The old Brazilian saying, “Só para inglês ver,” started off as a literal description. In 1831, Great Britain, the world’s dominant maritime force, pressured Brazil into outlawing the slave trade. Brazil’s slavers had no intention of agreeing to such an unreasonable restriction, but appeasement accomplished the same thing as resistance, without the risk of open conflict. So the law stayed on the books, as Brazil continued to import more slaves than it had in previous decades—many times more slaves, for that matter, than were being sold in the rest of the world combined. The law existed, in effect, just for the English to see.

Today, the expression is shorthand for the boundless cynicism of Brazil’s ruling class, for all the myriad ways in which it conjures the illusion of progress while precluding the possibility of change. The invaluable folks over at RioOnWatch identify three recurring categories:

First are the very visible, expensive architectural projects which look nice but are seen as pandering to tourists rather than serving favela residents’ true needs. Second are the projects which are launched with great fanfare and wide-ranging promises, but are then only partially completed, poorly maintained, or dropped altogether. And finally, the mega-events legacy projects that generate pleasing soundbites but have little connection to reality.

The 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics could fit any of those descriptions or all of them. And on the eve of the opening ceremony, it is worth examining how Brazil got to this point.



Só para inglês ver implies something important about the nature of power in Brazil. In a society defined by its gross inequality, the ruling class has thrived, in large part, because of the outside world’s indulgence. Especially now, with so many cameras in attendance, its survival depends on the foreigner’s inability or unwillingness to see.

The first time Rio’s Valongo Wharf was renovated, it was for the sake of Italian sensibilities, not English. Dom Pedro II, the recently crowned emperor of Brazil, had been betrothed to a princess from Naples. In anticipation of her arrival in 1843, the decision was made to bury under a new wharf what had been, according to all contemporaneous accounts, a place of unmitigated depravity and suffering.