gender Unit, Policy Research Working Paper 6248, October. https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/bitstream/handle/10986/12089/ wps6248.pdf;sequence=1. Accessed 16 Sept 2019. Mendes, Marcos. 2014. Inequality, Democracy and Growth in Brazil: A Country at the Crossroads of Economic Development. 1st ed. London: Elsevier.

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Mitchell-Walthour, Gladys L. 2018. The Politics of Blackness: Racial Identity and Political Behavior in Contemporary Brazil. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Moraes, Marcia Azanha Ferraz Dias de, and Margarida Garcia de Figueiredo. 2008. Voluntary Migration of Workers in the Sugar and Ethanol Sector. Labor Market Extension and Outreach Group, ESALQ/USP. Unpublished Report. https://lawsdocbox.com/Immigration/81440045-Research-report-labormarket-extension-and-outreach-group-project-voluntary-migration-of-workers-in-the-sugar-and-ethanol-sector.html. Accessed 10 Sept 2018. Moraes, Márcia Azanha Ferraz Dias, Fabíola Cristina Ribeiro Oliveira, and Rocio A.  Diaz-Chavez. 2015. Socio-Economic Impacts of Brazilian Sugarcane Industry. Environmental Development 16: 31–43. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. envdev.2015.06.010. Newcomb, Richard. 1978. The American Coal Industry. Current History 74: 193–229. Pereira, Anthony W. 2015. Bolsa Família and Democracy in Brazil. Third World Quarterly 36 (9): 1682–1699. https://doi.org/10.1080/01436597.2 015.1059730. Robertson, Campbell. 2019. In Coal Country, the Mines Shut Down, the Women Went to Work and the World Quietly Changed. New York Times, September 14. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/14/us/appalachia-coal-womenwork-.html. Accessed 15 Sept 2019. Rosendo, Jussara dos Santos, and Patrícia Francisca de Matos. 2017. Social Impacts with the End of the Manual Sugarcane Harvest: A Case Study in Brazil. Sociology International Journal 1 (4): 121–125. Rousseff, Dilma. 2019. The Truth That Affirms Itself. In In Spite of You: Bolsonaro and the New Brazilian Resistance, ed. Conor Foley. New York: OR Books. Salardi, Paola. 2005. How Much of Brazilian Inequality Can We Explain? An Attempt of Income Differentials Decomposition Using the PNAD 2002. Unpublished Manuscript. http://www-3.unipv.it/webdept/prin/workpv05. pdf. Accessed 17 Sept 2019. Segrillo, Angelo. 2004. A confusão esquerda/direita no mundo pós-Muro de Berlim: uma análise e uma hipótese. DADOS: Revista de Ciencias Sociais 47 (3): 615–632. https://doi.org/10.1590/S0011-52582004000300006. UNICA Sustainability Report. 2010. http://sugarcane.org/wp-content/ uploads/2018/04/Sustainability.pdf. Accessed 1 Sept 2019.

Index

A Affirmative action, 35, 83, 91 B Biofuels, 3, 4 Bóias-frias, 49 Bolsa Família, 103, 105, 106 Burning (of sugarcane), 56–61, 100 C Census, 6, 9, 84, 85, 87, 88 Citizenship, 2, 5, 17, 24, 30, 77–80, 93, 110 Civic ostracism, 91, 93 Colonization, 10, 27, 35 D Discrimination, 3, 4, 12, 18, 30, 33, 35, 37, 38, 44, 47, 64, 65, 74, 76–78, 80, 83, 86, 88–92, 98

E Education, 3, 6–8, 12, 36, 61, 67, 74–76, 78, 80, 87, 88, 90, 93, 99, 102–104, 106, 107, 110 Empreiteiros, 29, 65, 66 G Gatos, 29, 66 Gini index, 103–104 Globalization, 12–15 H Health, 3, 5, 8, 12, 17, 31, 38, 48, 55–56, 58–62, 65, 98–101, 103, 104 Housing, 17, 28, 29, 52, 65–67 Hypodescent, 77 I Injury, 5, 53, 55, 98 Internal colonialism, 3, 4, 17, 21–38, 48, 97, 100

© The Author(s) 2020 T.-A. Jones, Sugarcane Labor Migration in Brazil, Mobility & Politics, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35671-2

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INDEX

L Landless movement, 10–13 Latifundia, 8–10 M Maranhão, 4, 6, 29, 54, 64, 65, 78 Mechanical harvesters, 2, 59–61 Mechanization, 5, 7, 14, 18, 58–62, 67, 98–100, 102 Mestiçagem, 75, 79, 80 Movimento Sem Terra, 11 N National Ethanol Program, 14 Neoliberalism, 105

R Race, 18, 36, 45, 74, 76, 77, 80, 81, 83–88, 90, 93, 102 Racial democracy, 35, 74–77, 79, 90 Racism, 35, 36, 74–77, 81, 82, 86, 88, 90–92 Recruitment, 2, 65–66 S Strike, 55, 62–64, 66, 79 U Unemployment, 5, 11, 14, 16, 24, 26–28, 32, 48, 61, 62, 98, 106 Unions, 64, 86

O Oil crisis, 3, 14 Operation Car Wash (Lava Jato), 108

W Wages, 4, 5, 14, 24, 26, 27, 31, 32, 43, 44, 47, 50–52, 55, 62–66, 100, 102, 104–106 World-systems analysis, 22, 23, 27, 48

P Proálcool, 14, 15

X Xenophobia, 17, 91