Henry Staples
@drhenrystaples
“For those seeking to uncover – and redress – the harsh and tragic nature of conflict, deciding what to foreground and what to withhold presents a serious challenge.”
How do grassroots organisations navigate the dilemma of whether to showcase or withhold everyday violence? Reflecting on my research on the ‘pacification’ of Complexo do Alemão, Rio de Janeiro’s largest and most notorious favela, this blog explores the tough decisions residents make about what to disclose and what to conceal, and the implications this has for researchers in building bridges between academia and activism.
A tale of two cities
Rio de Janeiro holds a special place in the public imagination. The city’s major drug-trafficking organisations emerged during the 1970s when political prisoners mixed with the general population, later forming a collective and establishing territorial control in many favelas (an umbrella term for working-class neighbourhoods, like ghetto or slum). Through violence, intimidation and occasional displays of concern for residents’ welfare, these actors achieved a kind of perverse integration. But this only exacerbated a longstanding divide between favela and asfalto (“asphalt,” or “formal” city), justifying a heavy-handed state response. In the first half of 2008, police committed one out of every five intentional killings across the city.
Complexo do Alemão is a confluence of 13 favelas where nearly two-thirds of residents earn less than the minimum wage. Once dubbed the ‘heart of evil’ owing to the presence of Comando Vermelho, Rio’s oldest and largest drug gang, such sweeping generalisations stigmatise the population and inhibit integration. Residents lament never being interviewed by news organisations when violence occurs.
In response, grassroots organisations have for years sought to challenge the prevailing narrative of violence, creating alternative media platforms to showcase residents’ perspectives and “open opportunities for a new way of being in the city.” This includes Barraco#55, Alemão’s first cultural, artistic and academic exchange centre.
Barraco#55 cover art
Source: https://dutchculture.nl/en/location/barraco-55
Pacification
Inspired by military operations in Tijuana (Mexico), Kingston (Jamaica), and the displacement of guerrilla combatants from Medellin (Colombia), the Pacifying Police Unit (UPP) program was launched in 2008, promising to reclaim favelas from armed actors before investing in key public services.
The ‘pacification’ of Complexo do Alemão was originally scheduled for 2011, but a wave of violence moved this to November 2010, with control passing from the army to the police two years later.
Late one night in October 2014, I arrived in Alemão by taxi and was immediately aware of heavily-armed police patrolling or stationed on corners. It soon became clear that Comando Vermelho were still fiercely contesting the territory. As one resident, Marcus, explained: “Now we have two antagonistic powers inside a place …we are on the other side of the gun all the time, we don’t have guns. Police have guns, and bandits have guns – we have eyes and ears.”[1]
Aligned Narratives of Concealment
The state government launched a concerted marketing campaign publicising the effectiveness of the UPP programme in combating violence. Yet confrontations between police and gang members continued, with 2014 being the most violent year since the policy began.
For some activists like Elena, who oversaw guest visits to Barraco#55, disassociating favela from violence could reap long-term benefits: “If people talk about the violence, it means it’s still violent, so the state is going to implement more police, which causes more violence.”[2] Such pragmatic avoidance is one of many possible everyday strategies which can disrupt longstanding conflict narratives.
Art and music formed a key element of such disruption. The local collective, O som do Barraco, which I joined, sought to illuminate Alemão’s underestimated cultural wealth and promote what political activist Alberto called a constructive message: “we’re showing to people outside the wall of Alemão that we aren’t idiots.”[3]
I found myself tacitly supporting this strategy. One night I was caught near a shootout. After running home – very shaken up – I met two recently-arrived German guests who were visiting for a few days. Not wanting to propagate a damaging narrative, and remembering Elena’s words to me, I decided not to recount the experience to them. Momentarily at least, it appeared that state, grassroots and researcher jointly favoured concealment.
Policy failure and continued exceptionality
Owing to widespread media interest in the UPP, many grassroots organisations enjoyed unprecedented international attention, receiving award nominations for their human rights work.
For these activists, a newfound voice and public image provided an opportunity to showcase the failures of pacification, even if this perpetuated a stereotypical favela discourse. Beyond conventional gang-related conflict, many highlighted what they saw as under-reported violence directly caused by police presence: “It’s sad to know that we are being remembered for this violence, but at the same time we’re sharing this information that the mainstream media isn’t showing!!!”[4]
Graffiti in Complexo do Alemão ‘UPP kill the innocent’ (Source: Author’s own)
Ultimately the UPP did not achieve the promised reductions in violence: evident by changes to grassroots strategies during my stay. Despite their best efforts, Barraco#55 were forced to abandon their guest programme and, when I returned some years later, I found they were no longer active.
Police actions in favelas were temporarily prohibited during the 2020 Covid-19 outbreak. But operations continued shortly after and, in July 2022, 20 Alemão residents were killed in a police intervention. It appears concealment is no longer viable: human rights organisations continue to issue warnings about the militarisation of the struggle against crime, while residents speak openly about their unmet expectations.
Concluding thoughts
For those seeking to uncover – and redress – the harsh and tragic nature of conflict, deciding what to foreground and what to withhold presents a serious challenge. Just as Rio de Janeiro’s ‘pacification’ ultimately reinforced the city’s centuries-old dualisation, it also revealed divergent opinions among those most affected. Research-practice collaborations draw such differences into sharp focus, as our work is bound up in how we describe places affected by violence.
The dilemma outlined in this blog piece speaks closely to the idea of everyday peace as a series of strategies designed to minimise conflict, which nevertheless may conceal and even perpetuate uneven power relations. Researchers, too, must wrestle with the potential implications that accompany concealment and disclosure; balancing the risk of perpetuating conflict narratives against the realities of violence as we encounter them.
If we opt for concealment, in order not to act contrary to activists’ immediate efforts, perhaps – as one Alemão activist asserted – disclosure is the only long-term choice: “We cannot hide the reality, because only then can we change it someday.”[5]
[1] Interview with Marcos (a pseudonym), 23 October 2014.
[2] Interview with Elena (a pseudonym), 19 November 2014.
[3] Interview with Alberto (a pseudonym), 17 November 2014.
[4] Rene Silva Facebook Post, 3 April 2015. https://www.facebook.com/ReneSilvaSantos/posts/881562645241231
[5] Rene Silva Facebook Post (public comment), 3 April 2015. https://www.facebook.com/ReneSilvaSantos/posts/881562645241231
