Initially written in 2010, this analysis is still relevant.

Copenhagen Redux: An Investigation of Cases of Emergency in Rio de Janeiro in the Face of 2016 Olympic Games

May 7, 2010

            On October 4, 2009, Rio de Janeiro dazzled the International Olympic Committee in Copenhagen with videos which, directed by Fernando Meirelles (Cidade de Deus [City of God]), characterized Rio and its citizens by their “paz [peace],” “diversidade [diversity],” “alegria [happiness],” “juventude [youth],” “determinação [determination],” “espírito olímpico [olympic spirit],” and “união dos povos [union of peoples],” (“Rio 2016 Bid Video”) summed up in a slogan: “A paixão nos une [The passion unites us]” (“A Paixão Nos Une (Sem Cortes)”). Thousands of Rio’s millions of citizens flocked to Copacabana beach to commemorate the reception of the 2016 Olympic bid. The crowd echoed and amplified the joyful tears of national icons in Copenhagen by singing and dancing into the night, hailing a sort of premature Carnaval. Festivities aside, the international community could not ignore Meirelles’ past work, Cidade de Deus (2002), a portrayal of Rio de Janeiro through one of the many poverty-and-violence-afflicted favelas (“slums”) that compose much of the city mosaic.

The spotlight of the International Olympic Committee on Rio over the next six years gathers Mierielles’ conflicting images of united celebration and a city corrupted by violence on the same stage—a framework whose concerning hypocrisy cries for Rio’s government, the prefeitura, to effectuate a rational response. I wish to investigate some divisive effects past policy has had on the favelados (citizens of the favelas) and contrast them with recent policy leading up to and following the Olympic bid reception in Copenhagen to see if the prefeitura conducts its policy in the heart of Olympic spirit. An analysis of government responses to cases of emergency in Rio de Janeiro hopes to see how city officials care for and maintain a city already deemed as deserving of the 2016 Olympic games.

Rio de Janeiro has to face the music and assume a responsible role on the world stage if it wishes to effectuate its narrative of beautiful diversity displayed in Copenhagen. In hopes of reconciling their image as a cosmopolitan first-world city with the notorious history of violence that has persisted for decades, the government has adopted a new plan for city development, which allegedly seeks a peaceful solution to security threats.

Secretary of Security José Mariano Beltrame heads a campaign (created in 2008) called Unidade de Polícia Pacificadora [Unit of Pacifying Police], (UPP) which has already established “tranquil” police occupation in seven of Rio’s many favelas (“Polícia tem expectativa de novos confrontos no Pavão-Pavãozinho [Police have expectations of new confrontations in Pavão-Pavãozinho], November 30, 2009). Juan Forero’s “In Brazil’s Slums, Police Try a Softer Touch,” reports on the positive results of one such case in favela Dona Marta in south Rio (NPR.org 12/1/2009). However, Forero also highlights that in 2008, Rio’s police operations “killed more than 1,100 people” (of which few cases were investigated) under the authority of what the UN has called “murderous and self-defeating” policy. This contradiction may point to the continuation of questionably peaceful tactics (in the case of the UPP), but it also may point to the concurrent deployment of different species of police tactics (the UPP and other operations). City officials—now funded by the International Olympic Committee and tax dollars—have a means to dissolve violence which has perpetuated for years, but may be misappropriating these funds. Before I arrive to a full discussion of this city plan, I want to recover a slice of Rio’s history of policy and its effects on the people.

A History of Violence:

Historically, Rio de Janeiro’s prefeitura has shown little respect for its urban poor. Mike Davis’ “Haussmann in the Tropics” in Planet of Slums tracks city beautification plans exercised in third world metropolises, and finds that Rio de Janeiro has been especially representative of such executions. He notes how Rio de Janeiro “is a famous case” in which “slum clearance has been going on for generations,” a practice which “gained irresistible momentum in the 1970’s as land values exploded” (99). The eviction of 139,000 favelados between 1965 and 1974 describes the scope of the casuality with which Rio’s prefeitura has violated its people (102). These data (from the era of Brazil’s military dictatorship) show part of a history of legitimate force demonstrated in Rio de Janeiro; they do not suggest that favelados can expect such evictions over the next 6 years, but rather a similar kind of discrimination.

Mike Davis observes that “city beautification” plans in Olympic cities have displaced tens of thousands of people to pave the way for the arena of champions (106, 107). If the rise of land values in the 70’s paralleled a mass eviction of tens of thousands, the arrival of the Olympic Games (an opportunity whose smooth operation could impress Brazil’s image on the global market) elevates the bar of expectations to a dizzying standard whose attainment can be sure to contract the fear muscles of the urban poor. Davis echoes these qualms:

In the urban Third World, poor people dread high profile international events—conferences, dignitary visits, sporting events, beauty contests, and international festivals—that prompt authorities to launch crusades to clean up the city.  Slum dwellers know that they are the “dirt” and “blight” that the governments prefer the world not to see. (104)

Davis points out here the acculturation of violence which slum dwellers incorporate as a regularity in their lives because of repeated cleanup programs. It follows that each iteration of violent “crusades” in such situations diminishes the people’s receptivity to help from a government historically recognized through aggressive force. Should Rio’s prefeitura begin to seek a proactive preparation for the Olympics that considers the needs of the urban poor, the favelados they have mistreated for years may hesitate to accept—and may possibly reject—such help.

MV Bill and Celso Athayde’s documentary-turned-text Falcão: Meninos de Tráfico [Falcon: Boys of [Drug] Trafficking] amplifies the internal perspective of those (the drug factions, police’s alleged main targets) who live to protect the favelas from police invasion or involvement. They follow 17 juvenile drug pushers (all of whose fathers died or disappeared) over 9 years (during which 16 of them die) and find that a cycle of violence and lack of money in the family are often what lead the kids into crime, but what especially reinforces the boys’ valorization of their life is a desire to protect “a comunidade [the community]” from the police. An outsider who observes this quick resort to an abbreviated life due to crime asks, “Why not live outside this hellish[1] environment?”

MV Bill, in a chapter titled, “Partida de Futebol” [Soccer Game], interviews a few kids on a soccer field to learn about their lives of crime, hopes and dreams, and what prevents them from leaving. When he asks a boy (Green Shirt) if he “pensou alguma vez em ser artista, jogador [thought sometime of being [an] artist, [soccer] player],” the boy responds:

…Como já te disse várias vezes, a oportunidade é pouca.  Tu chega só pra estudar, pra ser alguem na vida, chega lá no colégio, não tem vaga, é a mesma discriminação de sempre, olham pra nós meio atravessado, volta mês que vem, e aí vai, né, mano… […I already told you several times, the opportunity [to leave the drug life] is small. You finally decide to try to study, to be somebody in life, you arrive at the school, but there’s no space, it’s the same discrimination as always, [they] look at us kinda incredulously, say come back next month, and then, so it goes, right, man?...] (175)

The exasperation of this boy when he finds himself “finally” trying to leave his poor situation echoes the depth of his acculturation to a system which provides a small outlet of help for a large population of afflicted poor, a classic example of what Philip Bourgois defines as “structural violence” (Bourgois in Bourgois and Scheper-Hughes, 426). Traditionally, any encounter with the government (whether it be from invading police or from inadequately managed/funded public systems) for favelados presents an identifier of violence. While quick recourse to life as a drug pusher after one attempt to leave cannot be excused, that the opposition Green Shirt faces when he turns to the government for help is not a unique or isolated case amongst favelados elucidates the circumstances which lead one to imagine a life of crime as a viable option. When Bill asks another boy (White Shirt) if he ever thought about leaving the drug trade (“já pensou em sair?”) he responds:

“Isso daí é nosso único objetivo, sair dessa vida. Mas como? A sociedade não dá oportunidade pra nós, pô, nôs temos que viver nessa aí mesmo, de drogas, tráfico. Porra, se um dia eles derem oportunidade, eu pretendo sair dess, mas, por enquanto, minha vida é essa daí mesmo. Daqui eu não saio, daqui vem nossa sobrevivência, tá ligado, mano? [This is our only objective, to get out of this life. But how? The society doesn’t give us opportunity, we really gotta live this way, [the way] of drugs, trafficking. If one day they might give the opportunity, I’ll try to get out, but for now, my life really is this one here.  From here I do not exit, from here comes our survival, understand, man?]” (173).

Even the drug traffickers (members of the favela who present the greatest threat to the community itself) clearly want to get out of the drug trade which invites police attention, but they cannot because the government provides no alternative. Green Shirt describes exactly why the cycle of violence perpetuates:

“Se o governo não melhorar nada, tá predestinado a seguir o mesmo caminho que o nosso aí… (gritinhos de crianças ao fundo) e isso aí é uma coisa que como pai eu nao quero.  Nem pro meu filho, nem pro meu vizinho, nem pra ninguém.  Então, se o governo não melhorar nada nesse país, amanhã ou depois, é o retrato dele que está aqui no meu lugar. [If the government might not improve, it’s predestined to follow the same path as ours here… (little shouts of children in the background) and this here is one thing, as a father, I do not want. Not for my son, not for my neighbor, not for anybody. Thus, if the government might not improve anything in this country, tomorrow or afterwards, it’s the portrait [of the government] that is here in my place] (174). 

Green Shirt astutely observes how each policy the government institutes which neglects the favelados only provides more fodder for the social “problems” it would like to see disappear. As much as the boys might want to change, the government provides no means for them to do so and they end up doing what they can to sustain their families.

Planned and Unexpected War in Favelas:

            Police that enter into favelas know they fight against people whose passionate defense of their livelihoods drives their fight against the police. A history of violence has reinforced its necessity in police mentality, a fear which prevents police from imagining the members of the community as people who want their help. Rio police officer Sgt. Gilson, quoted in Juan Forero’s December 2, 2009 article, believes that “a heavy hand is necessary in violent slums,” that “if police ‘show weakness,’ they will lose” a “war” in which he believes “deaths are a necessary byproduct” (NPR.org). Police primed for violent approaches becomes agents of violence and dehumanize the very humans they conscript themselves to help.

Juan Forero’s article does describe new approaches being developed to help those in the favela who are not in criminally recognized factions. Captain Pricilla Azevedo believes in the “idea [for police] to serve as a liaison between residents and the government,” with the “intention […] to change the impression people have of police.” She heads a new team of community police that have been settled in favela Dona Marta for more than a year after “[swarming]” into Dona Marta and [driving] out drug trafficking gangs,” in line with “an entirely different approach, one which city officials are trying to replicate citywide ahead of the 2016 Olympic games.” The difference in Azevedo’s approach appears to be that police, instead of repeatedly entering into the favelas and leaving with castigating and unproductive operations, establish themselves to ensure permanent security in the communities. However, such an approach not only doesn’t provide an outlet for people tempted by criminal lifestyles, it also shows little change in policy as it resorts to forceful invasion indicative of policy of years past.

Forero interviews Rio’s secretary of public security, Jose Mariano Beltrame, about the new preventative measures being taken to combat corruption that increases the likelihood of violence during the invasion and occupation of favelas. Beltrame “acknowledges that there is a problem with some of Rio’s officers” but indicates “the officers in new policing units will be new themselves,” so that “they won’t come in with the vices of veteran street cops.” The assignment of police teams with freshly-trained officers—untainted by corruptive prejudices characteristic of officers having spent years in the drug war—proffers a creative and intra-systemic approach to a systemic problem and insinuates fresh relief from past approaches. However, the prefeitura’s expectation that a change of the guard will bring about change in policy overlooks the repetitive reality of invasive and combative operations to which the prefeitura has resorted for years and, as events of late 2009 demonstrated, continues to resort.

A look at a Globo article on November 30, 2009 (two days before the article published by NPR) presents a look at the beginning of Jose Beltrame’s developing UPP operations. One article, “Polícia ocupa o morro Pavão-Pavãozinho para instalar UPP [Police occupy the hill (favela) Pavão-Pavãozinho (Peacock-Little Peacock) to install UPP],” describes the operation led by seventy men of BOPE (Batalhão de Operações Especiais [Batallion of Special Operations]) and BPC (Batalhão do Choque (BPChoque) [Batallion of Shock]) in “veículos blindados [armored garrisons]” and a helicopter, during which “troca de trios [exchange of bullets]” and “estouro de uma granada [explosion of a grenade]” resulted in the death of one “criminoso [criminal]” and the arrest of another. Globo reporter Rodrigo Pimentel oxymoronically explains how this was the “primeira etapa da imposição de paz, com força [first stage of the imposition of peace, with force (my italics)]” in Pavão-Pavãozinho. Like putting a pacifier in a crying baby, the UPP puts a plug in the drug trade which has come to metonymize the “problem” of favelas.  The real problem here is that the government looks past the social inequalities and lack of public services that cause many favelados to turn to a life of crime. The cries of the favela understood by the media as bandit’s gunshots actually indicate the silent cries of people (like the boys in Falcão) who have little to no recourse. By imagining that social unrest will disappear with the removal of a drug gang, Beltrame’s UPP censors that social unrest and demonstrates a serious lack of foresight.

The government’s approach, in misunderstanding the situation as it always has, ends up compensating for constantly emerging problems by retouching them with untruths. In a second article from November 30, “Polícia tem expectativa de novos confrontos no Pavão-Pavãozinho [Police have expectations of new confrontations in Pavão-Pavãozinho],” Commander General Mário Sérgio Duarte asserts the “clima da comunidade [climate of the community]” (in which a complex drug organization has just been dethroned) as a climate of “certa tranquilidade [certain tranquility].” Even though the government recognizes these organizations as threats to “uma area tourística [a tourist area]” and thus Olympic security, it publicly treats the favela occupation as if it didn’t intensify an already volatile “[situação] que conta bastante [situation that counts a lot]” for the government’s interests. Aside from the fact that the operation (which killed someone) utilized state violence to put a “peaceful” plug in a community whose people (“criminals” and workers alike) do not want to leave, the police presence guarantees no systemic change. Disinterest echoed in two comments published in the article (given by two women of the “tranquilized” community) “Tenho que ir trabalhar [I have to go to work]” and “Não tenho comentário pra dar [I have no commentary to give]” suggests that favelados see no change in their quotidian lives. The UPP provides nothing more than an image of “tranquility” without any merit, as indicated by disinterested comments by favela residents, and as reinforced by the short-lived duration of said “tranquility.”

            Vengeful events of the following day, December 1, 2009, proved that even though the drug gangs had been displaced from the favela, they had not been extinguished. A Globo article, “Ônibus pega fogo em Copacabana [Bus catches fire in Copacabana],” which was released at 7:45 pm, reports a bus on fire that caused a stop in transit on the largest thoroughfare in Rio’s most densely populated neighborhood, situated just a few blocks from Pavão-Pavãozinho. Because the resilient roots, reputation, and influence that traffickers demonstrate in their own community extends to those nearby, the police cannot expect that occupation will quell the drug trade (or resistance to the state they represent) in the area. While José Mariano Beltrame ambiguously reported that he “ainda não tem informações se o episódio seria alguma retaliação do tráfico devido ao reforço no policiamento para implantação da Unidade de Polícia Pacificadora (UPP) na comunidade Pavão-Pavãozinho [still did not have information as to whether the episode might have been a retaliation by the (drug) traffic due to the reinforcement in policing for the implantation of UPP in Pavão-Pavãozinho],” the issue was certainly in question due to the emergence of violent events earlier in the Spring, which presented another case of emergency in which the government deluded itself into thinking its policy sufficed to Olympic standards.

Not two weeks after the Olympic bid reception in October, the invasion of a favela by a rival faction, paralleled by the arson of “pelo menos oito ônibus [at least eight buses]” (that had been previously evacuated by bandits), tried the temper of Rio’s prefeitura (“Polícia sabia de ataque no Morro dos Macacos, diz secretária de Segurança [Police knew about the attack on the Morro dos Macacos (Hill of the Monkeys), says secretary of Security (José Mariano Beltrame)], October 17, 2009). To mediate the civil war, police forces invaded the favela with a helicopter, which was shot down, killing two officers and burning two others. Anticipating strict retaliation from the police, the bandits ordered factions on nearby hills to explode the eight buses in surrounding areas to “desviar a atenção dos policiais para o que acontecia no Morro dos Macacos [distract the police’s attention from what was happening on Morro dos Macacos].”  The story remains the same—the cycle of violence which perpetuates within and extends beyond favelas invites police violence that reinforces the cycle.

As the favelados predicted, governor of the state of Rio de Janeiro, Sérgio Cabral, reneged on the UPP approach to inner-city violence by reverting to the classic “strategia de segurança do estado [strategy of state security],” approval of which reverberated up and down the chain of command. Cabral elucidates: “Já tomamos as medidas necessárias para reagir a esse tipo de organização criminosa. […] Queremos chegar a 2016 com o Rio de Janeiro em paz, durante e depois dos Jogos. Não é fácil, não é trivial. [We are already taking the necessary measurements to react to this type of criminal organization. […] We want to arrive in 2016 with Rio de Janeiro in peace, during and after the Games. It is not easy, it is not trivial.” Cabral admirably wants to arrive to a Rio de Janeiro in peace; yet his policy continues to violently and hypocritically pursue its aim. The chief of Civil Police (city), Alan Turnowksi, explicitly affirms, “A resposta [aos criminosos] vai vir na mesma medida. A situação não vai ficar impune [The response to criminals will come in the same degree. The situation will not stay unpunished.]” This eye-for-an-eye understanding of justice runs totally contrary to any rational development of the peace and security Rio’s government wants for the Olympics. The minister of Justice, Tarso Genro, provided immediate support to the police operation with the appoinment of men from the Força Nacional de Segurança, in addition to “qualquer coisa [whatever else]” he might need. The mayor of Rio, Eduardo Paes, “dá apoio total ao governo do estado [gives total support to the state government],” which, according to him, “têm combatido sem trégua as ações do crime organizado [has combated actions of organized crime without rest].” A follow-up article from Globo, “Polícia busca o suspeito de ordenar invasão do Morro dos Macacos [Police search for the suspect who planned the invasion of Morro dos Macacos],” tallies the death toll of 11 police operations (led by more than 2 thousand officers relocated from all over the state) in neighboring areas of Morro dos Macacos (which is a few blocks from Maracanã, the hosting stadium of the opening ceremonies) at thirty-three individuals (October 22, 2009). Not only does Sérgio Cabral abandon his UPP model of arriving at 2016, he steps backward to the same operation whose method of notoriously indiscriminate murder was arguably the grounds for establishing the UPP. Police ought to protect citizens in the case of one criminal faction invading another. But if irrational policies held up and down the chain of command excuse the deaths of (at least) thirty-three people as a means to exacting justice, Rio de Janeiro and Brazil face a tumultuous future.

The drug war presents conflicting arguments. Those who sell drugs exercise violent force that threatens their own community when police (or other criminal factions) enter. The police enter into favelas expecting such violence and know that each invasion presents a risk to themselves, the favelados, citizens of nearby neighborhoods, and of course the target of the operation (the drug traffickers). This violence drives a wedge between the favelados, who fear any invasion, and the police, whose entry perpetuates fear and violence. However, entering the favelas without military support seems as suicidal as entering with force is counter-productive to peace. Perhaps a view of government interaction outside of the drug war may present opportunities in which the prefeitura effectively responds to security threats in its community.

A Fresh Look: April Rains

The saying goes, “April showers bring May flowers,” but for Rio de Janeiro, April showers brought waves of death, destruction, and desperation. It seemed as though the gods of Olympus were crying. With the rains came the floods: Rio overflowed, the streets became rivers, and traffic was not delayed but abandoned as hundreds of citizens fled torrents of water that capsized their cars. Those trying to get home in the streets were in just as much danger as those already at home in the favelas on the hills; precariously assembled favela communities were uprooted by landslides that toppled them as if they were houses built by matchsticks. 

A video which surfaced after the first day of rains, created by two independent journalists paddled in a raft to interview several people stuck in their cars, presents an unfiltered commentary of the situation (“Rizoma na Enchente, de verdade. RJ, Abril/2010. [Rhizome in the Flood, of truth/truly. RJ, April/2010.],” April 8, 2010). Stuck in flooded traffic, one working class man’s soliloquy distills the hypocrisy of Rio’s prefeitura in his cry: “…E aí fica essa negocinho das Olimpíadas, Sérgio Cabral falando dessa “cidade maravilhosa.” Rio de Janeiro é uma cidade de traficante e vagabundo […] Cadê aquele filho da puta Eduardo Paes? […] Cadê a guarda municipal?! […And then there’s this little thing about the Olympics, [governor] Sérgio Cabral talking of this “marvelous city.” Rio de Janeiro is a city of drug lords and shameless-tramps/vagabonds. […] Where is that son of a bitch [mayor] Eduardo Paes? […] Where is the municipal guard?!]” A government which can predict over 80% of clandestine inter-favela invasions lacked the foresight to predict and manage floods in a city whose faulty drainage system regularly overflows during the rainy season (“Polícia sabia de ataque ao Morro dos Macacos,” October 17, 2009).

Perhaps the prefeitura couldn’t have predicted this natural disaster (or at least its magnitude), but cries of concerned citizens that reverberate in the aftershock of this catastrophic crisis hang unanswered amidst the city officials’ oxymoronic and uncertain responses, which proffer resolutions whose deployment remain in the future. In a Globo interview on the second day of rains conducted in a communications room, Mayor Eduardo Paes mentioned “planos urgentes [urgent plans]” to “reassentir [resettle]” displaced favelados, but explained that the “opção pra agora é ir pro abrigo ou casa do parente [option for [then was] to go to a house or to a parent’s home]” because “qualquer coisa [que podem fazer é] melhor do que morrer [whatever [you can do is] better than dying” (Bombeiros encontram mais dois corpos no Morro dos Prazeres [Firefighters encounter two more bodies on the [favela] Hill of Pleasures], April 9, 2009).” The setting of the interview removes the mayor from the rains pouring down outside. In the same breath Paes promises the government will help the people in the future yet abandons them in the present. The mayor doesn’t mention or even ask for Federal or State support or cancellation of free time for police, all of which were immediately available in the case of Morro dos Macacos. In pawning the responsibility on the same people who are hurt most by the natural disaster, Paes not only ignores the same people his urgent plans tacitly recognize as deserving help, he places culpability of the incident on them. 

While Eduardo Paes says that the only option for the favelados is to sustain themselves, the mayor of Niteroí (the city across the bay from Rio) presents a similar solution with a slightly different approach. In the same news report of the second day of rains, mayor Jorge Roberto Silveira comments on the crisis in front of a picturesque poster print of the Pão de Açúcar (Sugar Loaf [Mountain], Rio’s second greatest tourist attraction) framed from the vantage point of Rio’s greatest tourist attraction, Cristo Redentor [Christ [the] Redeemer]. The synthetic background for the interview not only distracts the audience from the response to the torrential rains which he provides, it reinforces the image that a city mayor is sheltered from these rains. In describing his consideration of “o Brasil real [the real Brazil],” Silveira advises: “essas pessoas… (hesitation) devem ter removida da favela. […] (cut) Você remove uma populção pobre, né, seja área que for…(cut) tem que tirar [os favelados], né, nos vamos tentar convencer os que eles têm q sair. [these people… (hesitation) ought to be removed from the favela. […](cut) You remove a poor population, you know, be whatever area that it may…(cut) [you] have to pull out [the favelados], you know, we will try to convince them that they have to leave.” This rhetoric, similar to Paes’, suggests that by virtue of living in favelas, favelados invite danger upon themselves. The reality of the situation (contrary to Silveira’s interpretation) is not that favelas were areas of risk, but rather that the floods transformed all streets in both cities into areas of risk.

In reducing the blame for the atrocities of a natural disaster (which affected the whole city) to members of the favelas, mayors Paes and Silveira inappropriately address the very faults of a system whose neglect of the urban poor led to the creation of the communities in question. Silveira’s approach to prevent future problems is to remove the favelas because he sees their existence as the problem. The other side of the coin, presented by Eduardo Paes, demonstrates the government’s unwillingness to provide a place for favelados to go. Favelados (drug traffickers and inhabitants alike), who are blamed for their very existence and the problems of the entire city, encounter violence in almost every relation with the government, from socially produced crises to crises of natural disaster. That government officials openly dismiss the favelados’ needs indicates how their policy perpetuates the cycle of violent oppression.

For decades, the same policy developed by the government has cultivated police forces whose vision callously dehumanizes the people they are conscripted to help. The boys in Falcão: Meninos de Tráfico explicate how dehumanization by the police and structural violence reinforced by the government invites them into lives dedicated to drug trafficking, whose operation disrupts the city. While José Beltrame’s UPPs present a somewhat promising solution to drug gangs in the favelas, the program (which must still stand the test of time) mistakenly imagines the inequalities of the favelas as the manifestation of drug gangs, which are only indicators of the systemic flaws which provide no outlet for thousands of Rio’s urban poor. The case of Morro dos Macacos shows how Rio’s government still pursues violent oppression through the utilization of castigating military policy. Favela backlash in both cases of UPP and Morro dos Macacos illustrate the resilience of favelados’ resistance to police involvement, a resistance likely born from violent police intervention. The April flooding exhibits a neutral case of emergency, to which the prefeitura had a chance to present a well-orchestrated solution, either preventative or after-the-fact. Had mayors Paes or Silveira taken preventative measures to limit the damages of the floods, it remains unknown whether or not they would have been recognized for their efforts. But the policy they both chose to enforce reveals the prefeitura’s position towards favelas as one which assumes little to no responsibility for the protection of favelados. An analysis of Rio’s history has shown that the casuality with which past government policy has violated favela communities still continues, in spite of the spotlight cast by the 2016 Olympic games. In fact, the Olympics are often used not as a deterrent of, but rather as an excuse for, violent operations.

To prepare for the 2016 Olympics, Rio’s government needs to improve its infrastructure and ensure security, but a history of violence prevents progress on both issues. If the government’s response to perceived security threats continues to manifest itself through violence which treats its own people as disposable trash, it only denigrates the testaments of harmonic and passionate diversity which won the heart of the International Olympic Committee in Copenhagen. Rio de Janeiro really is a passionate and diverse city, but discriminative policy often fractures its diversity. The UPP and its operations (as of yet) serve only to misdiagnose and stifle the passion of a city whose core problems stem from violent seizures and arrests which place a band-aid on a system gushing with flaws. In City of Walls: Crime, Segregation, and Citizenship in São Paulo, Teresa Caldeira proffers a tentative approach for any government in Brazil:

“If [Brazilian democracy] aspires to be less violent, it must not only legitimate the justice system but also stop playing out its games of power and abuse of authority on the bodies of the dominated.  It will have to find ways to democratize public space, renegotiate borders, and respect civil rights” (375).

While there is no formula for such change, Rio has six years to attempt to attain such an evolution. In addition to Caldeira’s justice system reform, an improvement and expansion of public services would possibly prevent kids from entering into the cycle of violence. In the time leading up to the 2016 Olympics, Rio de Janeiro still has the chance to embrace its inhabitants in the passionate spirit it broadcasts to the world.

Bibliography

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Caldeira, Teresa P.R. “Violence, the Unbounded Body, and the Disregard for Rights in Brazilian Democracy” in City of Walls: Crime, Segregation, and Citizenship in São Paulo.  Berkeley: UC Press. 2000. pp. 323-375.

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Davis, Mike. “Haussmann in the Tropics” in Planet of Slums.  New York: Verso, 2006. pp. 95-120.

Forero, Juan. “In Brazil’s Slums, Police Try a Softer Touch.”  December 2, 2009, NPR.  www.npr.org. Accessed April 4, 2010.

Globo. “Polícia tem expectative de novos confrontos no Pavão-Pavãozinho ” November 30, 2009. http://g1.globo.com/Noticias/Rio/0,,MUL1398112-5606,00-PM+TEM+EXPECTATIVA+DE+NOVOS+CONFRONTOS+NO+PAVAOPAVAOZINHO.html. Accessed April 23, 2010.

--. “Polícia sabia de ataque ao Morro dos Macacos [Police knew about the attack on Morro dos Macacos].” October 17, 2009. http://g1.globo.com/Noticias/Rio/0,,MUL1345097-5606,00-POLICIA+SABIA+DE+ATAQUE+AO+MORRO+DOS+MACACOS+DIZ+SECRETARIO+DE+SEGURANCA.html. Accessed April 23, 2010.

--.  “Ordem para fechamento do comércio partiu do tráfico, diz polícia [Order for the closing of commerce given by the [drug] traffick, says police].”  December 1, 2009. http://g1.globo.com/Noticias/Rio/0,,MUL1399248-5606,00-ORDEM+PARA+FECHAMENTO+DO+COMERCIO+PARTIU+DO+TRAFICO+DIZ+POLICIA.html. Accessed April 23, 2010.

--.  “Polícia busca suspeito de ordenar invasão do Morro dos Macacos [Police search for the suspect who planned the invasion of Morro dos Macacos].”  October 22, 2009. http://globonews.globo.com/Jornalismo/GN/0,,MUL1350427-17671,00.html. Accessed April 23, 2010.

--. “Ônibus pega fogo em Copacabana [Bus catches fire in Copacabana].” December 1, 2009. http://g1.globo.com/Noticias/Rio/0,,MUL1399419-5606,00-ONIBUS+PEGA+FOGO+EM+COPACABANA.html. Accessed April 23, 2010.

--. “Bombeiros encontram mais dois corpos no Morro dos Prazeres [Firefighters encounter two more bodies on Morro dos Prazeres]” April 9, 2010. http://video.globo.com/Videos/Player/Noticias/0,,GIM1244796-7823-BOMBEIROS+ENCONTRAM+MAIS+DOIS+CORPOS+NO+MORRO+DOS+PRAZERES,00.html.

Guida, Nunes. Favela: Resistência pelo direito de viver [Favela: Resistence for the right to live]. Petropolis: Vozes, 1980.

Meirelles, Fernando. “A Paixao Nos Une (Sem Cortes)” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24Kd5E0tDb0 accessed April 28, 2010.

--.  “Rio 2016 Bid Video” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0MHsUOHDOs&feature=related accessed April 28, 2010

riodejaneiro (username). “Rizome na Enchente. RJ, Abril/2010. Rhizome in the Flood. RJ, Abril/2010.” April 8, 2010.  http://videolog.uol.com.br/video?532588. Accessed April 14, 2010.

Scheper-Hughes, Nancy and Bourgois, Philippe.  Bourgois, Philippe: “The Continuum of Violence in War and Peace: Post-Cold War Lessons from El Salvador” p. 426 in Violence in War and Peace: An Anthology. Oxford: Blackwell, 2004. 

Warren, Kay B.  Hanchard, Michael: “Culturalism Versus Cultural Politics: Movimento Negro [Black Movement] in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, Brazil” in The Violence Within: Cultural and Political Resistance in Divided Nations.  Boulder: Westview, 1993. pp. 57-86.

Zalvar, Alba. Integraçao perversa: pobresa e tráfico de drogas [Perverse integration: poverty and drug trafficking]. Rio de Janeiro: Ediora FGV, 2004.

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[1] I should note that favelas, aside from their disproportionately-publicized (but not to be negated) notoriety as drug cauldrons and Petri dishes of vicious immorality, root most every Brazilian cultural movement, including (amongst many) Samba and Carnaval. For the purpose of this paper, I highlight their most notorious aspect to show that even the people who the police most oppress are prepared for the government’s help.