The securitization of citizenship in a ‘Segregated City’: a reflection on Rio’s Pacifying Police Units

A securitização da cidadania em uma cidade ‘segregada’: uma reflexão sobre as Unidades de Polícia Pacificadora do Rio de Janeiro

Abstracts

The Pacification Police Units – UPPs – implemented in Rio de Janeiro since 2008 have as one of their stated goals the promotion of the integration between the pacified favelas and the ‘formal’ city, aiming to overcome the view of Rio as a ‘divided city’. Intending to problematize the reasoning behind this stated goal in order to question the UPPs’ very foundations, this article examines the political and sociospatial background in which they were introduced. The implementation and operation of the UPPs is outlined in the context of the militarization of Rio’s spaces, and especially of its urban poor regions, within an analysis of what assumptions about favelas and slum residents the UPPs imply. The UPPs are analyzed in dialogue with Giorgio Agamben’s work as a sovereign act of ‘drawing lines of distinction’ between lives worth living and politically worthless ‘Others’. It becomes clear that they are guilty of articulating and reinforcing what Teresa Caldeira has named the ‘talk of crime’, a Manicheistic discourse through which Brazilians articulate and cope with their daily encounter with violence. The disjunctive nature of Brazil’s ‘inclusively inegalitarian’ democracy, as explored by James Holston, is emphasized. Brazil emerges as a post-dictatorial country, in which neoliberal reforms and democratic opening have simultaneously implied an increasingly authoritarian penal state that targets the urban marginalized as its ‘internal enemies’.

UPPs; Public security policy; Brazilian democracy; Urban segregation

As Unidades de Polícia Pacificadora – UPPs – implementadas no Rio de Janeiro desde 2008 têm como um de seus objetivos a promoção da integração entre as favelas e a ‘cidade formal’, superando a segregação da cidade. Com o objetivo de problematizar o raciocínio por trás dessa meta, a fim de questionar os fundamentos das UPPs, o artigo explora o contexto político e socioespacial do Brasil e do Rio de Janeiro no qual foram introduzidas as UPPs. A implantação e operação das UPPs é colocada no contexto da militarização do espaço urbano, principalmente das suas regiões mais pobres, junto com uma análise dos preconceitos sobre favelas e seus moradores articulados pelas UPPs. As UPPs são entendidas em diálogo com a obra de Giorgio Agamben como um ato soberano de "traçar linhas de distinção" entre tipos de vidas que merecem ser vividas e 'outras' construídas como politicamente inúteis. Torna-se claro que as UPPs articulam e reforçam o que Teresa Caldeira chamou de “fala do crime”, um discurso maniqueísta através do qual a população brasileira expressa e lida com seu encontro diário com a violência. A natureza disjuntiva da democracia “inclusiva e desigual” do Brasil, como explica James Holston, é enfatizada. O Brasil aparece como um país pós-ditatorial onde as reformas neoliberais e a abertura democrática causaram a paralela criação de um Estado penal autoritário que tem como alvo o subproletariado urbano.

UPPs; Política de segurança pública; Democracia brasileira; Segregação urbana

Since the re-democratization period that commenced in the mid-1970s and intensified in the 1980s, the social, political and spatial divisions within Rio de Janeiro have become perceived as increasingly acute. The city is known today for its rising number of favelas and its high crime and homicide rates. Repeated public security crises in the past decades have helped the consolidation of this image. For Rio’s citizens, the city sustains an environment of public insecurity commonly associated with social and economic inequality. The 2014 FIFA World Cup and the 2016 Olympic Games provided an impetus for a transformation of this picture. In this context, the 2008 pacification of the Dona Marta favela in Botafogo marked the beginning of a new public policy approach. Developed by Public Security Secretary José Mariano Beltrame under the government of Sérgio Cabral, the Pacifying Police Units of Rio’s favelas, or UPPs, at the end of 2014 add up to 38 units¹. These include the well-known Cidade de Deus or City of God, Complexo do Alemãoand Rocinha.

According to the UPPs official website (UPP, 2014, our translation), the pacifications have the following official goals, amongst others:

[…]to resume territories once dominated by ostentatiously armed criminal groups and establish the democratic state based on the rule of law. […] To contribute to breaking the logic of “war” that exists in the state of Rio de Janeiro.
To allow the entry or expansion of public services and the private sector, traditionally limited by the action of the parallel power of criminal groups; […] To contribute to a greater integration of these territories and their inhabitants into the city as whole, disabling the traditional view of ‘divided city’ that characterizes Rio de Janeiro.

Despite these ambitious plans, the UPPs occur within an existing state of affairs that absorbs and limits them. More specifically, they arose from a context of widespread preconceptions about citizenship, criminality, marginality and favelas(Perlman, 2010) within a neoliberal framework that exchanges economic laissez-faire for an increasingly authoritarian “penal state”, a model exported by the United States and readily imported by Brazilian authorities (Wacquant, 2008).

As such, it is the aim of this paper to show the inherent and external limitations to the UPPs’ stated goals, mainly through the contributions of Loïc Wacquant, Nilo Batista, Vera Malaguti Batista, Teresa Caldeira and Giorgio Agamben. Their works help us understand the historical construction of this ‘divided city’ and investigate whether the UPPs are apt to tackle the problem of segregation in Rio de Janeiro once we problematize the discursive and material construction of this perceived ‘division’ of the urban tissue. How was a military occupation justified, and under what circumstances did it become perceived as a legitimate solution to the problem of segregation and inequality in Rio de Janeiro? As we answer this we will see that the UPPs’ limits are present because they are part of rather than a challenge to the larger scheme of the criminalization and militarization of drugs within a logic of war since the military rule of 1964-1985 (Batista, 1997) – the effects of which are still widely felt in Brazil.

Militarization continued in post-dictatorship Brazil as democratic opening and economic reforms were accompanied by growing state intervention in criminal matters within the aforementioned ‘neoliberal penal state’, backed by the mainstream media and with significant public support. The penal state works through the centuries-old criminalization of the poor – especially the black youth – concentrated in Brazil in the urban peripheries and favelas. Since the era of formal colonialism and slavery, they have been the main targets of criminal policies and police violence (Malaguti Batista, 2003). Today, they are over-represented in the country’s prisons and homicide rates. More recently, this is linked to what Teresa Caldeira (2000) has named the “talk of crime”, which dichotomizes between hard-working, morally upright, good Brazilians and evil, morally weak and savage criminals or potential criminals. The latter are considered unworthy of human rights or any form of legal protection within what James Holston has called Brazil’s ‘inclusively inegalitarian citizenship’ that only formally recognizes universal rights whilst substantially distributing rights through lines of privilege.

These processes are also spatial. The rise of favelas, re-democratization and the perceived public insecurity in a country increasingly affected by high crime rates has led to processes of spatial segregation epitomised by the global phenomenon of gated communities and ‘fortified enclaves’, on the rise in Brazil since the 1970s. The discursive construction of the homogeneous spaces of such communities is mutually constitutive of the discursive construction of favelas as the spaces of crime, lawlessness, war and marginality. The UPPs then go a step further into enforcing the dichotomization between these two spaces – the ‘organized’ and ‘disorganized’ space, for instance – and into declaring the state of exception in favelas, which justifies the implementations of the UPPs. The state of exception legitimizes the suspension of democratic law, turning their inhabitants into what Giorgio Agamben (1995) has named the Homo Sacer. For him, the state of exception is a constitutive part of contemporary politics, rather than an anomaly of it.

On a similar note, Milton Santos (1979) has argued that underdeveloped cities in places such as Brazil are formed by two intimately linked and complementary ‘parts’, the formal and informal economies, so that these spaces are not only discursively but also materially mutually constitutive. As such, the notion of Rio de Janeiro as a ‘divided city’ and the turning to favelasas the space that requires integration into the ‘formal city’ disregards the particular relationship between these two circuits, which he names ‘upper’ and ‘lower’. A break with this vision of Rio de Janeiro as a divided city would require a re-thinking of and rupture with the centuries-old repeated attempts to differentiate between kinds of citizens and segregate the spaces associated with them, and the resulting relationships between the ‘two cities’. It would also require a questioning of the different rights that apply to them, for favela residents and (potential) criminals are granted less democratic protection, instead of a military intervention into one of those spaces, the favelas.

The UPPs: paradigmatic break?

The UPPs are installed in phases, from the gathering of intelligence, the invasion of the favela, the establishment of permanent UPP police stations in the favela’s territory to the co-operation with the Social UPP program – since August 2014 re-labeled Rio+Social. They supposedly operate within a model of community policing. In some cases, such as the pacification of Complexo do Alemão and Complexo da Maré, the armed forces were deployed in the stages of invasion and territorial occupation, staying in the favela for several months after occupation. In the former, but also in others such as Vila Cruzeiro, the occupation was televised as part of a large investment into assigning it legitimacy through widespread media attention to foster public support. Recently, this support has received a blow after repeated outbreaks of violence in pacified favelas as well as reports of human rights abuses by the pacifying police (O Dia, 2014b), most prominently in Rocinha and Complexo do Alemão. The UPPs were portrayed in the media as a radical, innovative break from previous public security policies that aimed to deal with immediate public security crises in favelas, after which the police would retreat. The UPPs, instead, take a supposedly communitarian approach and focus on the favelas’ social development.

However, the UPPs are not as paradigmatic a break as these accounts suppose. Not only inspired by the model applied to Medellín in Colombia (Jácomo, 2011; Conectas Human Rights, 2012), the UPPs come from an older shift, since the end of the 1970s, from a policy of favela removal to favela upgrading or urbanization programs². One such program was Favela-Bairro, implemented in 1993 in accordance with the Plano Diretor da Cidade do Rio de Janeiro as foreseen in the 1988 Constitution (Brum, 2013). The community policing model is also not a complete innovation, having been tried out in Copacabana in the 1990s (Albernaz et al., 2007). Besides having drawn inspiration from other models of policing, one of the most important continuities of the UPP is its embeddedness within a larger process of growing state intervention in the matter of public security. Brazil’s current form of state intervention has been on the rise since the military dictatorship as economic reforms towards neoliberalism meant increasing inequalities within the country and the criminalization and militarization of the marginalized, urban poor and the spaces associated with them. The latter are targeted as the loci of crime and the origin of the recurring public security crises³ as well as high crime rates often associated with the international network of drug and weapons trafficking that affects the country since re-democratization (Wacquant, 2008; Malaguti Batista, 2003, 2010, 2011; Batista, 1997).

The war-like invasion of favelas is legitimized through this gradual establishment of the ‘neoliberal penal state’ (Wacquant, 2008), a historical process initiated under the military dictatorship during the Cold War linked to the consolidation of what Nilo Batista (1997) has called the “military model of criminal policy.” Drugs came to symbolize Communist subversion, and therefore the ‘internal enemy’ to the “moral bases of Christian civilization” (Batista, 1997, p. 12). This has led to the creation of a ‘criminal policy with spilling of blood’, as he names it, as the potential economic profits of war with an external enemy – the Soviet block – were redirected towards the international ‘organized crime’ that also originates within state borders. In Brazil more specifically, the favela and its mostly black residents became the nation’s internal enemy, so that we have today a de facto “dictatorship over the poor” (Wacquant, 2008, p. 62). Democratic institutions fail that segment of society, whose rights are not protected in the judicial or executive systems. These processes are not exclusive to Brazil, as other metropolises experience their own patterns of inequality (Mitchell, 2003). The military invasion and occupation of favelas, with the acceptance of its ‘collateral effects’ that in practice implies a death penalty for the nation’s enemies – the drug traffickers, factions or quadrilhas – is part of these historical exclusionary processes, in no way implying a break from them.

The ‘penal state’ relies on the reproduction of a specific discourse on crime that relies on propaganda, described by Teresa Caldeira (2000) as the “talk of crime”. Within this, the media exercises a central and legitimizing role. This role became evident in the live transmission and public judgment or “executivization” (Batista, 2002, our translation) of Bus 174’s hijacker in 2002, for instance. The historical construction of the internal enemy as the poor, black and (potential) criminal can be traced back to the fears of slave uprisings (Malaguti Batista, 2003). The colonial relationship has left a socio-economic order that continues to identify the ‘black element’ as a possible insurgent, as a threat to order and ‘peace’ (Misse, 1999, 2010). Malaguti Batista provides a genealogy of the ‘fear of the (black) Other’, which is today a widespread culture of fear that legitimizes the historical control of those Others and the spaces associated with them for the sake of ‘purity’ within hygienist discourses that are constantly recycled. Brazil’s internal ‘Others’ are rooted in the country’s colonial history, which naturalized a global racial order that dichotomizes between humans and non-humans and furthered the development of capitalist relations of production (Mignolo, 2011; Mignolo & Escobar, 2010; Quijano, 2000, 2007; Maldonado-Torres, 2010). They were, at first, ‘savage’ indigenous peoples, former slaves and international immigrants, but since the 1970s they have become these groups’ descendants and national migrants from poorer regions, especially the nordestinos of the Northeast, as well as those linked to ‘organized crime’.

The economic possibilities opened up by the UPPs play a central role here, for the pacification of favelas enables profit-making for a number of businesses. More specifically, the UPPs have the – whether intended or unintended – outcome of bringing favela residents more firmly into the neoliberal market economy. They guarantee profits for the private sector through the installation of banks and the regularization of services such as cable TV and electricity in the communities. The implementation of the UPPs also aims to portray the image of Brazil as ‘safe for investment’ by foreign investors for the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympic Games, since the disorderly poor and the drug traffickers are ‘under control’ (Malaguti Batista, 2011, p. 105). This short-sighted focus on the upcoming mega-events becomes even clearer when we consider that the UPPs were implemented first in the favelas of the most privileged areas, the city’s Zona Sul – where tourists are concentrated – whilst other favelas, such as Vila Autódromo and favela do Metrô were targeted for removal (Brum, 2013). It would not be sustainable and it is not the goal of the Secretariat of Security to occupy all of Rio’s favelas, so that one is left with the impression that one of the unstated intentions was to secure strategically important spaces for the capitalist profit-making of the upcoming mega-events, and generally to enable profits for the city’s big businesses.

Returning to the previous point, this symbolic and material distancing between different types of citizens is part of what James Holston (2008) has named Brazil’s ‘inclusively inegalitarian’ or ‘difference-specific’ citizenship. James Holston (2008) explains that whilst Brazil’s history of democracy since the 19^th century is one of universal formal membership in the nation-state, the substantive distribution of rights, as he puts it, takes the form of a “gradation of rights, in which most rights are available only to particular kinds of citizens and exercised as the privilege of particular social categories” (Holston, 2008, p. 7). Social differences serve the purpose of legally distributing inequality. These social dynamics are in turn both expressed in and shaped by the city’s spaces. There is a sociospatial dialectic, of which favelas are a part, which forms the background to the implementation of the UPPs in 2008. Democracy, citizenship and space are intimately linked, articulating matters of exclusion and inclusion through categories such as race, gender and class.

Within this setting of public insecurity and a culture of fear, the public is accepting and even supportive of ‘more state’ in matters of public security and crime (Caldeira, 2000; Batista, 1997; Wacquant, 2008). In the private sphere and with this perceived lack of security and state control in mind, the Brazilian middle and upper classes have allocated growing investments to private security and gated communities. Other effects include an increasing tolerance for human rights abuses, public support for vigilante groups, and justifications for the legalization of the death penalty, already practiced de facto on the urban, black poor (Caldeira, 2000). As one example of this, in 2014, mainly in the month of February, Brazil experienced a relatively short-lived yet significant phenomenon: the emergence of justiceiros, or ‘avengers’. These were self-proclaimed groups who took the matter of ‘justice’ in the streets into their own hands.

In one case in the neighborhood of Flamengo in Rio de Janeiro’s privileged South Zone, a group of around 14 youngsters assaulted a 15-year old boy, stripped him naked and tied him to a lamppost (O Dia, 2014a). They accused him of repeated robberies in Flamengo. A survey by Datafolha in that same month showed a 79% disapproval for the justiceiros by the general public. Nevertheless, richer, more educated and white Brazilians were significantly more in favor of their actions (Folha de São Paulo, 2014): 24% of whites, for instance, approved of the justiceiros, as compared to 12% of blacks. The accused criminal was a black boy of low socio-economic status, and the justiceiros were white and middle-class. This phenomenon shows the race and class privilege under which Brazilian democracy functions. It carries authoritarian conceptions of public order (Caldeira, 2000) that advocate the eradication of thieves to eliminate the ‘impurity’ or ‘immorality’ of the national character (Romero, 1967) in a country with long-standing antidemocratic traditions (Schwartzman, 2007).

Order, progress and undemocratic practices in undemocratic spaces

Parallel to an increased professionalization of the criminal networks since the 1970s and 80s, the growth of cocaine consumption and trafficking, and the discursive construction of drugs as the nation’s internal enemy (Malaguti Batista, 2006), Brazil also experienced a rise in segregationist urban planning. It is not argued here that security concerns are the only reason for the rise in this phenomenon, which can include convenience or lack of alternatives (Roming, 2005). Nevertheless, the combination of an increase in security concerns and segregationist urban planning in Brazil is not accidental and shows a specific relationship between these two mutually enforcing developments. Neighborhoods like Barra da Tijuca in Rio⁴ or Alphaville in São Paulo are illustrative of this, exhibiting highly technologically surveilled gated communities and malls. These “fortified enclaves” (Caldeira, 2000, p. 258) change the way that public space functions and attempt to mark a clear separation from the rest of the city, reinforcing the accepted, exclusionary social norms (Monahan, 2010, p. 81). A number of authors have interpreted such enclaves as a reaction to instability and the unsettling of social borders not only in Brazil but also the United States and Argentina (Caldeira, 1996; Monahan, 2010; Malaguti Batista, 2003).

These transformations have been felt by the urban poor, who, in lack of alternatives for leisure activities, turn to the consumerist spaces of shopping malls for their free-time activities. However, these classes are not welcome there, as the rise of rolezinhos – or ‘casual, small walks’ – has showed (Al Jazeera, 2014). Rolezinhostook place at the end of 2013 and start of 2014. They were simply gatherings of hundreds and sometimes thousands of young people from the peripheries in several malls throughout cities such as São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. The rolezinhos, organized through social media, received extensive media attention, and were understood by some as a request for social inclusion, greater public investment in leisure and cultural activities for the poorer youth as well as mere opportunities for recreational outings⁵. However, it was maybe the reactions that they caused that clearly showed their political dimensions.

Store owners and mall administrators reacted adversely – some malls were even granted injunctions against the rolezinhos. The rolezinhoswere criminalized by the police and mainstream media for instilling disorder, insecurity and chaos. Mall and store managers showed their fear of a crowd of young, low-income Afro-Brazilians who gathered with the intention of having fun but who were perceived as potentially dangerous. The fear of disorder, chaos, crime and violence that underlies the logic of the creation of spaces of forced homogeneity, predictability, respectability and exclusivity such as malls became clear. As a phenomenon of mixed political and recreational motivations, these young Brazilians made evident the social segregation and culture of fear that underlies the sociability of shopping malls, where they are not welcome. Their simple act of association in malls was also a claim to citizenship, as explained by Malaguti Batista (2006, p. 254, our translation):

A certain discourse on crime has to be repeated ad infinitum and ad nauseum to be fundamental to the management of the poor, those who are not to frequent the mall, the temple of citizenship consumption. Who said that our boys dying or killing for a Nike cap are not fighting for the citizenship offered by this moment of capitalism?

As already discussed in the notion of ‘inclusively inegalitarian’ citizenship, purchasing power – class – and citizenship are intertwined and confused in a society such as Brazil, where privilege still determines one’s access to rights and citizenship, and the poor are repeatedly marginalized and militarized. The rise of gated communities as direct opposites of favelas in the search for homogeneous, ‘secure’ spaces is an inherently political process that articulates the current state of democracy in the country, making clear who is being left out from its capitalist consumerist citizenship.

As opposed to the more recent character of ‘fortified enclaves’, cortiços and later favelas had been on the rise since the end of the 19th century as Brazil transitioned from a slavery-based to a capitalist economy (Silva, 2006). Their emergence was closely linked to social, political, cultural, economic and spatial transformations that occurred in Brazil in the second half of the 19th and first half of the 20th century. Among them, one could name as the most important the fall of the Empire and proclamation of the Republic; the substitution of slave with paid labor (Silva, 2006); the consolidation of capitalism as well as the development of the secondary and tertiary sectors of the economy. Rio further underwent significant urbanization and demographic growth due to first international (Silva, 2006) but since the 1930s especially national immigration (Perlman, 1976), the former subsidized by the state in order to attract desirable, mostly European and white paid labor (Santos, 2002). With the installation of public services, such as of transport and sanitation, the resulting accelerated urbanization led to a housing crisis. Tenements (cortiços), at first located mostly in the city centre, became a profitable business and spread with the growth of the demand for cheap housing.

The First Republic (1889-1930) was thus a period of modernization, of the positivist principles of ‘order and progress’, and its symbol – Rio – should abide by European urban planning principles, inspired in the image of Paris. With the establishment of capitalism and the rise of biopolitics (Foucault, 2004), hygiene and surveillance, as well as the circulation of people and goods in the city became a growing concern. Foucault explains biopolitical power as the sovereign ‘right to make live and let die’ (Foucault, 2003, p. 241), or a life-positive sovereignty that gradually developed between the 17th and 19th centuries. It functions through the creation of governmentality dispositifs and techniques that focus on the population’s body and their respective ‘utilities’ (Foucault, 2004). In this context, medicine becomes a method of social control. It is here that Foucault links the state to racism (Foucault, 2003, p. 254). In post-independence Brazil, this link took the form, for example, of an over-emphasis on the country’s racial ‘quality’ in nation-making efforts (Schwarcz, 1993). Meanwhile, in Rio de Janeiro’s peripheries, the state attempted to control the slave population and the (also sanitary) ‘problems’ associated with black bodies (Malaguti Batista, 2003, p. 157). As such, Brazil engaged in nation-wide and regionally specific attempts to ‘purify the national race’.

In Rio, the state soon diagnosed a positive relationship between the increase in cortiços and insalubrity as urban space became perceived as the “most dangerous environment for the population” and as a “medicalizable object” (Foucault, 2000a, p. 99). Rio’s periodical epidemics of cholera, smallpox and yellow fever were quickly attributed to cortiços and their residents. The city’s modernization plans of the included new, open avenues – more prone to circulation and ventilation – which were to substitute the city centre’s narrow and overcrowded streets. Cortiços – the largest and most famous one being Cabeça-de-Porco in the city centre – were then doomed to disappear, although very few can still be found in neighborhoods like Botafogo and the city centre (Vaz, 1994; Santos, 2012; Xavier & Magalhães, 2003). This period became known as the ‘bota-abaixo’ (knock it down) of the then mayor Pereira Passos. Unable to afford the alternative ‘hygienic housing’, such as the workers’ villages – whose construction was subsidized by the state – favelas emerged as a housing solution for the urban poor.

Having become officially recognized only around the 1940s, the beginning of the history of favelas is relatively unknown. However, it is often attributed to soldiers who, returning from the War of Canudos(1896-1897) (Levine, 1992)⁶, temporarily settled on Morro da Providência next to former slavers and informal workers who had already begun settling there (Perlman, 2010). The soldiers had been promised better housing, but then remained there when this promise was never kept. The growth of this first favela is also attributed to the removal of the cortiço Cabeça-de-Porco, whose residents, it is believed, built their shanties on that morro. Today, according to the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistic’s 2010 census (IBGE), over two million people in Rio, or 14.4% of the population, live in favelas. Within the context of repeated attempts at their elimination and displacement, its residents have been forced to apply their creativity to come up with strategies of survival. We see such strategies in the informal sector of the economy, the ‘camelôs’ and ‘piracy’ markets. In this context, Milton Santos (1979) stresses the co-dependent and intimate links between the ‘formal’ and ‘informal’ economies of underdeveloped cities, showing how the ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ circuits of the economy are always already integrated.

What emerges is a picture of a city made up of ‘two sides of the same coin’, the formal and informal city, the ‘moral’ and ‘immoral’ spaces, the ‘exceptional’ and ‘normalized’ neighborhoods – the latter explored in more detail below. These are historically constructed through each other not only discursively but also materially. Nevertheless, we observe centuries-old attempts to control the physical and social place of the nation’s ‘Others’ within undemocratic and segregationist notions of a desirable nation and city. Since the military dictatorship, this has been an increasingly televised military endeavor as neoliberal reforms have relegated the urban poor more and more to the socioeconomic fringes of society. Rio faces a historical problem of inequality beyond material wealth and with complex links with crime. Rio’s symbolic segregation has important implications for public security policies for it not only inhibits social mobility, but, as Peirce puts it, “distorts the effect of deterrence measures, leaving the poorest sectors more vulnerable to becoming both the victims and perpetrators of crime” (Peirce, 2008, p. 90).

The militarization of favelas in the state of exception

Within this context of attempts at solidifying sociospatial segregation and since the 1980s, when favela drug factions took on their current form, the city has been increasingly securitized and militarized under a discourse of exceptionalism and an ‘urban war’ logic. Brazil’s authoritarian tradition has stimulated police institutions to maintain ‘order’ no matter what that implies, normalizing human rights abuses that are repeatedly reported. The military police, a product of the dictatorship, is the main institution responsible for patrolling Rio’s streets (Caldeira, 2000, p. 146). It is also deployed within the UPPs. Its behavior and culture is highly militarized, with policemen encouraged, as previously stated, to view themselves as ‘soldier warriors’ facing an internal enemy – the drug traffickers (Poncioni, 2005, p. 599). After Brazil became successfully involved in the United Nations Stabilisation Mission in Haiti(MINUSTAH), Brazilian authorities made the decision to apply to their own ‘humanitarian crisis’ what had been learned there, taking inspiration from the security policy model adopted in Medellín (Jácomo, 2011; Conectas Human Rights, 2012).

The UPPs’ main concern however – not surprisingly due to the operation’s militarized nature – is with territorial occupation rather than social development (Fleury, 2012, p. 213) or the dismantling of the ‘geographies of inequality’ (Malaguti Batista, 2011, p. 106). The UPPs are an imposed policy that represents favelas as spaces ‘of lack’ – lacking sanitation, education, security, order etc. – as ‘war zones’ and as the loci of crime. The discourse in the media – which showed wide support and exaggerated optimism for the UPPs (Palermo, 2011) – was one constructed around the dichotomous confrontation between the ‘police warrior, defender of freedom’ and the ‘evil illegitimate criminal oppressors’. This discourse continued the logic that perceives drugs and drug traffickers as the nation’s internal enemy and furthered the Manicheism of the ‘talk of crime’.

Hence, we can observe in the UPPs a discourse of crisis and exceptionalism. The justification of the police’s right to militarily occupy those spaces and to incur the possibility of ‘collateral effects’ is framed through the establishment of a state of exception in them. In Agamben’s concern with sovereign power under the expansion of the military apparatus especially in regards to the US response to 9/11 in its ‘War on Terror’, this state of exception is a paradigm in contemporary politics (Agamben, 2005). He is therefore also deeply preoccupied with the problems of the democratic rule of law and its future prospects within an international context of the normalization of war. Agamben understands sovereign power as the right to decide on the state of exception – to call it into being – and to decide who is included in or excluded from the polis (Tagme, 2009, p. 412), or, as another scholar has put it, “which types of life are worth living” (Vaughan-Williams, 2009, p. 23).

The sovereign act thus differentiates between politically valuable life (bios) and bare life (zoe) (Agamben 1995). The latter takes the form of the Homo Sacer, who is banned from the polis in a zone of indistinction between natural and political life and therefore can be killed but not sacrificed. The ‘camp’ is the quintessential expression of his theory, not as something relegated to the past but, as Agamben (1995, p. 166) writes, as the “hidden matrix […] of the political space in which we are still living.” Spaces such as the camp are therefore an intrinsic part of modern politics, so that the exception becomes the rule. Torture and execution of the Homo Sacer are today normalized in global politics, which Wacquant and Batista have also argued more specifically within the Brazilian context. As the space where natural life and politically qualified life intertwine in a mutual inclusion and exclusion, the Homo Sacer is, to borrow the words of Jenny Edkins, the “subjectivity or personhood produced by and captured in sovereign power” (Edkins, 2007, p. 75). In this particular relationship of inclusive exclusion, she understands bare life not simply as the absence of political value but the personification or living aspect of the taking away of political life.

The objectified subject of the ‘talk of crime’ is such a personhood. The virtual defense of a death penalty for and inhuman treatment of criminals and favela residents is rendered unproblematic, as was seen, through this inclusive exclusion. The sovereign act is thus not arbitrary or based on individual will; it is historically embedded in cultural practices and discourses (Tagme, 2009), or what Foucault has named the “regime of truth” (Foucault, 2000b). In Brazil, this takes the form of the country’s ‘inclusively inegalitarian’ citizenship, one expression of which is the ‘talk of crime’ within the ‘neoliberal penal state’. The treatment of favelas as war-like spaces (Azevedo, 2014), and the public’s tolerance for ‘collateral effects’ show favelas as such a zone of indistinction, where political life is taken away and the Homo Sacer can be killed. Against the background of the history of the emergence of favelas and the repeated criminalization of its residents as part of a continuity of the colonial social order (Malaguti Batista, 2003), we can understand the complex historical roots of the current public security UPP model.

The sovereign act is thus embedded in the radicalized social order that continues to define insiders and outsiders, as well as those who are in-between as unrecognized or secondary citizens. As Agamben explains, this specific subjectivity is also tied to a specific space. In his works, he explores the Nazi concentration camp, but Brazil’s favelas too are such a liminal space. This point is also voiced by Malaguti Batista (2011, p. 116, our translation), who defended that Agamben’s state of exception is highly applicable to the pacified favelas as…

[…]control in the open, in that perspective of Agamben’s state of exception. The idea of the ‘camp’, the area of complete penal control of the daily lives of its residents, who are now in all aspects under the police’s direct tutelage [tutelados]. Taking the pacification of Alemão as a symbolic act of a city project, Rio’s media has cunningly invested in the ‘policization’ [policização] of life until the last detail, having the BOPE as the great helmsman.

It becomes evident that such differentiation between worthy and unworthy lives does not work towards integration or democracy. The UPPs leave the lines that divide the city unchanged in their content, even reinforcing the city’s symbolic segregation (Fleury, 2012). They make the drug factions, the criminals and the spaces associated with them hyper-visible, instead of tackling the sociability patterns and ‘Othering’ processes that take place between the city’s spaces and their respective residents. Criminals and potential criminals continue to be seen as internal enemies, the Homo Sacer, declared unprotected by the law. The case of the worker Amarildo who was tortured and murdered by UPP policemen for being suspected of criminal activities (BBC News, 2013) serves here as an example of how this distinction is easily blurred, making it the responsibility of the (potential) Homo Sacer to prove himself as a worthy citizen, an ‘honest worker’ (trabalhador honesto). The lines remain in place because sovereign power, as Agamben teaches us, always works through drawing lines, so that even when it is possible to shift those lines, it seems impossible to get rid of them completely.

The military and social phases of the UPPs try to sequentially cover crime deterrence and prevention through military occupation and later poverty relief within a discourse of ‘development’, the latter under the Social UPP (InSightCrime, 2014; Rio On Watch, 2011; Rio Mais Social, 2015)⁷. Military action and economic relief would on their own nevertheless not foster the type of coming together that would genuinely and organically break down the existing divisions. That is because, firstly, explanations of why people resort to crime and violence that focus only on economic circumstances do not suffice. As has become clear, symbolic and discursive practices matter as well. Secondly, as previously discussed, there is a large state military and also private economic apparatus interested in maintaining the marginalized poor as the nation’s internal enemies. Thirdly, the UPPs do not look at the complex illegal crime networks that cross licit and illicit activities, including but not exclusively made up of non-state actors or drug traffickers (Peirce, 2008). These networks, furthermore, do not only take place in favelas. Finally, the securitization of an issue leads to its firmer imprisonment within the already accepted social form, removing it from “public debate and decision” (Edkins & Pin-Fat, 1999, p. 11). Securitization de-politicizes the issue, restricting the opportunities for alternatives to be imagined, let alone pursued. Securitizing and militarizing favelas blurs the lines between victims and perpetrators, for it emerges out of an ‘Othering’ discourse that maintains the status quo despite material changes.

Conclusion

If we recall the UPPs’ aims, they were to reintegrate favelas into the formal city, to establish peace and the democratic rule of law, to promote citizenship, and to break Rio’s ‘divided city’ and ‘war logic’. As seen, these goals require tackling both the discursive and material dimensions of public security. However, the UPPs do not question Brazil’s ‘inclusively inegalitarian’ citizenship, rooted in its colonial past and post-colonial development. Instead, the UPPs in many ways reinforce the ‘talk of crime’, maintaining the criminal as the Homo Sacer under the neoliberal penal state. The UPPs securitize citizenship and thereby confine it even further in its accepted social form. These are necessary elements of the legitimization and justification of such a military invasion and occupation with likely ‘collateral effects’. In post-dictatorship Brazil and for the UPPs, the media and public opinion hold an important role in the criminalization of the urban poor as the state’s ‘internal enemies’. As a military occupation of the spaces associated with those ‘enemies’, the UPPs do little to break the logic of war and image of Rio as a ‘divided city’. The militarization of favelasnormalizes the state of exception and, at best, creates a negative peace, as recurring news on human rights abuses and violent outbreaks in UPP favelas remind us (O Dia, 2014b).

The implementation of the UPPs also works to force favela residents into the neoliberal market by enabling private investments and the formalization of services in the pacified communities. This is especially the case in its last stage, the Social UPP/Rio+Social. As we recognize this final stage as an extension of the military UPP, pacification has the effect of militarizing social development, which is approached with a heavy focus on bringing the market and therewith consumption into the favela rather than substantial rights. They make Brazil seem ‘safe for foreign investment’ in the capitalist endeavors of the 2014 FIFA World Cup and 2016 Olympic Games. Rio+Social, however, has the potential to open up opportunities for bottom-up projects by civil society, and with them the potential to question the prevalent discourse. Nevertheless, calling such problems ‘social’ is itself a discursive strategy employed by liberal popular and scholarly discourse alike. Relegating the problems in favelas to the ‘social’ realm takes them away from notions of the political and so de-problematize them.

However, the UPPs are not an un-political, technical or managerial project. They are inherently political and disjunctive. They speak to issues that concern our very understanding of the political, articulating the foundations of the modern nation-state: the notion of sovereign power and the exercise of democracy. Within this, Rio is only an illustrative example. Such sovereignty as brought forward by Agamben is found, with its own cultural and historical specificities, wherever the modern nation-state has emerged. We see it operate, for example, in refugee camps or for asylum seekers. Having said this, Brazil emerges not as a ‘failed state’, but as undergoing a specific experience of ‘modernity’. The portrayal of Brazil as a post-dictatorial country should not be understood to imply that ‘Brazil is not democratic yet’, and that somehow it will undergo a linear progress towards equality and inclusion. Instead, democratic and authoritarian rule can not only coexist, but, as Agamben shows us, are mutually constitutive and reinforcing. As such, Brazil takes part in broader, global developments towards militarization and also urban segregation (Monahan, 2010, p. 83).

Top-down approaches like the UPPs rarely get to the bottom of the problem. To re-politicize this matter would require an interruption of the prevalent discourse. Brazil requires a re-thinking not only of the executive and judicial power, but also of its sociability patterns. This needs to be done with historical awareness. The UPPs will therefore probably not offer us a magic solution to public security issues. At the same time, it may be true that it is now almost impossible to imagine Rio without them. We must try and direct these recent movements as they happen. For favelados, pacification has the potential to create and has created many opportunities – something that remained outside the scope of this article to expand on, and that we are still to observe in its full long-term effects – but this process has to involve the whole city. It is the relationship between spaces that has to be problematized, not the isolated dynamics within one space only, the favelas. As one Brazilian once said: “As long as the poor are killing each other, the social and political balance stays the same” (Spyer, 1999, p. 278). Focusing on the policemen for blame and favela residents for potential criminals or victims, both usually belonging to the lowest classes in Rio de Janeiro, means overlooking the relevance of the complex dynamics that cross several of Rio’s spaces, racial groups and classes, which both affect and are affected by the current situation.

• ¹
  By January 2015, Complexo da Maré had been militarily occupied in preparation for the 39th UPP, but the UPP had as of yet not been installed.
• ²
  The decrease in favela removals was not absolute. More recently, in the context of the series of sports mega events held in Rio and, in the case of the World Cup, throughout Brazil – beginning with the Pan American Games in 2007 – removals have re-entered public debate. The defense of removals combines concerns over violence, environmental conservation and the need to prepare the city for the games. The case of the community Vila Autódromo, located in Barra da Tijuca and adjacent to the Olympic Park, is emblematic. Another removed community was the favela do Metrô, located right next to the Maracanã stadium. For more information on the continuities and discontinuities in the practices and justifications for removals in dictatorship and post-dictatorship Brazil, see Brum (2013).
• ³
  Important here were, just to name a few examples, the 1993 Candelária Church massacre by the military police of eight sleeping homeless children and the bus 174 case, which was televised live and in which a former street child and survivor of the Candeláriamassacre hijacked bus 174, took its passengers hostage and was killed on the way to the police station.
• ⁴
  As the 1970s advanced, the demand for available lands for the real estate market was no longer concentrated in the Zona Sul, where favela removals were mostly concentrated until then. The Plano Lúcio Costa of real estate development and urbanization in the area of the then scarcely inhabited Baixada do Jacarepaguá, where Barra is located, would come as a solution. As the area was urbanised, favela removals increased there as well (Brum, 2013).
• ⁵
  In fact, the first rolezinho was explicitly political and took place in 2000, in the Rio Sul mall in Rio’s upper-middle class neighbourhood Botafogo. That year, members of the homeless movement decided to go for a ‘walkabout’ in Rio Sul to protest against their exclusion. In the documentary that registered this protest (“Hiato”) we can see how the reactions to that group are strikingly similar to the ones afforded to the recent wave of rolezinhos, even though the latter were not always organized with explicitly political motivations. Stores refused to serve the homeless, perplexed at their presence, closing stores and calling the police.
• ⁶
  The war took place in the Northeastern state of Bahia, where thousands of poor settlers had created an autonomous community of religious character. These included freed slaves, indigenous peoples and impoverished farmers and workers. After three military attacks by the Republican forces, the fourth military expedition into Canudos entered the national history as a full-blown massacre of the settlement’s population, including women and children (Levine, 1992).
• ⁷
  Understood as complementary to the military phases of pacification, the Social UPPs promised to work with the communities in their aim to increase public and private services in favelas, such as health provisions and trash collection but also leisure activities and cultural projects. The Social UPPs have been widely criticized for several reasons, such as the lack of equal dialogue in the design and implementation of its policies (Rio On Watch, 2011). It was described by one scholar as a ‘decoration’ of the military UPP (InSightCrime, 2014). Under these attacks, the Social UPP was re-launched in August 2014 as Rio Mais Social (“More Social Rio”) under the coordination of Instituto Pereira Passos in an attempt to distance it from the public policies concerning security. As of the end of 2014, it is implemented in 30 communities. However, when we look at the official website (Rio+Social Website), the close links between the military UPP and Rio+Social become immediately obvious. Its stated goals are namely to help consolidate the pacification process and promote citizenship; promote the favelas’ urban social and economic development and foster the integration of “these areas” into the city. Its effects remain to be seen.

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Publication Dates

• Publication in this collection
  Aug 2015

History

• Received
  30 July 2014
• Accepted
  11 Feb 2015