In the last few weeks in Rio, two different people passed through police checkpoints at two different places in the city. The consequences of these traffic stops reveal the city's social divisions, which in this case was a matter of life and death.
First, a video went viral this month after an irate driver flipped out on a police officer in Rio de Janeiro. It's a clear-cut of example of the "do you know who you're talking to?" attitude of the elite.
On January 30, Rio police tried to pull over a car as a part of a routine traffic stop in the city's West Zone. The driver, 50-year-old Ana Maria Lucas de Souza, refused, and police followed her for over a mile until she finally stopped. She then proceeded to scream at one of the cops and talk loudly on her cell phone. The police officer filmed the incident, which has tens of thousands of views on Youtube and across the web, as the video inspired ridicule and memes on social networks.
"I'm an architect! I can't be arrested," the driver yells in the video. She even tries to grab the camera out of the policeman's hand, and tells the cop: "I'm older than you." When the officer says he's going to tell his supervisor, she tries to pull rank, saying that she knows the higher-ups from working on government building projects. She was charged with contempt and is getting sued by the police officer for moral damages.
In one meme circulating around the web, a photo of the woman appears with the text: "I'm an architect. I'm working on projects for several UPPs [police pacification units]." Then what follows are images of what the government said UPPs would look like, gleaming modern structures, and then what many wound up looking like, which is shipping containers.
Meanwhile, across the city on February 8, another motorist wasn't so lucky. Mototaxi driver Diego da Costa Algarve, age 22, was shot and killed by police after he didn't stop his bike during a traffic stop in the Vila Cruzeiro favela. Some social media users pointed out the hypocrisy of the two incidents.
The shooting caused tensions to run high in the community, sparking protests in Vila Cruzeiro and during the victim's burial. Schools and businesses even shut down and around 100 mototaxi drivers demonstrated on Avenida Brasil this week. Rio State Secretary José Mariano Beltrame admitted the killing was wrong, and called it "disastrous." The homicide is now under investigation.
In Brazil, there's a saying: "Bandido bom é bandido morto." A good criminal is a dead criminal. It's the kind of perspective that forms when under the constant threat of violent crime. Though the death penalty is banned in Brazil, killings of alleged, assumed, and accused criminals happen often. More often than not, victims of extrajudicial murders, particularly at the hands of police, are black and poor. When a white, middle class person becomes the victim, it's a different story.
This issue came to the fore this week when a man named Marco Archer became the first Brazilian national to be executed abroad. The 53-year-old convicted of drug trafficking in Indonesia died by firing squad. President Dilma Rousseff herself appealed to her Indonesian counterpart on humanitarian grounds, but her request for clemency was denied. Brazil recalled its ambassador from Jakarta, and Rousseff said there would be diplomatic consequences.
The failed appeal wasn't just an effort to save a fellow citizen. Brazil bans the death penalty, and maximum prison sentences are capped at 30 years. By law, Brazil will not extradite foreigners who will face a life sentence or a death sentence in their country of origin. In Archer's case, the Brazilian government asked for his extradition so he could serve his jail sentence in Brazil.
Archer was a confessed criminal. He was a seasoned international drug trafficker who began hauling cocaine and other drugs in the 1980s across Latin America, the United States, Europe, and Indonesia. He grew up middle class in Rio's Ipanema neighborhood, and was a professional hang glider. As he began trafficking, he became a playboy, traveling the world and living large. But at one point, he got into a bad accident while hang gliding, ending in a long recovery and expensive hospital bills. So he went on a new smuggling trip to Indonesia, where he was arrested in 2003.
In a 2005 interview with a Brazilian journalist, he proudly said: "I've never paid income taxes, I've never had a checkbook, I never served in the army. I only voted once in my life, for Collor, a family friend." On his storied trafficking career, he said: "I've never had another job in my life."
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The execution has divided Brazilians. Some say he deserved it, along the lines of bandido bom, bandido morto school of thought. Others have expressed outrage from a human rights perspective. Amnesty International Brazil Executive Director Atila Roque told Reuters:
"The impression that Indonesia is giving to the world is that the country is moving backwards, that it is decidedly willing to disrespect something which is so important for the world today. The world is moving forwards in reducing, suspending and halting the executions, and Indonesia is saying 'no.'"
"Dear Brazilian drug trafficker...do the exact same thing in Indonesia that you do in Rio's favelas or the outskirts of São Paulo, and get executed by the Indonesian government after a trial, instead of summarily, in the street, by a Brazilian military policeman. (Ah, to be Carioca, white, middle class; having a cool profession also helps. Avoid being black at all costs!)"
While Brazilian law prohibits the death penalty, in reality executions by state agents are common in Brazil. Between 2009 and 2013, over 11,000 Brazilians were killed by police, according to the Forum Brasileira de Segurança Pública. Last year, killings by police rose 30 percent in Rio de Janeiro, and nearly 29 percent in São Paulo. On average, police kill six people each day.
Black Brazilians are much more likely to be executed by police. In general, nearly three-quarters of Brazilian homicide victims are black. And in São Paulo, for example, police kill blacks at a rate three times higher than of whites.
Youth are often targets. One particularly terrible case happened this month in Rio de Janeiro. Patrick Ferreira Queiroz, age 11, was shot three times in the back by police during an alleged shoot-out with drug traffickers in the North Zone favela where the boy lived. Military police, part of the local "pacification" unit, claim Patrick was armed, and said they found drugs and a gun in his belongings. His father denies he had a gun, and his cousin said she witnessed police targeting and executing him, shooting him multiple times at close range. Police had detained Patrick a week before his death on suspicion of working for drug traffickers, but he wasn't charged and was released. One of Patrick's older brothers had also been recently detained for alleged ties to trafficking. Patrick had dropped out of school six months earlier, and was reportedly working at a local café.
Patrick was buried the day he would have turned 12. The shooting is now under investigation.
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In 2008, one of Brazil's most famous actors starred in a movie called "Meu Nome Não É Johnny." It's based on the true story of a white, upper-middle-class Carioca who became a drug trafficker, got caught, and was given a minimal jail sentence of two years, during which time he redeemed himself and got his life back on track. It's a vivid example of the vast differences in how judicial systems treat white and black drug offenders, as well as wealthy and poor offenders.
A documentary on Archer's life is already in the works. But don't expect a movie about Patrick any time soon.
Over the past few months, I've witnessed thousands of fellow New Yorkers hit the streets to protest in favor of civil rights, and through social media I've seen friends around the country speak out against racial injustice. The cases of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Tamir Rice have brought issues to the fore that have galvanized young people all over the United States. These three cases have come to represent the many young black men who die violently each year. In the United States, young black men are 21 times more likely to be shot and killed by police than their white counterparts, and the overall homicide rate for black male teenagers is more than 20 times higher than that of white male teens.
It's a similar story in Brazil, but one that people don't often talk about. In Brazil, 30,000 people ages 15 to 29 are murdered each year, or around 82 young people killed every day. Of those victims, 77 percent are black. On average, police kill more than five people daily. And overall, only 5 to 8 percent of homicides go to trial.
In spite of these overwhelming numbers, Brazil hasn't had a big case to widely stir people to action--yet.
With this in mind, I asked Alexandre Ciconello, a human rights adviser at Amnesty International Brazil, about his organization's mission to raise awareness about this issue and how Brazil's struggle with black deaths parallels the same problem in United States. Ciconello monitors issues of public security, violence, and the judicial system.
What's the purpose of Amnesty's campaign Jovem Negro Vivo, or Black Youth Alive, launched in November?
Black Youth Alive is an Amnesty International campaign that seeks to put an end to the high number of homicides and of black youth in particular. Through communication, social media, and activism, we hope to put a stop to people's indifference in relation to the high rates of youth homicides, especially black youth in Brazil, so people mobilize and speak out in favor of youth staying alive.
This initiative is relevant given the rise in murders in Brazil. Plus, there's been a trend in recent years in which the number of homicides among the black population has risen, while the murder rate fell among the white population. The main group of victims are black youth, many of them residents of favelas or city outskirts. The majority of victims' profiles (male, young, black), compounded with racism, contribute to the fact that society doesn't mobilize to address this problem and to demand an end to these deaths.
The campaign includes publicizing a number of statistics. Which fact surprised you the most?
The fact that surprised me the most was that Brazil more homicides than any country in the world. There were 56,000 murders in 2012. Of those, 30,000 victims were youth, and 77 percent of youth victims were black. Never has there been so much murder in Brazil, and it's shocking to see the selectivity of victims' profiles.
In the United States, there are protests going on about black youth killed by police. Do you see similarities between the #BlackLivesMatter movement in the United States and Amnesty's campaign?
Michael Brown's murder in August took place in a poor, black suburb. The same thing happens every day in Brazil. Black youth are the most affected by violence and we know that a part of these murders are the result of police action. Both in the United States and Brazil, there's a legacy of social exclusion and discrimination associated with black youth, which should be widely discussed and repudiated. The difference is that in the United States, the death of this young man by police stirred people and caused outrage, while in Brazil these stories rarely reach the back pages of newspapers and society deals with this as if violent death was the inevitable fate of these young people.
In Brazil, there have been local protests against people killed by police (like Amarildo, for example). In Brazil, could national protests take place as a result of a case like this?
That's our hope, but before that we need to break this pact of silence that exists in relation to these deaths, with rare exceptions. Society's indifference toward so many lives lost is one of our greatest disgraces. All of these deaths represent a tragedy and an irreversible loss. Society has a strategic role to ensure that this reality changes.
Flamengo is a picturesque middle-class neighborhood in Rio that sits on the Guanabara Bay with tree-lined streets and upscale apartment buildings. There's a big park on the water filled with joggers and bikers, and soccer games going on at all hours of the day and night. In this area, you can catch breathtaking views of the bay and Sugarloaf Mountain, and Corovado looming above the water. But on January 31, a Flamengo resident came upon a completely unexpected sight in this neighborhood--a sight that sparked national furor. It was a young black man stripped naked, beaten, and chained to a post with a bike lock around his neck. It wasn't only shocking, but it brought to mind the type of scene you'd see during the slavery age. And like the rolezinhos, the incident represents a perfect storm related to issues of race, class, and security.
Slowly, details emerged about the incident. The young man is only 15 years old. According to Folha, he said that a group of 30 men, some of whom were on motorcycles and one of whom was armed, surrounded him and three other young men. Two got away, but he and the other man were beaten; he said the men threatened to kill him. The young man is from an impoverished part of the city's West Zone, and claims he was kicked out of his house, where he was living with his mother, by the militias, armed paramilitary-like groups that emerged as vigilantes and as criminals in their own right. He said he's been homeless and has been living on the streets and in a shelter. He's been arrested three times for robbery, reports G1.
The woman who found him, who happens to work with at-risk kids, called the fire department to have the young man freed; he was later taken to the hospital. She took a photo of the young man and shared it on Facebook to denounce the incident. But some of the reactions were undeniable: they praised the people who did this, saying the man deserved it. And some people directed their wrath toward her, leading her to close her personal Facebook account.
Reports emerged about a group of middle-class vigilantes who were responsible for the incident. Around 14 people were detained by police. They denied being part of the "Justiceiros," a vigilante group operating in Flamengo and other middle class neighborhoods in the city to "take justice into their own hands." The group is also suspected of beating two young men in another part of the city. The suspects were all freed by police.
O Dia reports that these kind of vigilante incidents have become "routine" and cited two other incidents of alleged thieves getting chased and beaten in Copacabana and Centro in the last two weeks. In Centro, a policeman told the paper, it's common for suspects to be apprehended by civilians before they're turned over to police.*
The reactions were divided among those who denounced the incident and those who defended the vigilantes. "The first victim of a vigilante is the democratic idea of justice. Any justifiable pretense is an inherent shortcut to barbarity," wrote the Rio state attorney general on Twitter.
A primeira vítima de um justiceiro é a idéia democrática de justiça. Toda razão pretensamente justificadora embute um atalho para a barbárie
Similarly, Átila Roque, the executive director of Amnesty International Brasil, said that Rio cannot tolerate vigilantes at the risk of creating more violence. "It's another sign of how much we can sink as a society when public institutions are unable to respond to the state of social emergency in which we live," he said.
On the other hand, there were those who came to the defense of the vigilantes. Controversial pundit Rachel Sheherazade initially praised the vigilantes, saying they acted in "legitimate collective defense" against "an endless state of violence." Later, facing criticism, she backpedaled, saying she is against violence. But her supporters continued to stand up for her, including infamous evangelical pastor Pastor Silas Malafaia, who wrote on Twitter that Sherazade "defends Christian values."
The incident also saw support from some in the Flamengo area. After a shoot-out in neighboring Botafogo this week, passers-by who saw suspects getting arrested shouted "Chain them up!"
It's important to understand both views on the incident, because it encompasses a much larger issue about vigilantism in a country that continues to struggle with crime, impunity, and rule of law.
Let's start on the local level. In Flamengo, muggings more than doubled from 2012 to 2013. Just last week, a cyclist was stabbed during a mugging in Flamengo's Aterro park, even though it was full of people. In Rio, crime is on the rise after a period of improvements. In the first nine months of 2013, muggings went up 15 percent, and after three years of a decline in homicides, murders are on the uptick. In the first ten months of last year, the number of shooting victims rose 27 percent. This week, a man was executed in broad daylight in Rio's gritty Belford Roxo area, and in the city's working class North Zone, a hospital experienced a mass mugging as ten armed gunmen robbed patients and staff alike. And believe it or not, it's the second time in a month that this hospital has been robbed in this manner.
There's also the anger that comes from getting robbed in a country where the tax burden is over 36 percent of GDP, where taxes mean many consumer goods are prohibitively expensive, and where a rising cost of living continues to erode salaries both for the working and middle classes. In a country where a professional can spend a month's salary on a smartphone, it's no wonder there's a lot to lose in a mugging.
Finally, there's the issue of the criminal and judicial system. With tenuous rule of law, an inefficient and corrupt police force, and a slow and problematic criminal justice system, some Brazilians just want to see swift results because they've come to expect failures by the state. Also, because minors under 18 cannot be tried as adults, they won't go to prison even if they commit serious crimes like murder. And even if an adult commits murder, he's unlikely to go to prison: less than 10 percent of homicides in Brazil end in an arrest. Impunity is too often the rule rather than the exception, and when crimes do get solved, the court cases can drag on for years, even a decade.
If you ask Brazilians if they've experienced vigilantism, they may be cautious in revealing details, but it's an issue that touches people across the socioeconomic spectrum and across the country, whether they have seen it, heard about it, or even been a part of it. Whether it's chasing after a thief, hunting down a suspect, or seeing a criminal nearly getting lynched by a crowd, you'll find examples even in the country's biggest cities. In fact, an erroneous report was circulating on social media this week of a second incident of a youth getting stripped and chained to a post, this time in Botafogo. This event actually took placein 2010, so this week's incident isn't a first. And while the Flamengo ocurrence may not be rare, it was exceptionally brazen and unusually cruel.
Beyond these factors, Brazil has a long history of vigilantes, particularly in the country's Northeast, an area traditionally run by strongmen in a feudalistic manner. It was something of the Wild West, and outlaws like Lampião and Maria Bonita who robbed and killed in defiance of the powerful landowners have become folk heroes. Where there is a lack of authority and a strong state presence, Brazilians have created their own form of justice. Even today, Rio's criminal groups, be it the drug traffickers or militias, continue to fill a power vacuum, acting as judge and executioner in the areas they control.
Incidents like this one may be shocking, but they''ll continue to happen until Brazilians not only trust the police to do their job, but also trust the country's institutions to bring criminals to justice.
Though there hasn't been a major rolezinho in over a week, the debate about these mass teen gatherings continues to rage in Brazil. Over the weekend, several protests in favor of rolezinhos took place in at least five cities, and more are planned throughout the country in coming weeks.
So what's the latest on the rolezinho front?
Hearing from rolezinho participants: First, with a media firestorm, some outlets have made an effort to give a voice to the rolezinho participants themselves. G1 did a nice roundup of perspectives from teens in São Paulo, and many echoed the idea that the rolezinhos are meant to be a social gathering, one in which members of the opposite sex can meet. Some also highlighted them as opportunities to show off clothes, to eat at McDonalds (which is still seen as a cool luxury for the new middle class), and the lack of other places to go.
International coverage from The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal also included quotes from rolezinho participants. To its credit, VEJA São Paulo did an interesting report and talked to some of the organizers.
The Brazilian debate: Rolezinhos have inspired a fierce public debate about race, class, and Brazil's evolving socioeconomic reality. The media has been continually spinning stories about the phenomenon. Sociologists continue claiming these acts are political protests versus opponents of rolezinhos, who argue the kids are hoodlums. In a popular interview in which she argued with finance reporters about the health of the Brazilian economy, Luiza Trajano of retail giant Magazine Luiza essentially defended the rolezinhos, saying youth didn't have other places to go and compared them to the June protests.
Plus, people are still talking about them on social media. A widely circulated video revealed that some people really do deny the rolezinho debate stems from racism. It features a supposedly wealthy Carioca arguing with a protester dressed as Batman during the rolezinho protest outside Rio's upscale Leblon mall on Sunday. Piauí Herald, akin to the Onion, published a funny satirical piece in which the city of Miami banned Brazilian socialites, nouveau riche, TV personalities, and liberal bloggers from gathering at its malls.
Meanwhile, there's been an effort to defend rolezinho participants beyond the sociological angle. New middle class guru Renato Meireilles pointed out that across Brazil, youth from Brazil's C class, or new middle class, have an estimated $54.4 billion in purchasing power, which is more than the purchasing power of the A, B, and D classes combined.
Finally, some have pointed out that rolezinhos are not necessarily a "new" phenomenon, but have been happening on a small scale for years. In 2000, there was even a case of a group of protesters "occupying" a Rio mall (there's a short documentary about it.)
What's next: Rolezinhos have left policymakers very worried, all the way up to President Dilma Rousseff. The Brazilian Association of Mall Store Owners has confirmed a meeting with the president next week, and said it would to help organize entertainment events for youth in São Paulo in order to prevent rolezinhos from happening. Meanwhile, the association also announced this week that mall traffic has fallen 25 percent due to the rolezinhos. Shopping Itaquera, the site of two major rolezinhos, has spent over $126,000 on security, training, and legal fees due to the rolezinhos. Clearly, the malls want to make this a business case, but there are bigger issues at play.
In São Paulo, the rolezinhos have inspired talk of providing free entertainment and leisure activities for youth from the city outskirts. At the same time, the São Paulo government wants to keep these same kids from hanging out on the streets and listening to loud music in their own neighborhoods. São Paulo Mayor Fernando Haddad is advocating for these same teens to go to so-called "community clubs" where they can listen to funk music and hang out, instead of listening to loud music, particularly funk, in their cars and on the street. This comes after the mayor signed a law which will fine people R$1,000 for listening to loud music on the street and on sidewalks.
The World Cup: The rolezinhos have nothing to do with the World Cup. Really, they don't. The most likely impact they could have is in the international media itself, making a big deal out of something that is not related to the games at all. The only possible connection they could have is if large-scale rolezinhos happen beginning in May or June, which is really hard to tell at this point. During those months, street protests specifically aimed at the Cup seem more likely. The rolezinhos are an entirely different story.
When you think about social conflict in Brazil, you probably don't think of a mall. But in recent months, the mall has become the epicenter of a different kind of protest in and around Brazil's largest city, a protest that has fractured along class lines and has divided Brazilians.
What are the rolezinhos?
The so-called "rolezinhos no shopping" began in December in São Paulo. These are mass mall gatherings organized on Facebook, made up of young people, largely working class from the city outskirts. Hundreds, and even thousands of teens show up for these events. They're not explicitly political in nature; they're meant to be social, as well as for flirting and meeting members of the opposite sex.
The first major rolezinho took place December 8 at Shopping Metrô Itaquera, allegedly drawing 6,000 teens and leading to rumors of theft and mass muggings. The mall administrators deny there was a wave of robberies, but three people were arrested for stealing. On December 14, another rolezinho in Guarulhos drew around 2,500 teens, causing panic. Even though there were no reports of robberies, the police took 22 youth into custody reportedly for being "about to start" a mass robbery. Rio-based writer J.P. Cuenca joked on Twitter that police in Brazil are so efficient that "Minority Report" isn't science fiction there. The third rolezinho that month took place on December 22, right before Christmas, at Shopping Interlagos. Ten military police teams were summoned, and despite no reports of robbery, four youth were taken into custody. [See G1's helpful timeline of the events.]
This month, a rolezinho at Shopping Tucuruvi on January 4 caused the mall to shut down. On January 11, Shopping Metrô Itaquera had another rolezinho. But this time, police responded with force, using tear gas and rubber bullets, and cops were caught on video beating teens with nightsticks. Several robberies were reported.
Meanwhile, the same weekend, at least six malls in São Paulo got court orders to block the rolezinhos, stationing police and security outside to bar unaccompanied minors from entering. Átila Roque, the head of Amnesty International in Brazil, said the actions of police and mall administrators were discriminatory and racist. [Read the full Q&A here.] But São Paulo state's secretary of public security has vowed to employ police for upcoming rolezinhos planned this month. [See a map of past and upcoming rolezinhos in São Paulo.]
Numerous solidarity rolezinhos are planned in Rio this week, with nearly 8,000 RSVPed for a rolezinho at Rio's upscale Shopping Leblon. Rio authorities are being cautious and say they don't anticipate sending police, but that remains to be seen.
Why are the rolezinhos controversial?
On one hand, some are calling the response to the rolezinhos as "apartheid," and see the rolezinhos as a protest against oppression and a way to make white, upper-class Brazilians uncomfortable in a normally safe space. One of the organizers of the Guarulhos protest, Jefferson Luís, told G1: "It's not a protest, it's a response to oppression. It doesn't work to just stay shut up at home." São Paulo sociologist Marília Moschkovich wrote on her blog that the rolezinhos are a "weapon in the fight for a truly equal society." They're also intimately related to the June protests, she says, as youth organize and occupy space. With expensive and shoddy public transportation--an issue that sparked those protests--youth have limited access to public space, as well as cultural and leisure activities.
On the other hand, some see the teens as vandals who are invading private property. In this camp, rolezinho participants are frequently associated with funk, a genre of music from favelas. One columnist from conservative magazine VEJA went as far as to call rolezinho participants "barbarians incapable of recognizing their own inferiority, who are deathly jealous of civilization." Wow.
And in a widely circulated blog post, journalist Leandro Beguoci explains, based on personal experience growing up in the poor outskirts of São Paulo, that both the left and the right are incorrect in their hysterical responses to the rolezinhos. He says that both end up dehumanizing the real protagonists, and that they miss the point. The rise of a new middle class with access to more expensive consumer goods means these teens have already been consistently frequenting malls; they're not "occupying" them. And they're promoting the use of name brands, not criticizing consumerism, he says. Despite the fears of mall administrators who got the court orders this weekend, the teens aren't going to the city's most expensive malls where they would likely feel out of place. Beguoci defends the argument that the gatherings are social rather than political in nature, and are amplified because of the reach of social media.
What are the factors at play with the rolezinho?
Race: This is the most obvious and most uncomfortable issue at hand. The majority of those involved in the rolezinhos are teens of color, and large groups of black youth inevitably come under scrutiny, whether in Brazil or countries like the United States, for that matter.
But for some Brazilians in the upper class, it's still a new concept that black Brazilians have become consumers, the kind of people who go to malls and airports and aren't just janitors and maids. In one incident in 2009, for example, a black man was nearly beaten to death in the suburbs of São Paulo for driving an SUV; security guards at a Carrefour thought he was stealing it. Unfortunately, some see Brazilians of color as out of place in places like malls--places they used to rarely or never frequent before the growth of the new middle class.
Social class tensions: Those who participate in rolezinhos are largely from the lower or working classes, and the malls that got court orders include some of the fanciest in the city. But a lot has to do with ongoing tensions with the new middle class, a new group of consumers that the traditional middle class and upper class still haven't gotten used to.
São Paulo-based journalist Juliana Cunha told me her perspective. "It's the fruit of the Lula years. This is a section of the population that became consumers, but not citizens, as Vladimir Safatle once said," Cunha explained. "I think that the people who are consumers (before they weren't even that) discovered that they don't have the same rights as other consumers and that consumption won't change their situation. That's why this mall invasion is emblematic, and that's also why there's this counter-movement by the middle class that seeks 'simplicity' and doesn't want name brands anymore. Now it's cool to have a Brazilian-sounding name, to eat food from the North made by Alex Atala, to travel to the country's interior. Doing all of this to differentiate themselves from the poor who can now buy R$1,000 sneakers and fly to Miami."
In an interview with El País, anthropologist Alexandre Barbosa Pereira Pereira gives a similar view. "Is it that the middle class thinks these youth are 'stealing' their exclusive right to consume?" he asks. He goes on to explain why the rolezinhos are making the middle class uncomfortable. "The discomfort in seeing poor people occupy a place they shouldn't be, like seeing consumers buy certain products that should be more expensive...they can be funkeiros, poor people, or mixed race from the city outskirts, but they can also be maids, delivery boys, taggers," he says. "The rolezinhos aren't protests against malls or consumption, but are affirmations of: 'We want to be in this world of consumerism, in the temples of consumption.'"
Public space: It's important to note that the rolezinhos began in São Paulo, and not a coastal city. Time will tell if real (and not "protest") rolezinhos take off in Rio, but my personal theory is that because Rio has vitally important public space--the beach--there's an outlet for teens who want to hang out in groups. Meanwhile, São Paulo and its suburbs are several hours away from the beach.
But one thing that paulistas and cariocas from working-class neighborhoods do have in common is that in their neighborhoods, public spaces are often small or non-existent. Desirable public spaces, like São Paulo's Ibirapuera Park, for example, are far away and require long, expensive trips on public transportation.
"I think it has to do with the right to the city," Rio-based writer Julia Michaels told me. "[It's the] feeling one can be anyone, go anywhere."
Security: Despite a homicide rate that's been falling over the past decade, São Paulo has an increasing crime problem, especially with robberies and muggings. So malls provide a safe haven and a protected public space for those who worry about carjackings or even mass muggings in restaurants. Malls are like bunkers, Beguoci wrote in his post; upscale malls tend to have few pedestrian entrances, or even none. Because of the added security bonus, shopping centers are sacred, and this is true across the country. Regardless of whether or not crimes actually happen during the rolezinhos, these events have inspired fear of arrastões, or mass muggings, in a place that is traditionally seen as safe and crime-free.
Social Media: Technological advances and digital inclusion are also a major factor behind the rolezinhos. With over 80 million Brazilians online in a country that's crazy for social media, Facebook has become an important platform to connect youth. The rise of internet use in Brazil has overlapped with the expansion of the new middle class, meaning that poor and working-class youth are often the first in their families to get online. And with a booming smartphone market, it's even easier for young people to connect on the go and in real time: over half of Brazilian internet users get online on their phones. That includes the new middle class: the C class accounts for about 35 percent of smartphone users. Smartphones are a major status symbol, and as such are a coveted item among young people.
President Rousseff with university students from Pernambuco, a state that is 58% multiracial and black.
May 13 marked the 125th anniversary of the signing of the Lei Áurea, the law that abolished slavery in Brazil. More than a century after Princess Isabel penned the law, Brazilians of African descent have 1.6 fewer years of schooling than their white counterparts, and earn about 60 percent of what whites earn. Black Brazilians represent 65 percent of homicide victims, and have an infant mortality rate 60 percent higher than white Brazilians. Black Brazilians make up about 60 percent of the prison population, and have an average life expectancy of six years less than white Brazilians. There's a lot of sixes.
To try to correct these historic inequities stemming from slavery, the Brazilian government has made efforts to pass legislation to ensure rights and equal opportunities for black Brazilians. But can one legislate a change in culture?
The first law was passed in August 2012, requiring public universities to set aside half of their spots for public high school students, largely aiming to benefit black Brazilians. And though racial quotas had been in place at numerous universities for at least a decade, the law inspired and continues to inspire controversy. There are those who argue that race in Brazil is too hard to define, and that social class should be a basis for quotas. Some say the system is easy to exploit. There are those who argue that quotas incite more racism, and lower the quality of education. And there are those who simply deny that racism or racial inequality exists at all. Early results show that quotas actually have the opposite effect, since in some universities, affirmative action students tend to get higher grades than their counterparts (though they tend to do worse on standardized testing, according to one study). I recently had a conversation with a black professional from Rio and a white journalist from São Paulo who both explained why they oppose quotas based on a variety of the aforementioned reasons.
"The worst still are those people (many of whom are black) that are against quotas (and other similar things), arguing that they 'never needed them.' And I consider this and say: 'I agree, of course, how could I not? And what's more, I'm also against that whole dialisis thing in public hospitals and wheelchair ramps in buildings.' All that happened yesterday, and continues happening today. The past, like a stone thrown in a lake, creates ripples in the water and has an effect on the present. The past is the present. Racial quotas are necessary today not to correct the historic injustices of the past, but to correct the daily injustices of the present."
Even though Brazilians of African descent make up at least half of the population, only 6 percent of university students are black. That university classrooms have historically been largely white means a major sea change for establishing a more diverse student population. It means changing not only the culture of colleges, but the concept that universities should no longer be centers of privilege.
Then there's the Domestics Law, which was signed in March and went into effect in April. The law has revealed a serious culture clash between the past of slavery and the modern reality of labor rights. Brazil has nearly 7 milliondomésticas, more household servants than any other country. The majority are women, and over half are black. Now, household workers have the same labor rights as formal-sector workers, like a 44-hour work week, a lunch hour, overtime, and unemployment insurance.
The fear is that the law could lead to mass layoffs--around 815,000, by one estimation. Some have complained that they won't be able to afford maids anymore; conservative magazine VEJA published a calculator to determine how much maids will cost under the new law. It also published a cover story about the law with an image of an unhappy man doing the dishes with the headline: "You tomorrow." Globo published a piece about what it will mean for families that have to do their own cooking and cleaning. One psychoanalyst quoted in the story predicted "emotional confusion" and a higher rate of divorces.
Historians compared the legislation to the Lei Áurea, saying it was a watershed moment for black Brazilians. Slavery created a "strongly exclusionary society, despite appearing racially diverse and having social mobility," said UFRJ Professor Flávio Gomes. "My surprise, with the domestics law, is the fact that these workers were in a category of "nearly citizens" in terms of workers rights."
Even today, many middle-class homes, even small ones, have a room and sometimes a separate bathroom for a domestic worker. Relationships between maids and families are complex; the movie "Neighboring Sounds" illustrates this phenomenon well. The law aims to change this, in theory, moving from a slave-owner relationship to one of worker-employer. "We’re shutting down the last of the slave quarters and throwing away the key," Senate President Renan Calheiros said last month.
But will the law work? Will families fire their maids? Will they simply ignore the law and risk being taken to court for inevitably lengthy labor lawsuits? Or will they ignore the law and count on the maid not to complain? Or will unwillingly go along with the new rules? Laws in Brazil sometimes "don't stick," and this is an interesting one to watch.
But the bigger question is if the law will actually change the culture of domestic employment. My guess is: not anytime soon. There has been talk of maid shortages due to women moving into other professions, another element of pressure on people employing domestics. My guess is that if these shortages continue and if families fear backlash from not obeying the new law, they may turn to foreign workers, which has already started happening in São Paulo. Brazil has become an increasingly bigger destination for immigrants, and low-paying jobs that involve going around labor laws are natural magnets for foreign workers.
One can look to other countries, like the United States, to try to see if legislation like affirmative actions works or has a sizeable impact. But how long laws take to change a deeply rooted culture is much more difficult to define.
