The city's dialogue with the blocks simply does not exist
In São Paulo, a dispute over when the city's beloved street carnival may return has exposed a deeper tension between institutional caution and cultural belonging. Mayor Ricardo Nunes, citing the logistical demands of security and infrastructure, has barred the neighborhood blocos from parading before September at the earliest — a decision that block organizers, who feel excluded from the very conversation that shaped it, are openly defying. The standoff is not merely about dates on a calendar; it is about who holds authority over the forms of celebration that cities generate from the ground up, and whether governance can make room for the spontaneous life of its people.
- Mayor Nunes has drawn a firm line: no street parades in April, May, June, or July, insisting that police coordination and event infrastructure require more than thirty days to arrange.
- Block organizers representing roughly 85% of São Paulo's official blocos left a meeting with four municipal secretaries feeling unheard, pointing out that sports events and samba school parades had already been permitted since Covid cases fell.
- The wound runs deeper than logistics — when the city canceled the 2022 street carnival in January, it consulted the samba schools but simply notified the blocos, a slight that organizers have not forgotten.
- The city has offered a support program paying up to 5,700 reais per group for performances at libraries and cultural centers, but organizers are clear: subsidized library shows are not the same as the right to parade through their own streets.
- With no agreed date and the city unmoved, the blocks have announced they will parade regardless — leaving the standoff unresolved and the street carnival's future suspended in uncertainty.
On April 11th, São Paulo Mayor Ricardo Nunes made his position plain: the city's street carnival blocos will not parade in April, and likely not before September. Speaking at a municipal event downtown, he cited the military police's need for more than thirty days to transfer officers from the interior, alongside the time required to issue permits, arrange medical services, and install barriers. "If it's September, we're locked in," he said — framing the restriction not as refusal but as responsible governance.
Block organizers hear it differently. Six organizations representing roughly 85% of the city's official blocos met with municipal secretaries on April 8th and left without resolution. Their frustration is sharpened by a sense of selective enforcement: São Paulo has permitted sports events, music festivals, and samba school parades at Anhembi since Covid cases declined. Why, they ask, does the street carnival face a different standard?
The grievance beneath the logistics is about process. When the city canceled the 2022 street carnival in January, the samba schools received a conversation about postponement; the blocos received a cancellation. Thaís Haliski of the Women's Commission of São Paulo's Street Carnival described the April 8th meeting as a performance of dialogue with no actual openness — officials declared there was no time and asked the blocks to assume their own security, offering nothing in return. "The city's dialogue with the blocks simply does not exist," she said.
The city has launched a funding initiative, contracting at least three hundred small street parades to perform at libraries and community spaces for up to 5,700 reais per group — an acknowledgment of the income lost during two years without carnival. But organizers are not appeased. Money for library performances is not permission to parade through neighborhoods.
The blocks have said they will march regardless. The city has not formally responded. What remains is a calendar with no agreed date, a government insisting on time it says it doesn't have, and cultural organizers who believe the conversation that should have happened months ago never truly began.
São Paulo's mayor has drawn a line in the sand over when the city's street carnival can happen, and it's created a standoff that shows no signs of breaking. Ricardo Nunes, speaking at a municipal event in downtown São Paulo on April 11th, made clear that the street parades—the spontaneous, neighborhood-based blocos that have long been the city's answer to the more formal samba school competitions—will not happen in April, May, June, or July. The city, he said, will only permit them when safety can be guaranteed. That means September, ideally, or possibly another holiday that doesn't collide with existing municipal obligations.
The problem, from the city's perspective, is straightforward: there isn't enough time. The military police need more than thirty days to coordinate the transfer of hundreds or thousands of officers from the interior to the capital for large-scale events. The city needs time to issue permits, secure sponsorships, arrange medical tents and ambulances, install barriers. None of this can happen by April. When Nunes says September is acceptable—"If it's September, we're locked in," he declared—he's speaking from the position of someone who has done the math on logistics.
But the block organizers hear something different. They hear a city that has found reasons to say no, and they're not convinced those reasons are genuine. Six organizations representing roughly eighty-five percent of the city's official blocos met with four municipal secretaries on April 8th at the Cultural Center, and the conversation went nowhere. The organizers left frustrated, feeling unheard. They point out that São Paulo has permitted sports events, music festivals, and the samba school parades at the Anhembi stadium since Covid cases dropped. Why not street parades? Why the sudden concern about infrastructure and safety?
The deeper grievance is about process. When the city canceled the 2022 street carnival in January, it did so without consulting the block organizers first. The samba schools got a conversation about postponement; the blocos got a cancellation. Thaís Haliski, who coordinates the Women's Commission of São Paulo's Street Carnival, was blunt about what happened in the April 8th meeting: the city said it wanted dialogue, but its posture was intransigent. The officials simply stated there wasn't time to organize and demanded that the blocks themselves assume responsibility for security—without offering any alternative proposal. "The city's dialogue with the blocks simply does not exist," Haliski said.
Zé Cury, president of the Street Blocks Forum, has his own objection to the city's proposed dates. June, which the culture secretary floated as a possibility, overlaps with the season of festas juninas—the traditional June festivals that already draw many of the same blocks and cultural workers. August or September makes more sense to him, though he's skeptical the city will actually follow through. Pedro Anacleto, from the Ocupa collective, agrees: June is too soon for blocks to organize, and the later months of the year—even close to election season—would work better.
Meanwhile, the city has launched a support program for the blocks themselves. The culture secretary promised in January to create a funding initiative, and it finally materialized in early April. The city will contract at least three hundred small street parades to perform at municipal cultural centers, libraries, and community spaces, paying up to 5,700 reais per group. It's meant to help peripheral blocks that lost income during nearly two years without carnival revenue or sponsorships. But money for performances at libraries is not the same as permission to parade through the streets.
The blocks say they will parade anyway. The city has not officially responded to that threat. What remains is a calendar with no agreed-upon date, a city government insisting it needs time and safety guarantees, and cultural organizers who feel they've been shut out of a conversation that should have happened months ago. The street carnival—the form of celebration that belongs to neighborhoods and ordinary people, not institutions—sits suspended, waiting for someone to move.
Citas Notables
If it's September, we're locked in. I'll have time to issue permits, but not during Corpus Christi. We won't mix street carnival with a religious holiday.— Mayor Ricardo Nunes
The city said it wanted dialogue, but its posture was always intransigent, without giving the block entities a chance to respond. They simply said there wasn't time and want us to assume all responsibility for safety.— Thaís Haliski, coordinator of the Women's Commission of São Paulo's Street Carnival
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does the mayor think September works when April doesn't? Is it really just about police logistics?
On the surface, yes—thirty days to coordinate officers, time to issue permits, arrange infrastructure. But the blocks hear something else: a city that's found a reason to say no and is hiding behind logistics.
Did the city consult with the blocks before canceling in January?
No. That's the wound. The samba schools got a conversation about postponement. The blocks got a cancellation with no warning, no dialogue. That's why they feel erased.
The mayor says other events—sports, music festivals—have been allowed. How do the blocks respond to that?
They point to it as proof the safety argument is selective. If the city can manage crowds at a music festival, why not street parades? It feels like the blocks are being treated as less legitimate.
What about June? The culture secretary proposed it.
The blocks rejected it immediately. June is when the festas juninas happen—traditional celebrations that already pull the same cultural workers and energy. It's the wrong season for street carnival.
So what's the city actually offering them?
A funding program to hire blocks for performances at libraries and cultural centers. Money, yes, but not permission to do what they actually do—parade through the streets. It's a consolation prize, not a solution.
Will the blocks parade anyway?
They've said they will. The city hasn't officially responded. It's a standoff with no clear exit.