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PACifying Alemão : articulations of public security, market formalization, and autoconstruction in Rio… Prouse, Valerie Carolyn 2017

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  PACIFYING ALEMÃO: ARTICULATIONS OF PUBLIC SECURITY, MARKET FORMALIZATION, AND AUTOCONSTRUCTION IN RIO DE JANEIRO   by  VALERIE CAROLYN PROUSE  B.A./B.P.H.E., Queen’s University, 2008 M.A., Queen’s University, 2011      A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF   DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY   in   THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES  (Geography)    THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA  (Vancouver)      October 2017    © Valerie Carolyn Prouse, 2017   	 ii			Abstract   The complex of favelas known as Complexo do Alemão in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil has recently been targeted by two large-scale state projects: infrastructural upgrading via the country’s Growth Acceleration Program (PAC, or “urbanization”) and military police occupation via the Police Pacifying Unit program (UPP, or “pacification”). In this dissertation I focus on the various regimes of power, profit, and discourse that constitute these state presences. Based on participant observation, interviews, policy analysis, and popular discourse analysis, I argue that a global urban research agenda requires theorizing in historically and geographically-situated ways. Inspired by the Gramscian tradition, by Brazilian urbanists, by modernity/coloniality scholars of Latin America, and by local activists, I develop a conceptual framework that integrates four different characteristics of urbanization projects. They are informed by historical processes; shaped by flows of capital, people, and policy; negotiated between civil society and state; and influenced by myriad regimes of power. Through this framework I make two related arguments. First, I argue that PAC and pacification strategies overlap in a nexus that I call PACification. PACification joins together marketization, the construction of racialized threats, and violent securitization. It manifests in strategies to attract international investment, extend microfinance, enroll people in mortgages, and foment entrepreneurial behavior, often informed by military police violence. Second, I argue that residents’ and activists’ modes of autoconstruction – in which people build their own communities often over generations – are central to the contemporary manifestation of PACification. Presently, residents are not only building communities out of bricks and mortar, but also through discourses, images, texts, and digital practices in order to safeguard their neighbours and to improve their daily lives.   	 iii			Lay Summary  Rio de Janeiro’s low-income communities have recently become sites of government programs and investment designed to “upgrade” favelas, to improve the lives of their residents, and to redirect money to state-supported public and private entities. Drawing from field research in one such community, Complexo do Alemão, this dissertation examines the relationship between two of these large-scale state projects: infrastructural upgrading via the country’s Growth Acceleration Program (PAC); and military police occupation via the Police Pacifying Unit program (UPP). I call the nexus of these programs PACification. I find that, first, PACification echoes and transforms a longer history of exploitation of racialized peoples and low-income communities by state officials and military police to secure infrastructure and attract international business investment. Second, I find that favela residents’ reactions and resistance are both influential in shaping the implementation of these projects and integral to residents’ sense of community.     	 iv			Preface     This dissertation is original and independent work of the author, Valerie Carolyn Prouse.    Material from Chapters 2 and 7 has been accepted for publication in the peer-reviewed journal Antipode:   Prouse, Carolyn (forthcoming) Autoconstruction 2.0: Social Media Contestations of Racialized Violence in Complexo do Alemão. Antipode: A Radical Journal of Geography.    The fieldwork reported throughout the dissertation was conducted under Ethics Certificate H13-02998 of UBC’s Behavioral Research Ethics Board. The certificate was granted for the project entitled Occupied Brazil (full title: Transforming the Right to the City through habitation development programs in Brazilian urban contexts)   	 v			Table of Contents   Abstract ................................................................................................................................ ii  Lay Summary .................................................................................................................... iii  Preface ................................................................................................................................ iv  Table of Contents ................................................................................................................. v  List of Figures .................................................................................................................. viii  Glossary ............................................................................................................................... x  Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................... xv  Dedication ........................................................................................................................ xvii  Chapter 1: Introduction: PACifying Alemão ....................................................................... 1 1.1 Research Journey .................................................................................................... 4 1.2 The Argument ......................................................................................................... 6 1.3 Brief Note on Favelas ........................................................................................... 11 1.4 Dissertation Outline .............................................................................................. 13 1.5 Figures for Chapter 1 ............................................................................................ 17  Part 1: Foundations ............................................................................................................ 20  Chapter 2: Situating a Conjunctural Urbanism .................................................................. 21 2.1 “Walking With” Organizers  ................................................................................ 23 2.2 Theoretical Provocations Concerning the “Urban”  ............................................. 27 2.2.1 Postcolonial Provocations ............................................................................. 29 2.2.2 Decolonial Provocations ............................................................................... 31 2.2.3 Favelas and Marginality Debates .................................................................. 33 2.3 Towards a Postcolonial Conjunctural Urbanism .................................................. 36 2.3.1 Historical Determination/Overdetermination ............................................... 39 2.3.2 Relationality (of Political and Civil Society, and of Favelas) ...................... 41 2.3.3 Interscalar Analysis ....................................................................................... 44 2.3.4 Dual Modes of Articulation .......................................................................... 46 2.4 Methods “In the Field” (or “How I Did It”) ......................................................... 51 2.5 Figures for Chapter 2 ............................................................................................ 54  Chapter 3: Histories of Urban Upgrading and Public Security in Rio’s Favelas  ............. 58 3.1 History of Urbanization Policies .......................................................................... 60 3.1.1 Favelas as a Problem and Solution for Political Society .............................. 60 	 vi			3.1.2 Non-State Organizing and Insurgent Citizenships ........................................ 62 3.1.3 The Political Interface of Urbanization After the Dictatorship .................... 64 3.1.4 Interscalar Political Alignments and Attracting International Investment ... 66 3.2 Scaling Up Urbanization Through Financial and Patrimonial Channels ............. 68 3.2.1 Historical Determination and “Traditional” Brazilian Patrimonialism ........ 70 3.2.2 Interscalar Flows of Financialized Capital ................................................... 72 3.3 Public Security and Pacification Policies ............................................................. 76 3.4 PAC and Pacification in Complexo do Alemão ................................................... 80 3.4.1 The Growth of Complexo do Alemão as a Contested           Civil/Political Society Interface .................................................................... 80 3.4.2 New Discursive Enunciations and Codifications of           Complexo do Alemão ................................................................................... 84 3.5 Towards the Present .............................................................................................. 87 3.6 Figures for Chapter 3 ............................................................................................ 89  Chapter 4: PACification as the Coloniality of Power ........................................................ 90 4.1 (Re)producing Race and Social Difference through the Coloniality of Power .... 96 4.2 Articulations of Race and Accumulation in Brazil ............................................... 99 4.3 Articulations of Public Security and Infrastructural Development in Brazil ..... 104 4.3.1 Pacifying the National Territory ................................................................. 104 4.3.2 PACifying Rio’s Favelas ............................................................................ 108 4.4 PACification as Coloniality of Power ................................................................ 114 4.5 Articulated Histories of PACification ................................................................ 122 4.6 Figures for Chapter 4 .......................................................................................... 124  Part 2: Contemporary Engagements ................................................................................ 127  Chapter 5: Articulating Corruption in Alemão ................................................................ 128 5.1 Narratives of Circulating Decisions ................................................................... 134 5.1.1 Destabilizing Danger: Origin Stories of the Teleferico Beyond           Consultation ................................................................................................ 135 5.1.2 Corrupted Consultation: (Non)Participatory Logics ................................... 138 5.1.3 Paving Pathways: “Nefarious” Political Entities’ Contestations of           Urbanization’s Geographies ....................................................................... 142 5.2 Narratives of Circulating Capital ........................................................................ 148 5.2.1 Construction Conglomerates ....................................................................... 149 5.2.2 Third Party Contractors .............................................................................. 151 5.2.3 Residents ..................................................................................................... 152 5.3 Articulating Narratives ....................................................................................... 154 5.3.1 Articulation, Take One ............................................................................... 154 5.3.2 Articulation, Take Two ............................................................................... 156 5.4 Figures for Chapter 5 .......................................................................................... 158  Chapter 6: PACification through (Subversive) Formalization ........................................ 160 6.1 Post and Decolonial Approaches to Formality/Informality ................................ 164 6.2 PACification as Formalization ........................................................................... 168 	 vii			6.3 Formalizing Property .......................................................................................... 169 6.3.1 Scene 1: The Public Square ........................................................................ 174 6.4 Formalizing Employment ................................................................................... 176 6.4.1 Scene 2: The Teleferico .............................................................................. 180 6.5 Formalizing Behaviour ....................................................................................... 181 6.5.1 Scene 3: The Minha Casa, Minha Vida Condo Unit .................................. 185 6.6 Ongoing Contested Histories of (Subversive) Formalization ............................. 186 6.7 Figures for Chapter 6 .......................................................................................... 191  Chapter 7: Autoconstruction 2.0: Social Media Contestations of  Racialized Violence ......................................................................................................... 192 7.1 #genocídio .......................................................................................................... 192 7.2 Militarized Urban Control and Regimes of Visible Violence ............................ 196 7.3 Autoconstruction and Social (Media) Mobilizations .......................................... 198 7.4 Digital Visualities: Unsettling Discursive Regimes of        Military Police Violence ..................................................................................... 201 7.5 Crafting New Urban Imaginaries  ...................................................................... 205 7.6 Organizing New Media Collectives ................................................................... 208 7.7 Developing New Digital Applications ............................................................... 212 7.8 Digital Autoconstruction: Social Media Interventions        into Racialized State Violence ............................................................................ 215 7.9 Digital Communities of Care? ............................................................................ 219 7.10 Figures for Chapter 7 ........................................................................................ 221  Chapter 8: Conclusion: Reflecting on the Situated Conjuncture  .................................... 222 8.1 The Argument (Redux) ....................................................................................... 224 8.2 The Situated Conjuncture ................................................................................... 225 8.2.1 Historical Determination ............................................................................. 227 8.2.2 Relationality of Political and Civil Society, and of Favelas ....................... 228 8.2.3 Interscalar Analyses of Space-Time Flows ................................................ 231 8.2.4 Articulation in its Dual Sense ..................................................................... 233 8.2.5 Moving Conjunctural Analyses Forward .................................................... 234 8.3 Final Reflections ................................................................................................. 235 8.4 Figures for Conclusion ....................................................................................... 238  Bibliography .................................................................................................................... 239   	    	 viii			 List of Figures   Figure 1.1   The teleferico of Complexo do Alemão .......................... 17  Figure 1.2   View of Complexo do Alemão from B55's laje .............. 17  Figure 1.3   Me in capoeira practice ................................................... 17  Figure 1.4   Itararé teleferico station ................................................... 18  Figure 1.5   The UPP at Palmeiras teleferico station .......................... 19  Figure 1.6   Barraco #55 ..................................................................... 19  Figure 1.7   My research assistant, Andre Valle ................................. 19  Figure 2.1   A Copa Pra Alemão Ver gathering ................................. 54  Figure 2.2   A Copa Pra Alemão Ver anti-Cup street art .................... 54  Figure 2.3   "Cup for whom?" ............................................................ 54  Figure 2.4   A typical gathering in B55's kitchen ............................... 55  Figure 2.5   B55 residents ................................................................... 55  Figure 2.6   Breakfast at B55 .............................................................. 55  Figure 2.7   The animals of B55 ......................................................... 55  Figure 2.8   A Copa Pra Alemão Ver projection ................................ 56  Figure 2.9   Another A Copa Pra Alemão Ver projection .................. 56  Figure 2.10   "Poverty isn't a case for the police" ............................... 57  Figure 2.11   A Copa Pra Alemão Ver anti-UPP                     and -teleferico street art ................................................... 57  Figure 3.1   Teleferico information sign ............................................. 89  Figure 3.2   Teleferico display  ........................................................... 89  Figure 3.3   View of old Coca Cola factory from teleferico ............... 89 	 ix			 Figure 3.4   PAC construction in Complexo ...................................... 89  Figure 4.1   The military police of the Nova Brasília UPP .............. 124  Figure 4.2   New Blacks Institute and Cemetery (IPN) .................... 124  Figure 4.3   Valongo Wharf .............................................................. 125  Figure 4.4   Bairro Chic event .......................................................... 126  Figure 5.1   Teleferico and concrete ................................................. 158  Figure 5.2   Teleferico inauguration ................................................. 158  Figure 5.3   Remains of PAC-demolished homes ............................ 158  Figure 5.4   Houses demolished for teleferico post .......................... 159  Figure 5.5   IPEA report ................................................................... 159  Figure 5.6   New drainage being installed on Adeus ........................ 159  Figure 5.7   New PAC-funded paved alleway in CPX ..................... 159  Figure 6.1   "UPP + Light = Removals" ........................................... 191  Figure 6.2   Tourist market outside Palmeiras teleferico .................. 191  Figure 6.3   Minha Casa, Minha Vida housing project ..................... 191  Figure 7.1   "Militarization in the favela - Dislike!" ........................ 221  Figure 7.2   Wall commemoration of pacification's homicides ........ 221  Figure 7.3   Capoeira at an anti-pacification event ........................... 221  Figure 8.1   A Copa Pra Alemão Ver setup ...................................... 238    	 x			Glossary  AgeRio: Rio de Janeiro’s State Development Agency  Alemão:  hill in Complexo do Alemão (the complex of favelas takes its name after this one hill); also the name of a station on the teleferico line  Alvorada:  a hill in Complexo do Alemão on which B55 is located; it is also the hill on   which UPP-Nova Brasília and the Itararé teleferico stations are located  Asfalto:  asphalt; a colloquial term used to refer to the formal city, the non-morro  Banco do Brasil: Bank of Brazil  Barraco #55/Barraco/B55: a cultural and research institute in Complexo do Alemão run by Eddu Grau and Ellen Sluis  BNDES:  O Banco Nacional do Desenvolvimento; The Brazilian Development Bank   BNH:   O Banco Nacional da Habitação; National Housing Bank  Bonsucesso:  a neighborhood in the North Zone of Rio de Janeiro located at the base of Complexo do Alemão; also the site of the first teleferico station where the gondola integrates with the train station  BOPE:  O Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais; Police Special Operations Battalion of the PM of Rio de Janeiro  CEF:  Caixa Econômica Federal; Federal Savings Bank   CJ:    Complexo Jornal; Complexo Journal; a Facebook news page  CNPJ:   Cadastro Nacional da Pessoa Jurídica; National Registry of Legal Entities;    the registration of a legal person or entity with the Receita Federal do Brasil   COHAB:  Companhia de Habitação do Estado (State Housing Company)  CPR:  Coletivo Papo Reto (Straight Talk Collective): an anti-militarization collective in CPX  CPX:  Complexo do Alemão/Complexo/Alemão: A complex of favelas in the North Zone of Rio de Janeiro; commonly referred to as “CPX” and “Complexo” by residents who live there, and “Alemão” by those who do not  CRI:    Cartório de Registro de Imóveis; Real Estate Registry Office 	 xi			 Dilma:  Dilma Rousseff; leader of the PT; former President of the Republic of Brazil  Eduardo Paes: former mayor of the city of Rio de Janeiro; affiliated with the PMDB  EMOP:  Empresa de Obras Públicas do Estado do Rio de Janeiro; Public Works Company of the State of Rio de Janeiro; the public company responsible for PAC-Social Work and infrastructural development of PAC-Alemão  Empresa Bacana:“Cool” Company; the municipal program that promotes formalization of businesses in pacified communities  FAFEG:   Federação de Associação de Favelas do Estado da Guanabara; Federation of Favela Associations of the State of Guanabara; became FAFERJ when Guanabara became Rio de Janeiro  FAFERJ:  Federação de Associação de Favelas do Estado do Rio de Janeiro; Federation of Favela Associations of the State of Rio de Janeiro; previously FAFEG  FAT:  Fundo de Amparo ao Trabalhador; The Worker’s Assistance Fund  FGTS : Fundo de Garantia de Tempo de Serviço; Guarantee Fund Based on Service Time Contributions  FI-FGTS:  O Fundo de Investimento do Fundo de Garantia do Tempo de Serviço; The Investment Fund of the Guarantee Fund Based on Service Time Contributions; a special fund of the FGTS used to finance infrastructural projects  FJRF:   Fórum de Juventudes de Rio de Janeiro; Youth Forum of Rio de Janeiro  Fundo UPP Empreendedor: UPP Entrepreneur Fund  IADB:  InterAmerican Development Bank   IPAC:  Instituto de Aposentadorias e Pensões dos Comerciários; The Retirement and Pensions Institute  IPEA:   Instituto de Pesquisa Econômica Aplicada; Institute for Applied Economic Research  IPP:   O Instituto Pereira Passos; Pereira Passos Institute  Itararé:  the name for the teleferico station on Alvorada; the closest station to B55  	 xii			ITERJ:  O Instituto de Terras e Cartografia do Estado do Rio de Janeiro; The Institute of Land and Cartography of the State of Rio de Janeiro  JCN:  Jornal Complexo Noticias; Complexo Notices Journal; a Facebook news page run by a journalist and photographer in CPX  Jovem Negro Vivo: Young Black Alive; an Amnesty International campaign  Lava Jato:  Car Wash; the federal level judicial investigation into graft and bribery scandals targeting many Brazilian politicians and corporations such as Cabral and Odebrecht  Lula:  Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva; former leader of the federal PT; former President of the Republic of Brazil  MCMV:  Minha Casa Minha Vida; My House, My Life; the PT’s federal housing project intended to simultaneously tackle Brazil’s housing deficit and be a counter-cyclic economic program  Morar Carioca: Live Rio; a progressive planning program for favela urbanization of Rio de Janeiro  Morro:  hill; a colloquial term used to refer to the informal city, to favelas  Nós por Nós:  Us for Us; a digital application for police accountability developed by FJRJ  Nova Brasília: a neighborhood that is part of Complexo do Alemão; also the name of the UPP unit located adjacent to the Itararé teleferico station  Odebrecht: one of the Four Sisters of Brazilian construction oligarchies; a central actor in the consortium that won the bid for PAC-Alemão  PAC:  O Programa de Aceleração do Crescimento; Growth Acceleration Program; a project of the former PT government of Brazil focused on mitigating financial crises and upgrading infrastructure throughout the country  PAC-Trabalho Social: PAC Social Work; the body responsible for consulting with the Complexo do Alemão community; administered by EMOP  Palmeiras: a hill in Complexo do Alemão; also the last station on the teleferico line and site of a tourist market  PDT:   O Partido Democrático Trabalhista; Workers’ Democratic Party  PF:   Pastoral das Favelas; Pastoral of Favelas; an entity created by the Catholic Church in 1976 and informed by liberation theology  	 xiii			 PM:    A Polícia Militar; Military Police; a civilian force of the state of Rio de  Janeiro  PMDB:  O Partido do Movimento Democrático Brasileiro; Brazilian Democratic Movement Party  PRONASCI:  O Programa Nacional de Segurança Pública com Cidadania; the Program for Public Security with Citizenship; PAC’s public security program  PT:    O Partido dos Trabalhadores; Workers’ Party  ReM:   Raízes em Movimento; Roots in Movement; a Complexo-based NGO   Rio de Janeiro: both a municipality and a state in Brazil   Rio Mais Social/Rio+Social: Rio Plus Social; formerly UPP Social, now run by the municipality of Rio de Janeiro; focused on social inclusion and economic development programs in pacified favelas  SEBRAE:  O Serviço Brasileiro de Apoio às Micro e Pequenas Empresas; Brazilian Micro and Small Business Support Service; a private entity that promotes competitiveness and sustainable development of small businesses  SEHAB:  A Secretaria de Estado de Habitação de Interesse Social; State Secretary of Social Interest Housing  Sérgio Cabral: former governor of the state of Rio de Janeiro; affiliated with the PMDB; now incarcerated via the Lava Jato investigation for taking bribes while governor  SMDS:  A Secretaria Municipal de Desenvolvimento Social; Municipal Secretary of Social Development  SMH:   A Secretaria Municipal de Habitação; Municipal Secretary of Housing  UPP:  A Unidade de Polícia Pacificadora; Police Pacifying Unit Program; a program administered by the government of the state of Rio de Janeiro; commonly referred to as “pacification”  UPP Social: the former third stage of the UPP program, now called Rio Mais Social  VdC:  Jornal Voz da Comunidade; Voice of the Community Journal; a multi-platform social journalism collective founded in CPX  WB:    World Bank  	 xiv			ZEIS:  also AEIS; Zonas/Áreas Especiais de Interesse Social; Zones or Areas of Special Social Interest; a special planning tool to allow for regularization of low-income areas    	 xv			Acknowledgements As is always the case, this dissertation would never have been possible without the support of friends, family, colleagues, interlocutors, and even critics, near and far. I am particularly indebted to my supervisor, Jamie Peck, who offered intellectual and moral support when necessary, sometimes at a moment’s notice, yet trusted me to pursue my own path. Juanita Sundberg and Jim Glassman have both provided invaluable feedback at all steps during my PhD journey over the past six years – thank you! I am also grateful to Merje Kuus for providing me with initial support in the department. I have benefited from the guidance of many teachers and instructors throughout this process: Rob Beamish, Mary-Louise Adams, Samantha King, Trevor Barnes, Derek Gregory, David Ley, Eugene McCann, and, especially, Gerry Pratt. Staff at UBC geography have been wonderful, and my teaching and researching would not be possible without the ongoing assistance of Jeanne Yang, Connie Cheung, Sumi, Sandy Lapsky, Kevin Gillard, Bret Petersen, Danny Wong, Michael More, and everyone else whose work is more hidden, but also vital, to my ability to do what I do here at UBC.  The research journey is long – exciting, rewarding, exhausting. My sincerest thanks to those who stood by me “in the field,” especially Eddu Grau, Ellen Sluis, Samuel Frederico, Marina Castro de Almeida, and Karin Schwiter for sharing their homes and offering intellectual and emotional support when necessary. I am also grateful for the assistance of Monica Arroyo at the Universidade de São Paulo for an intellectual home away from home. I have made some wonderful friends and benefited from the kindness of many interlocutors in Complexo: thank you to Pilar Barro, Thainã de Medeiros, Viviane Ribeiro, Leila Monteiro, Marcio Cleiton, and all of the residents of Barraco #55 – Dave Rono, Manoe Ruhe, Luca Wyss, Juve Barria Gomez, Ben Stokke, Sara Ulloa, and last, but certainly not least, Felipe the dog (who never let the Polícia Militar forget whose territory they were on). Thanks to Andre Valle, especially, for his extraordinary help and humour. Emily LeBaron, Charli Livingstone, Giordanno Bruno – you all contributed immensely to my ability to realize this project. Thanks, of course, to Mestre Juarez and all the capoeira players, who welcomed me into their midst and humoured A Gringa Capoeirista. I benefited from the support of other crucial interlocutors in Brazil such as Marcos Barcellos, Felipe Magalhães, Chris Gaffney, Bryan 	 xvi			Clift, Amanda De Lisio, Shawn Ford: thank you. And, of course, my sincerest gratitude to all of the (many) people in Complexo with whom I spoke, from whom I bought bread, and who humoured an enthusiastic young Canadian.  My friends, colleagues, and co-authors have been there for me throughout this journey. Thank you to those who constantly push me, intellectually, but who are also ready to share a beer: Jonathan Luedee, Juliane Collard, Rosemary Collard, Dan Cohen, Corin de Freitas, Gavin Weedon, Sophie Webber, Lucas Melgaço, Tom Howard, Max Ritts, Paige Patchin, Cristina Temenos, Jessica Hallenbeck, Dani Aiello, Sarah Brown, and Kelsey Johnson. Thank you, also, to the Vancouver Women’s Health Collective for the friendships I have made, for showing me the necessity of working, constantly, in our own communities, and for allowing me to take part in some small way. Of course none of this would be possible without funding. Thank you to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council for the financial support of the Joseph-Armand Bombardier CGS Doctoral Scholarship and the Michael Smith Foreign Study Supplement. Thank you, also, to the Liu Institute for Global Issues and their generous Bottom Billion Fund. Finally, thank you to those who offered a grad student some much-needed employment: Environment and Planning A, and the UBC Geography Department. Last, but certainly not least, I must thank my family for their ongoing love and support. Thank you to Christine James and Sandy Rennie who, no matter how far away, are always ready with a kind word and welcoming home. Thank you to my sister, Suzanne Prouse, for her invaluable, ever-present support from across the country via text and phone, and in-person from Toronto to Lapa. Also, to Marley, the dog, who always keeps me grounded, reminding me that sometimes eating, resting, and fresh air are more important than sitting in front of a computer. And, finally, I could not have easily completed the day-to-day tasks associated with the PhD – cooking, writing, thinking, sleeping, taking breaks, eating – without Mark Stoller. For your constant intellectual engagement and emotional and material support, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart.   	 xvii			      To those missing from our lives, from Complexo do Alemão, Brazil to Toronto, Canada 	  	 1			Chapter 1: Introduction: PACifying Alemão  A few times a week, four of us residents from Barraco #55 in Complexo do Alemão, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, would walk to the top of our hill, Alvorada, and enter Itararé station. The inside of Itararé station is sparse, made of concrete and painted bright yellow. Classical musical can be heard emanating from the speakers above the low-grade din. We wait in line for our turn to climb onto the gondola system. After the Supervia worker invites us into an empty car, we are whisked along the heavy cable and emerge from the other side of the building (Fig 1.1). The complex of favelas opens up underneath. One hundred feet in the air we can see thousands of reddish-orange brick buildings on the eight hills that were within view. People, cars, VW vans, and motobikes fill the alleyways and streets of varying sizes that meander between the buildings. We can see clearly onto the rooftops (“lajes”) of many houses, on which people are cooking, tanning, chatting (Fig 1.2). It feels uncomfortably voyeuristic, floating so high above Complexo residents. But the vantage point, the speed, create a thrilling sensation, too. This is the teleferico, Complexo do Alemão’s largest Growth Acceleration Program (O Programa de Aceleração do Crescimento, or PAC)-funded project.  We ride the gondola system only one stop and get off at Alemão. This station is much like Itararé, but also houses a number of large recreation rooms occupied by Rio municipal and state services, such as a medical clinic and a crèche for children. Our destination is different: we head around the outside of the building and enter a long, bright room with mirrors at one end and blue mats covering the floor. Mestre Juarez, a lean, older man with greying hair, greets us enthusiastically and ushers us into a circle in the middle of the room. Here, we will practice capoeira and, if we are lucky, today we will face one another in a roda (Fig 1.3).1   On our way home after class, we emerge from Itararé teleferico station and happen upon six heavily armed military police officers. They are young, in their 30s, both men and women sporting black uniforms with bullet proof vests. Most conspicuous are the long machine guns 																																																								1 Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian martial art. Its heritage is often traced to the slave plantations in Brazil, where enslaved peoples – generally African or of African descent – would practice fighting moves in a dance-like, clandestine manner. When slavery was officially abolished in Brazil in 1888, the government outlawed practices of capoeira (see Huggins 1984). Today, it is resurging as a martial art. The roda is the manner of playing capoeira. All players stand in a circle, while two enter the person-made ring and face one another. 	 2			they hold at their sides. They chat with each other, ignoring the local residents around them. To my right, towering next to the large teleferico station is another building, similar in structure, whose concrete and glass overshadows the short, brick houses and shops of the favela. Written in large blue letters at the top of the building is UPP Nova Brasília. This is a station of the pacification project, housing the occupying military police force that is attempting to drive out narcotraffic and facilitate formal market activities in favelas deemed high risk in Rio de Janeiro.  These two large buildings, nestled side-by-side on the top of Alvorada, represent two of the largest so-called public security, development, integration, and inclusion programs in Rio at the current socio-historical conjuncture. They epitomize what Mariana Cavalcanti (2009; see also Cavalcanti 2014a, 2014b, 2015) calls the two most significant vectors of social change in Rio’s favelas: the politics of concrete (upgrading) and the politics of cocaine (narcotrafficking). The politics of concrete refers to the construction of large-scale infrastructural projects in Brazilian favelas, a process also called favela urbanization, favela consolidation, or slum upgrading. The most concerted and comprehensive project of upgrading is the Urbanização de Assentamentos Precários  (Urbanization of Precarious Settlements) arm of the Growth Acceleration Program (PAC) of Brazil’s federal PT (Partido dos Trabalhadores, or Workers’ Party) government, which has invested the most money to-date in infrastructure for Rio’s favelas. The teleferico has been the largest and most visible PAC project in the country’s precarious settlements. However, it has recently proven to be the largest white elephant of PAC: as of early 2017, the teleferico is not currently operating due, reportedly, to the state’s non-payment to the Consortium that runs the system because of lack of adequate financial returns. The teleferico’s management companies (first Supervia, then the Consortium of Rio Telefericos) and its owner (SETRANS, the Secretary of State for Transport for Rio de Janeiro) have not been able to profit from the subsidized costs of Complexo residents’ tickets, and residents and tourists have not been using the teleferico at the rates anticipated. The infrastructural project has also been in the news for another insidious reason: Brazil’s contentious Lava Jato investigation and parallel inquiries have accused Odebrecht, the large Brazilian construction company that won the so-called public 	 3			and open bid to build the teleferico, of bribing the state’s PMDB (the Brazilian Democratic Movement Party) government.  The politics of cocaine refers to the circuits of narcotraffic that are embedded in some favela communities. The politics of cocaine has resulted in what is officially called the Police Pacifying Unit Program (also called A Unidade de Polícia Pacificadora, UPP, or pacification), the Rio state government’s program to permanently occupy favelas that have a large presence of narcotraffic activity. The goal of the program is to drive out narcotraffickers and retake territory in three stages: invasion, occupation, and training/social development (UPP’s Concept 2012; Prouse 2012). The military police, the force that operates the UPP project, has been in Complexo since 2010. But they, too, like the teleferico have recently been making headlines for all the wrong reasons: since Brazil hosted the FIFA World Cup in 2014, shootouts between narcotraffickers and police have increased substantially in Complexo, such that not a day goes by without gunfire, and people on all sides of the violent encounters are being killed.  The UPP and teleferico stations are the infrastructural manifestations of these disparate but sometimes overlapping new state projects (Fig 1.4 & Fig 1.5). They also materialize the contradictions between said projects. The attempt by the UPP to secure the community for infrastructural development has brought violence that makes the infrastructure sometimes impossible to use. Indeed, the close proximity of the teleferico and pacification stations throughout Complexo meant that, while the teleferico was operational, if there was tension or active shootouts, it was nearly impossible to ride the gondola system safely and service was often halted for this reason.  This dissertation interrogates the articulation of PAC and pacification projects, and the effects that these projects have had on the lives of people in Complexo. In this introductory chapter I outline how I arrived at this project, and then discuss my main research questions and arguments. Next, I briefly examine the term favela and argue that, although being a fraught concept, retains usefulness for its centrality in policy discourse and popular socio-spatial imaginaries. I conclude the chapter by presenting an outline of the dissertation. 	 4			  1.1 Research Journey  I begin this dissertation with capoeira not only because it was my major and regular interaction with the teleferico, but also because it helps me to think about my positionality as a researcher in Complexo. While I could not always understand what Mestre said – particularly at the beginning of my trip – I could understand, to a certain extent, the bodily movements.2 It was here, moving on the mats, that I first started to feel at ease in Complexo – it was a space where I first felt that I could understand what was happening. But my ability to play also put me ill at ease. My race, gender, and foreignness, alongside my quasi-adeptness at the game, made me a favourite of Mestre, as the gringa capoeirista. I garnered too much attention from him, often to the frustration of my friends and other capoeira players. My ongoing experiences of capoeira forced me to constantly confront this positionality: as someone who was an “outsider” with privileges because of this status, and also as someone who did not always understand what was being said (explicitly or implicitly). But it also allowed me to see how forms of communication other than the spoken word are important for earning trust and knowledge, and indeed my commitment to playing and the friends I made through the game were important in sustaining my work – both in contributing to my research, but also in providing a support network in times of stress and isolation.  It would be irresponsible of me to write away the differences of privilege, race, and positionality that divide me from those I engaged with most closely for this dissertation. However, this project was envisioned as a way to more responsibly engage with urbanization processes happening in the Global South, despite my successes and failures at so doing. Initially entering the PhD program at UBC I had planned on conducting a research project on FIFA – the Federation Internationale de Football Association, and its prestigious tournament – the FIFA World Cup of Soccer – to be hosted by Brazil in 2014. I quickly become 																																																								2 That is not to stay, of course, that my embodiment of the movements was akin to slaves who practiced capoeira – often for their own protection – on plantations in Brazil. Rather, I simply mean to suggest that I could mimic these movements and use my body in similar ways. 	 5			frustrated with the mega event literature’s propensity to fetishize or ignore the multiscalar and co-constitutive ways that mega events manifest on the ground. Specifically with respect to the World Cup in Brazil, there was a tendency for this literature to study only FIFA, the immediate event itself, and its impact, and to not engage the complexities of Brazil’s own political economies, histories of racialization, and gender relations, amongst other forms of power. At the same time, new to geography, I was increasingly compelled by current debates in urban studies about the need to decolonize the discipline, to provincialize urban theory.  Interested in establishing meaningful relationships with Brazilians affected by mega-event developments, as well as understanding Rio de Janeiro’s own urbanization processes that were articulated to a mega event agenda, I turned my focus to Brazil’s upgrading and integration programs.   After this initial shift in focus, my purpose (written into my research proposal) was to understand how PAC decisions are made and how the teleferico, specifically, came into being. However, living amongst Complexo residents, I became more sensitive to their own concerns. Even while the teleferico was operational they often referred to it as a white elephant – a large flashy project of President Lula’s that has had less-than-hoped for impacts on favela mobility. The people with whom I lived were as, if not more, interested in discussing pacification – their daily lives are shaped not only by infrastructural upgrades, but also by the presence of the military police and the conflicts with drug traffickers that the security force incites. Residents often spoke of these programs in the same breath, as both represent new forms of state intervention in a territory that has, historically, appeared (at least superficially) abandoned by all levels of government.   My research is also shaped by personal connections that placed me in a fortuitous relationship with a research, culture, and arts organization in Complexo do Alemão. Barraco #55, known by locals as Barraco, or simply B55, is located near the top of Alvorada, in close proximity to both the aforementioned Itararé teleferico station and the UPP Nova Brasília headquarters (Fig 1.6). One of the founders of Barraco – Eddu Grau – was born and raised in Complexo. He is a respected musician and community organizer. His wife, Ellen Sluis from 	 6			Holland, is the other founder of Barraco.3 Barraco #55 has set itself up to be a gathering place for researchers from around the world to come and contribute to programs and initiatives being developed by the Complexo community.4 Living in B55 placed me at the center of Complexo activist events. Ellen and Eddu are prominent members of the activist community and often host meetings in their kitchen. Their door is also always open to community youth, who would come into the house for a glass of water, to work on a song with Eddu, or simply to chat. I got to know quite a few residents and activists through living in B55. Moreover, I partook in a number of different projects that resident artists and researchers were organizing. For instance, I helped set up an exhibit about kite-flying, a favourite pastime of youth in Complexo. I also swept floors and prepared food for community parties. Staying with Barraco #55 allowed me to be participant observer in these programs and spaces and allowed me to develop invaluable relationships that hopefully will last well beyond this specific dissertation project. It also allowed me to work closely with Andre Valle, who became a valuable interlocutor in Complexo (Fig 1.7). I discuss this methodology at greater length in the following chapter. First, however, I turn to the major arguments that these methods have helped me formulate.  1.2 The Argument  This dissertation is guided by a number of interrelated concerns. How have these twin state projects – infrastructural upgrading and pacification – come into being, how are they connected, and how have they re-ordered life in Complexo do Alemão? I follow Mariana Cavalcanti in thinking of infrastructural upgrading as “embedded in very specific regimes of power that have not been as of yet fully assessed in social science research and are glossed over by generalizing ‘slum’-type arguments” (2009:1020-1021). I focus specifically on the 																																																								3 Their organization does not identify as an NGO because NGOs in this community are often thought of as outsiders that do not respond to the needs of Complexo residents; they tend to be associated with “external” agendas.  4 Projects such as these have proliferated since pacification and urbanization programs began in CPX. I was part of a first wave of scholars and researchers to enter the community post-pacification (occupation), and certainly benefited from lack of research fatigue and the interest many (though certainly not all) residents had in talking with me. This situation is quickly changing, I gather, as more and more dissertations and theses are being published on the pacification process. 	 7			regimes of power that have produced the teleferico – particularly as these regimes operate through Brazilian political elites who have often relied on favelas as spaces of “informality” for political capital. But I also look at the connections between the two projects of upgrading and pacification, discussing their points of articulation. In focusing on these articulations I draw on the provocation of Brazilian urbanist Vera da Silva Telles, who compels me to “unravel the links between production and expansion of markets, the forms of control and power dispositifs, and the situation of renewed conflict that spreads to all spaces” (2015:22). These programs are not simply top-down impositions of power. Telles urges me to look at the “government interface,” or the myriad agents and contested relationships between political and civil society that characterize these programs. Indeed, the actions of civil society are crucial for understanding processes of urbanization in Brazil’s peripheries. The targeted communities of contemporary large-scale infrastructural projects – such as Complexo do Alemão – have historically been autoconstructed by residents themselves, who over a period of decades have built their own houses and communities in relationships with one another, fomenting a critical consciousness, or insurgent citizenship, that seeks rights and resources from the state (Caldeira 2017; Holston 2009).   In this dissertation project, instead of drawing primarily on theory produced about Global North cities, I have followed a postcolonial/global urbanism agenda by focusing on urbanization projects in spaces often relegated to the margins of urban theorizing – in this case, Rio de Janeiro. But I have tried to not only displace my theorizations to particular urban centres such as Rio; I have also tried to engage responsibly and reciprocally with people who tend to be marginalized by hegemonic theory production of the urban, such as Brazilian urbanists and residents and activists of favelas such as Complexo do Alemão. As such, I follow modernity/coloniality theorists, informed by historical experiences in what is now called Latin America, to shift the locus of enunciation of theory production.5 Following this 																																																								5 Scholars from across the world engage with the modernity/coloniality approach. However, much of this framework has been informed by the specific experiences of colonization in the so-called New World and, more specifically, South America and Latin America. Much of their argument is oriented towards decolonization – or undoing the harmful and ongoing effects of coloniality. As such, throughout this dissertation I variously refer to this framework as “modernity/coloniality,” “decolonial” and “of Latin America,” but realize these terms are contentious and worthy of geographical critiques. 	 8			methodology, I try to understand how knowledges continue to be marginalized both by large infrastructural projects and within the very theory produced about these projects.   The objective of this dissertation research project is thus two-fold: the first is political, as my research contributes to understanding ongoing forms of uneven power relationships that marginalize particular bodies, spaces, and knowledges through practices of urbanization. Hopefully some of my insights may be of use to social justice movements in Brazil. The second purpose is theoretical, as I attempt to bring into conversation debates in Brazilian urban studies, Latin American decolonial philosophy, and hegemonic English-language urban and critical development studies, and think about how to theorize Rio de Janeiro as an “ordinary city” (Robinson 2006) whose politics and programs are rooted in historically contested processes.  My broad research questions, then, are as follows: 1.    What are the effects of locating theory in and of the so-called South to explain urbanization processes? How might debates in and of Brazil (with respect to favelas) and Latin America (with respect to coloniality), alongside contentions of locally-based activists, inform a conceptual apparatus and mode of understanding urban politics in ordinary cities? How does shifting the locus of enunciation of theory production allow us to understand the contestations over power, meaning, and ways of being in these spaces that are increasingly the target of market formalization and public security projects?  Drawing from this conceptual and methodological orientation, I ask specifically: 2. How are PAC projects, such as the teleferico, created through historically embedded and contested regimes of power in Brazil? How might we understand so-called favelas (and other precarious settlement-like places) not as a spaces of exteriority and exoticism, but instead as integral to, relational with, and co-constitutive of, the more “formal” city and its regimes of power? What can the articulations of these regimes of power tell us about the tensions and contradictions of current market formalization and security projects?  	 9			3. How do PAC and pacification articulate? In other words, what are their points of resonance – their shared purposes and effects? What are the histories of accumulation, marketization, and violence that undergird both of these programs? How do these projects, together, shape the actions of people in their everyday lives? 4. And how are the citizens targeted by “inclusive” infrastructural and public security projects making new claims on political society and the state? How are they mobilizing their own means of formalization, inclusion, and autoconstruction as a function of these government-led projects?   My argument is both methodological and conceptual. I argue that a postcolonial or global urban agenda requires theorizing in historically and geographically-situated ways. It requires shifting the locus of enunciation of theory production to include theorizations from: linguistic margins such as Brazilian Portuguese geography; the people who grapple with these projects in their everyday lives; and activists who are naming and contesting various forms of state-led violence. Such people hold an epistemic privilege for the myriad forms of power that intersect and shape their lives, and thus inhabit a crucial situated perspective from which to understand the ways these projects come into being and their differential effects. Relatedly, urbanization programs – here formalization and public security programs – are never simply top-down, state-led impositions but rather take shape through contested processes operating at different scales. As such, I argue that a conjunctural conceptual framework – inspired by Gramscian scholars, Brazilian urbanists, and modernity/coloniality philosophers of Latin America – is crucial for understanding present-day patterns of urbanization.   Following this framework, I make two interrelated arguments with respect to market formalization and public security in Rio’s favelas wrought through PAC and pacification. First, I argue that these projects are articulated in a nexus that I call PACification.6 PACification represents the conjoining of conjuncturally-specific activities related to 																																																								6 Mariana Cavalcanti (2014b) briefly introduces the term PACification in her chapter in Graham & McFarlane’s Infrastructural Lives (it is, admittedly, an obvious portmanteau that I began developing before reading her chapter). She uses it to refer to how PAC and UPP have both been used as a form of social control and business investment in Rio’s quest to become an Olympic city. While some of our contemporary focus is similar, I use the concept in a more deeply historical way, pointing to continuities and cleavages with forms of power and social difference throughout Brazil’s history. I also emphasize the militarized and racialized nature of this project of market formalization and extension (see Chapter 4.4). 	 10			marketization promoted by both PAC and pacification. These include income and employment generation, infrastructural development, attraction of international investment, regularization of property rights, and advancement of microcredit. Such activities are shaped by a historically-determined public security apparatus that attempts to violently manage socio-political processes of the past, specifically the proliferation of the narcotrade, the inherited tactics of military police violence, and racialized-classed intersections that shape hyperexploitation and killability. In other words, both PAC and pacification are simultaneously oriented towards market formalization, consumption, and public security in Rio’s favelas, and are indelibly shaped by past struggles. The term PACification captures these intertwined impulses. Understood this way, PACification is the latest iteration of a historical project that unites market-making with security through military police action in Brazilian territory. I argue that, taking this longer historical view, PACification is a conjuncturally-specific territorialization, in Rio’s favelas, of the coloniality of power: a nexus that is shaped by ongoing forms of coloniality that articulates market formalization and extension, the construction of racialized threats, and a militarized approach to public security. To see PAC and pacification as interrelated also points to how these projects rely upon, but also contradict, one another, thus shaping their ongoing failures in places such as Complexo do Alemão.  Second, I argue that residents’ and activists’ modes of building their own houses and communities – of autoconstruction – are central to the contemporary manifestation of PACification. Autoconstruction in PACified places such as Complexo do Alemão is being transformed as these communities become targets of large-scale urbanization projects, being brought into new visceral relationships with multiple state forces. While previous forms of autoconstruction created insurgent citizens who fought the government for rights, at the present moment these insurgent citizens are trying to hold the government apparatus accountable for its actions and to the constitutionally-enshrined rights that previous movements achieved. They do so in the wake of ongoing contradictions, failures, and violences of PACification. These insurgent citizens are not simply building communities out of bricks and mortar, but also through discourse, images, texts, and digital practices. The productive power of discourse – of enunciations – is crucial to how their critiques and 	 11			insurgence operate. They are intervening in popular discourses of PACification to critique resource usurpation and lack of consultation; and they are re-shaping the knowledge-power apparatus of the military police by proliferating images of police killings. These new forms of autoconstruction involve negotiations over both digital and physical space, as residents and activists appropriate and re-shape government-led efforts of surveillance and formalization. Here, autoconstruction is not a practice exterior to power, but is often a reaction to, or operates in relation with, myriad state actors. Ultimately, though, the auto remains an important signifier in these PACification struggles, as the construction of community and insurgent citizenships continues to be a negotiated, community-led effort to live with and protect one another under conditions of violence.  1.3 Brief Note on Favelas  Before presenting an outline of this dissertation, it is important that I briefly address a tension that underpins my work. I use the term “favela” throughout the dissertation, yet a favela is a fraught concept. Favela is generally translated into English as “slum” or “shantytown,” and may be used as a metonym for backwardness (Rao 2006; Roy 2011). The term favela also has negative connotations in Brazilian Portuguese: it tends to codify low-income spaces as informal, violent, and poor; and it has been used as a label that homogenizes “peripheral”7 regions of Brazilian cities. In reality, however, poverty cannot be mapped specifically onto favela space. Many favelas have low- and middle-income residents, and many other impoverished communities are not considered favelas (Cavalcanti 2009).   There are a number of different characteristics that Brazilian scholars utilize to define and problematize favelas. What unites many communities popularly deemed “favelas” is their 																																																								7 The term “periphery” gained widespread usage in the 1960s to replace previous terms for marginal spaces (namely “suburb” and “rural”). Explains James Holston: “In this changing vocabulary, the notion of periphery does not refer to an excluded outer space of capitalism in which the underclasses supposedly exist. Rather, it refers to relations of mutual dependence – to social productions of space – in which component parts define each other through apparatuses of domination and response. Each comprises political, legal, social, and infrastructural elements whose interrelations change and whose discursive use sometimes homogenizes. Consequently, as both places and concepts, the key terms ‘periphery,’ ‘city,’ and ‘urban’ shift in location and significance through time and juro-political contexts, which, in any case, are almost always lost in translation.” (2009:147) 	 12			autoconstructed nature – homes built by family and community over generations (Caldeira 2017; Holston, 2009); the presence of various “illicit” electricity, cable, and internet connections (Holston 2009; Alves & Evanson 2011); and the fact that many residents have de facto but not legal title to land (Cavalancti 2009). Most residents of so-called favelas buy or rent their houses within the informal market (McCann 2014). Bryan McCann believes that “absence of property title…has remained the single most consistent characteristic of favelas for more than a century” (2014:25), although this situation is quickly changing with large-scale land regularization programs. Many scholars, too, focus on a particular form of stigma as defining the difference between morro (hill, favela, informal city) and asfalto (asphalt, neighborhood, formal city). Janice Perlman explains, “Perhaps the single persistent distinction between favelas and the rest of the city is the deeply rooted stigma that adheres to them and to those who reside in them” (2011:30).   Defining favelas as “risky” territory has been central to evolving forms of state intervention in these territories. Historically this risk has been framed in terms of poverty and disease (Fischer 2014, 2008), but more recently has been associated with narcotrafficking and violence: “This stigma of favela residents as the carriers of violence seemed to replace an older one based on class prejudice” (McCann 2014:11). The result has been increasingly large scale infrastructural and public security interventions intended to ameliorate the favela’s risk and to facilitate market formalization. Theorists of Brazil thus often refer to favelas as “frontiers” of global capital (see Telles 2015; Martins 1997), pointing to the historic absence of formal markets in these spaces and the increasing focus of the state on introducing market mechanisms.  Most of these definitions, or defining features, of favelas emphasize lack. What is also indisputable to people who call themselves favelados,8 however, is that the favela entails a range of knowledges and experiences from which communities derive strength and cohesion, though these latter aspects are underrepresented in political, popular, and scholarly discourses. I thus use the term “favelas” throughout the dissertation, as most of my 																																																								8 The term “favelado” has historically been used with derision to connote people living in favelas as backwards and lazy. However, many favela residents have recently re-appropriated the term to refer to one another with a sense of pride and community (Leeds 1996). 	 13			interviewees and interlocutors used this term. The notion of “favela” is also central to the policy agendas of municipal, state, and federal governments, which depend on the popular socio-spatial imaginary of favelas as “risky” territories, but also potential market opportunities. In using the term favela, then, I do not want to reproduce this stigma, rather draw attention to its performative effects. I also want to take seriously the ways that people living in Complexo do Alemão talk about themselves.  1.4 Dissertation Outline  The dissertation is structured in two parts. The first part lays out my foundational and conceptual approach of a conjunctural analysis, while the second part operationalizes this approach with respect to more empirically-focused material. In the next chapter, which begins part one, I present my conceptual framework and methodology. Here I discuss the interrelated problem spaces of urban studies that guide my methodological considerations. These include: postcolonial provocations to theorize from ordinary cities; Brazilian urban theorizations of the relationality of favelas and contested state/civil society interface; and Latin American decolonial philosophy that stresses the centrality of ongoing histories of colonialism. I then elaborate a conceptual framework that guides my method and analysis. Drawing on the aforementioned scholars, and placing them in conversation with the work of Gramscian-inspired geographers as well as activists and organizers in Complexo, I explain my conjunctural analytic. This framework centres four different characteristics of urbanization projects: they are historically determined, shaped by histories of colonization and relations of power that continue to exert influence over contemporary programs; they are shaped by flows of ideas, capital, and discourses operating at multiple interrelated scales; they are constructed through processes of articulation in the word’s dual sense (they manifest through the conjoining of modes of production and regimes of power, and are constituted through the productive power of enunciations and discourse); and they represent ongoing contestations of the relationality between state, economy, and civil society. I then discuss the methods used throughout the dissertation.  	 14			In Chapter 3 I present a granular genealogy of public security and urbanization projects in Rio de Janeiro, specifically. Through so doing, I demonstrate how favelas must be understood as the product of specific conjunctural forces I outlined in Chapter 2 (that is, they are historically determined, are shaped by interscalar flows, are the products of articulated power regimes and socio-spatial imaginaries, and are territorializations of negotiations between state and civil society). Here I highlight the ongoing relationships between these so-called “informal” areas and the formal city. Indeed, favelas have never been abandoned, despite popular and policy rhetoric. Rather, they have always been objects of intervention for different levels of government and elite actors, and present-day manifestations of public security and market formalization in these areas are informed by, and transform, these historical regimes of power. I conclude this chapter by presenting a history of the specific community of favelas within which I worked: Complexo do Alemão.  In Chapter 4 I make a deep historical analysis of the PACification complex also drawing on the conjunctural approach developed in Chapter 2. Inspired by modernity/coloniality theorists, I take seriously how different regimes of accumulation, marketization, and bodily difference – namely racialized difference – have been historically articulated and transformed through the contemporary functioning of PACification, in which young black men are able to be killed with impunity for economic ends. I also trace resonances between PACification of the present moment and pacification of the military dictatorship, discussing the continuities and fissures between each project’s articulation of economic development and public security. I ultimately present PACification as an ongoing and specific territorialization of the coloniality of power. Here, racialization processes and accumulation regimes are intertwined and transformed in the contemporary moment of urbanization and market formalization, which depends on racialized threats and militarized policing that often operates through a grammar of war. The history and conceptual analysis I develop in this chapter informs the subsequent arguments I make throughout the dissertation.  The next three chapters – five through seven – shift conceptually as a product of the progression of my research. Chapter 5 is focused predominantly on PAC upgrading, given that this was my initial research design. In Chapter 6 I discuss the articulations of PAC and 	 15			pacification: the market formalization and public security logics that shape both and define their nexus. Chapter 7 is focused predominantly on pacification, and how community leaders, journalists, and activists are mobilizing in the wake of police violence.    Chapter 5 centres on the largest PAC infrastructural project – the teleferico – and interrogates how Complexo residents narrativize its existence. I focus on two sets of narratives: decision-making and money appropriation. In this chapter I am particularly interested in how discourses serve as enunciations that are inherently political: they mount a critique of state power and resource usurpation. Yet they also demonstrate the contested nature of the state/civil society interface. I thus attend to the political entities around which these narratives condense: how the ongoing and transforming articulations between different governance regimes and actors shape PAC territorializations.   In Chapter 6 I shift focus to the relationship between PAC’s and pacification’s market formalization strategies. Drawing on state policy and interviews with government officials, I document the shared purpose of these projects: to extend the formal market to Complexo do Alemão, and to securitize the rest of Rio to attract international investment. I thus draw on critical geographers’ theorizations of formality/informality as a state practice that, among other projects, attempts to extend a market frontier. I also, however, pay particular attention to how these projects exceed strict economic ends – they are also shaped by a project of coloniality that has, at its core, an attempt to civilize, modernize, and formalize the behavior of morro residents. I end the chapter by discussing how residents themselves often practice modes of formalization – or negotiating with one another on how to better use a space – in the wake of continued state informality. I call this process subversive formalization.  The final empirical chapter focuses on pacification and how community members – specifically activists and journalists – are organizing in the face of state violence. Here I document social media collectives of both journalists and activists that are attempting to protect the safe passage of their neighbours through city streets, and that are using viral video and image to hold police accountable for slayings. I think of these processes as forms of 	 16			digital autoconstruction, in which community members leverage and engage digital practices to intervene in material, discursive, and epistemological regimes of state power.  I end the dissertation by reflecting on the conjunctural analytical I developed in Chapter 2. In so doing, I draw together threads of the dissertation that demonstrate, or were analyzed through, processes of historical determination, relationality, interscalar flows, and dual modes of articulation. I explain how each relates to my overall argument regarding PACification. Finally, I reflect on how I have variously fulfilled the purposes of the dissertation set out here in the introduction, and the importance but difficulties of continuing to undertake global and postcolonial urban scholarship.     	 17			1.5 Figures for Chapter 1                                            Figure 1.2 View of Complexo do Alemão from B55’s laje. Photo taken 13 Jan 2014 by author. Figure 1.3 Me in capoeira practice. Photo taken 22 April 2014 by Andre Valle Figure 1.1 The teleferico of Complexo do Alemão. Photo taken 16 Jan 2014 by author. 	 18			                                              Figure 1.4 Itararé teleferico station. Photo taken 13 Jan 2014 by author. 	 19			          Figure 1.6 Barraco #55. Photo taken 2 May 2014 by author. Figure 1.7 My research assistant, Andre Valle, in a teleferico cable car. Photo taken 30 March 2015 by author. Figure 1.5 The UPP at Palmeiras teleferico station. Photo taken 25 Jan 2014 by author. 	 20			Part 1: Foundations  Part one of this dissertation establishes my conceptual and methodological foundations. Responding to postcolonial calls to “provincialize” and “situate” urban theory, in the next three chapters I elaborate a situated conjunctural methodology – drawing together insights from Gramscian geographers, Latin American decolonial philosophers, and Brazilian urbanists. In Chapter 2, specifically, I develop this conceptual framework and forefront four key tenets of my approach: historical determination; relationality of civil and political society, and of favelas; interscalar spatio-temporal flows; and articulation in its dual sense. Chapter 3 and 4 put this framework to work as I historically chart the present day PAC and pacification projects. Most of the material in these chapters is from secondary sources, although I do draw on some contemporary policy documents and interviews.   The purpose of these chapters is to draw on already-existing literature to theorize the historically-determined nature of favelas and the PACification project. Thus, in Chapter 3 I present a granular policy history of urbanization and public security projects, paying particular attention to how they take shape through negotiated civil society/political interfaces, and thus how favelas represent a particular (and ever transforming) territorialization of these relations. I focus also on the interscalar flows of financialized capital and policy, and the historical forces that have shaped present day relations between government officials and construction conglomerates in Brazil.   Yet the development of PAC and pacification projects is also informed by deep and historically entrenched axes of social difference. Thus in Chapter 4 I use notions of articulation and coloniality to understand how PACification – as a marketization and public security nexus – has taken shape through colonial, capital, and racialized histories. These histories take a conjuncturally-specific form at this contemporary moment. This chapter is largely conceptual and theoretical. In it, I also establish key foundations of my argument that carry into subsequent chapters: favelas as racialized and classed spaces; and PACification as an articulated nexus advancing a formalized market frontier.     	 21			Chapter 2: Situating a Conjunctural Urbanism  During my first major research trip to Complexo do Alemão, I was invited to an anti-World Cup and anti-militarization event co-organized by a number of community groups. The event was called “A Copa Pra Alemão Ver” (The Cup for the German to See – a play on the namesake of the community), implying that it would show Germans, and the rest of the global spectators, what was actually happening in Rio’s favelas during the World Cup. The event was being filmed as part of a documentary by the same name (Fig 2.1). The documentary was created by six youth from Complexo, in collaboration with a Belgian organization and with production by Raízes em Movimento (ReM), a local grassroots organization. The gathering also included members from Complexo-based collectives such as Coletivo Papo Reto (CPR), Ocupa Alemão, and Barraco #55 (B55), among others.   The event itself was held at the bottom of the Alemão hill, close to the neighborhood of Ramos. People were standing outside, gathered around red plastic tables, drinking Antarctica beer and listening to baile funk music. To play baile funk music out loud in favela streets is itself a contentious act, as this style of music is sometimes associated with narcotrafficking due to its frequent references to money and drugs; it has previously been outlawed in many UPP-occupied, or “pacified,” favelas.   People filtered in and out throughout the evening. I helped string up banners, shared beer, and chatted with some members of ReM I had not yet met. During the event, three military police officers of the local UPP unit stood ten feet from the gathering. They did not say a word, just watched us. A rumour quickly circulated: someone had overheard one military police officer say to another that they had to be very careful because so many of the organizers were activists and were filming with both documentary cameras and smartphones. There were no incidents with the military police that night, but we were always aware of their presence just a few feet away.  That night, a number of different street artists spray-painted art on the walls around the small praça (square). These messages took the PT government to task for investing in mega event- 	 22			and tourist-related infrastructure at the expense of community priorities. One such image displayed a soccer ball being kicked into a favela homes (Fig 2.2). Another stated “Cup for whom? We need education, hospitals, housing, respect” (Fig 2.3).9 Yet another depicted a flag comparing PAC money invested in the teleferico (100%) to sanitation infrastructure (35%), and listed the number of occupying policing units (x5) for every clinic, school, and hospital. This last image explicitly juxtaposes common concerns with PAC and pacification – that they are highly visible projects not responsive to community needs.    I begin with this anecdote because it is these activists, organizers, and residents who have inspired me, and shaped my knowledge of, new large-scale state interventions in communities such as Complexo do Alemão. Although none of them have termed it as such, organizers such as these have helped me think through the mutual imbrication of PAC and pacification – the nexus I call PACification. They provide me with my entry point for understanding what is happening in their communities, knowledge that is inevitably shaped by my own positionality and by the theories I carry with me. In other words, my analytic framework, my understanding of the relationship between PAC and pacification, and my interventions into urban studies are shaped by the particular confluence of theories that have informed my thinking, and the myriad contentions I heard while in Complexo. This is not to say that all activists, organizers, and residents saw the projects in the precise way I theorize them here. Rather, I mean to suggest that the way I understand these projects is inevitably shaped by the particular position I had with respect to these activists, and the theories and ways of knowing that followed me to this part of the globe.  In this chapter I discuss how I came to be at the bottom of the morro (hill) that June of 2014. I pay specific attention to how my relationship with organizers, activists, and residents has guided my thinking. I then construct an analytic framework that is inspired by the intersection of activists’ contentions and urban theory from the “South.” I conclude the chapter with a discussion of the specific methods I used throughout this research. 																																																								9 Street art and wall art is a political tactic used by many artists in Complexo. They often will paint messages aimed at the government on the sides of PAC-demolished houses, the ruins of which have been left by the government.   	 23			2.1 “Walking With” Organizers  I took my first research trip to Rio de Janeiro in October of 2013 to determine the feasibility of my research proposal and to make initial contacts with PAC representatives. While there, Emily Baron, a Master’s student at Simon Fraser University, invited me to visit her at her host research and arts institute. She was studying a phenomenon called favela tourism, and was doing so in a group, or complex, of favelas called Complexo do Alemão. The institute that was hosting her was Barraco #55 (Shack #55). Her invitation to me was fortuitous, not least because Complexo is the site of one of the largest PAC-funded projects in Brazil’s precarious settlements: the teleferico. She met me in Bonsucesso, the first cable car station, and we rode the gondola together to the Itararé station atop the Alvorada hill. I followed her as she walked the hilly streets, heading to the institute. It resembles the adjacent houses, with an innocuous door down a narrow alley. Inside was teeming with people – an artist from France, a PhD student from the Netherlands, and 4 youth from the hill, chatting with B55 co-founder Eddu. After eating lunch with the group, Eddu and his partner, Ellen, invited me to stay with them for my own research. Little did I know at the time, this trip to Complexo would fundamentally shift my research. Instead of focusing on the people who have built PAC, it allowed me to understand how many people saw, understood, and remade these projects themselves.   As briefly discussed in Chapter 1, Barraco #55 is a central node of community organizing in Complexo. They position themselves as an arts, culture, and research centre that hosts international visitors – many from other Latin American countries – and is a hub of activity for youth in the community (Fig 2.4-2.7). Eddu Grau is a well-respected musician from Complexo and is very involved in local bands. It is common for youth and other community members to drop by B55 to play music, chat, or simply grab a glass of water. They have, at times, hosted outdoor movie nights in the square across from their house, they have organized myriad rap and dance nights, and they support local street artists.   While B55 does not often identify as an “activist organization,” they are close to and often work alongside different activist collectives in Complexo. They have worked with Raízes em 	 24			Movimento (ReM – see Chapter 5), a long-standing group that advocates to the government for progressive change in the community, among other initiatives; they are friends with members of Coletivo Papo Reto (CPR – see Chapter 7), a new social media collective that is trying to hold the military police accountable for acts of brutality; and they are regularly visited by local journalists and photographers. There is not a homogeneous activist community in Complexo, yet many active organizers will work with one another when their common interests intersect.10 Staying with B55 allowed me to meet, learn, and speak with many of these activists and try to better understand their concerns. Many of the contentions I make throughout the dissertation reach beyond B55’s and other organizers’ actions or arguments – this is not a dissertation reformulating what they say and, indeed, some have not always agreed with aspects of my arguments. Yet they have been central to my engagement with the community and with other organizers, activists, and residents in Complexo.  Crucially, living and working at Barraco #55 put me in touch with Andre Valle. Andre is a local musician and a former tour guide. He has lived in Complexo – specifically on the morro of Alemão – since his family migrated to the community when he was young. Andre taught himself to speak English by watching videos of American movies. Because of these efforts, he works regularly as a translator, interpreter, and assistant for researchers such as myself, in addition to conducting the odd tour for B55. Andre became one of my most important confidantes in Complexo. He helped me organize interviews and accompanied me to meet residents and activists, particularly early on in my journey. Many times we would be walking along the road when we would run into a friend or family member of his, who would share their latest thoughts on PAC and pacification. These encounters, and Andre’s connections, were crucial to how I began to understand the varied impacts of new state intervention in the community.  I arrived in Complexo at a specific moment in both the UPP and PAC projects. After two years of relative stability with the occupying military police (PM), tension and violence 																																																								10 A key issue that sometimes creates tension between different organizations is their commitment to talk about violence. For instance, B55 is very cognizant of the narratives of violence that characterize Complexo, and thus tries to avoid these discussions. Some organizations, on the other hand, are committed quite explicitly to combatting violence and the militarization of their communities. 	 25			between the PMs and local narcofactions were increasing. More shootouts were occurring, and rumours proliferated about narco retaliation. I thus entered the community at a particularly heightened moment of anti-UPP sentiment, which had become more critical of the project in recent months and would continue to build towards the World Cup. PAC infrastructural upgrading, too, had been ongoing for almost six years. When I arrived at B55, most of the construction was over and many in the community were wondering if, and when, builders would come back to clean up the debris left from the previous interventions. Ellen reported rumours to me that EMOP (the state company for construction) was due back in January, but they never materialized. As such, many of the actions and contentions of residents and organizers described in the dissertation have been made during a period of frustration with the government, following a period of relative hope of better conditions in the community.11     Through my residency at B55, I have attempted to “walk with” organizers and residents in Complexo, a decolonial process conceptualized by the Zapatista movement in Mexico and elaborated as methodology by Juanita Sundberg. Sundberg (2014) urges scholars to walk with Indigenous communities or other groups who have been systematically oppressed or exploited. Walking with emphasizes the processual nature of knowledge production, and how engagement with different knowledges actively performs the world(s) in which we live. I have attempted to walk with residents of Complexo do Alemão by living with B55, assisting with community-driven artistic events, and attending protests both inside and outside the community. Walking with has required me to engage with the contentions being made by people in favelas.12 This methodology has often resulted in activists providing me with the 																																																								11	The current political situation in Brazil has also forced me to be very reflexive about the arguments I make in the dissertation. My case is contemporary PACification, and its associated processes of corruption, for instance, in Complexo. I am hypercognizant of the current political climate in the country, in which narratives of the left-leaning PT’s corruption have been appropriated by the middle and upper classes to oust the government in favour of a conservative, right-wing faction. Following the conjunctural methodology outlined above, I have tried to present the PT as a party with left wing ambitions but also one that has been transformed by the state apparatus and practices that the party inherited (see Chapter 3.2). But I am also aware that this dissertation takes a risk in critiquing the projects of the leftist government. Indeed, if these arguments are decontextualized and appropriated, they could inadvertently bolster conservative forces and interpretations. 	12 The social world, following Roy, “requires multiple forms of epistemic authority for its analysis” (Roy 2016:821). In taking seriously the actions and enunciations of Complexo residents, I am drawing implicitly on feminist standpoint theorists. Feminist standpoint theory does not deny an external reality; rather, it recognizes 	 26			impetus for theorization – such as calling the state genocidal – after which I have engaged with relevant literatures in a recursive fashion.   Beyond sweeping floors and setting up exhibits, one of the ways I have tried to practice solidarity has been through witnessing violence. In other words, I have understood my role as a foreign researcher partly to be one of documenting the different violences happening in Complexo. Yet militarized projects such as pacification achieve legitimacy in places like Complexo because these places are discursively constituted as endemically violent. As such, I have also attempted to move beyond theorizing only violence (in other words, not discursively or analytically equating Complexo with violence). This difficulty is compounded by trying to engage responsibly with different knowledges and practices that are not my own and that I cannot fully know. Here, I became a witness and an intervener in academic and popular discourse, trying to create space for other ways of knowing without appropriating these knowledges. These lines between documenting violence and trying to complicate a narrative based solely on violence, and engaging with different knowledges without appropriating them, are difficult to walk, and I am not always successful. But working through these challenges is the constant preoccupation and backdrop to how I think about and write this dissertation.  I approach the space of Complexo and situate myself as a researcher with reference to the relational ontologies elaborated by Walter Mignolo. Mignolo (2013:113) argues that a relational ontology is that in which “the knowing subject and the known object or processes are configured at the crossroads of racial and geohistorical colonial frames” (see also Mullings 2005). In this sense, my knowledge and understanding of events in Complexo do Alemão and favelas in Rio are intimately shaped by my white, Northern, female social 																																																																																																																																																																											the situatedness through which different people have access to a particular understanding of this reality, as a result of their social locations (informed by, inter alia, class, race, gender, and geographic location) (Alcoff 2010; Mohanty 1997, 2002). Feminist philosophers such as Linda Alcoff (2010) have forwarded the notion of epistemic privilege to capture this potentially “privileged” epistemological position that women of the Third World have for understanding intersecting forces of power such as racism, imperialism, colonialism, and patriarchy – they have access to, and experiences of, this articulated system of power in a way that others do not (see also Mohanty 2002; Nagar et al. 2002). That is not to say that everyone in this position will be a critical theorist, or that academically-trained scholars cannot help elucidate these processes. Rather, this philosophical understanding of epistemology can inform the ways we (as scholars in the academy) build responsible and informative research relationships with people who have these privileged epistemological locations. 	 27			positionality.13 The ways in which I feel violence are markedly different than the embodied experiences of young racialized youth, who face constant threats of brutality every day. Methodologically, then, I have not always, indeed rarely, if ever, experienced violence or state interventions the ways that Complexo community members do. Yet I can listen, and be self-reflexive of how my knowledge and social positionality constantly inform my understandings of what people tell me and what I myself experience. I have also repeatedly had to confront my own privileges: with increased tension and violence I have experienced privilege mobility (that is, I have been able to leave the community); and have experienced racial privilege (that is, by being hurt I could put the community at heightened risk). Throughout my research I have had to negotiate these challenges and I have tried to do them some justice throughout this written dissertation.  2.2 Theoretical Provocations Concerning the “Urban”  I arrived at Barraco #55 as a scholar from Canada trained in North Atlantic geography and exposed to a particular set of debates. With a background in feminist and critical development studies, I was particularly interested in and intrigued by the recent calls in English-language urban studies to “provincialize” theory. Such critiques have deeply informed the way I have come to understand Complexo and other favelas in Brazil.   																																																								13	Using this methodology, and being attuned to postcolonial, decolonial, and critical Brazilian urbanisms, it has been important for me to constantly reflect on language. My research has been shaped quite substantially by my proficiency (or limits) in Portuguese. Although my basic skills improved while I was in Brazil, I always remained a linguistic outsider, in addition to my other outsider signifiers. While this can be an obvious disadvantage, it also proved advantageous in some circumstances, particularly as it forced me to rely upon and work with Brazilian scholars and Cariocas who speak both Portuguese and English, at minimum for my daily linguistic survival in Brazil before I learned enough working Portuguese. Indeed, collaborations across linguistic divides are particularly important in geography, which tends to be dominated by English from the North. Thus, through this dissertation work and beyond, I have tried to make a commitment to Brazilian scholars, creating space for Portuguese ideas in English geography (see, for instance, Melgaço & Prouse 2017). It is also worth mentioning the added time and commitment this undertaking requires: it has taken me substantial emotional and physical energy to learn enough Portuguese to do justice to this project, and every little task – from transcribing to reading – is much more time consuming in Portuguese (for instance, it takes me three times as long to read an article in Portuguese versus English). Of course, I recognize that the decision to undertake this work was mine alone and ultimately shaped by my privilege in choosing to do research “elsewhere.” 		 28			Rio de Janeiro, the city of my research, is located in what hegemonic urban studies often calls the “Global South.” It is an ordinary city – an urban experience with which Northern theory has not often engaged (see Robinson 2006, 2010; Parnell & Oldfield 2014). Yet there are many Brazilian urbanists, and indeed a quite robust Brazilian geographic tradition. In this dissertation I attempt to operate across linguistic and geographic theoretical divides (see Melgaço & Prouse 2017). In so doing, I situate this work in a postcolonial or global urbanism that is attentive to the situatedness of both urbanization processes and knowledge production about urbanization. However, because the postcolonial critique has largely been developed in regions and institutions that privilege the experiences (and theories derived from) recently decolonized nations, I also pay particular attention to a decolonial way of theorizing, inspired by scholars of Latin and South America, who privilege the ongoing histories of colonization and imperialism in the “New World.”  Complexo do Alemão, the community in which I lived and whose experience of urbanization forms the basis of this dissertation, is comprised of what are often called favelas. Favelas, sometimes translated into English as “shanty-towns” or “slums,” have been debated in Anglo geography and Portuguese Brazilian geography. Critical Brazilian theorists and Brazilianists, in particular, have sought to disrupt notions and theorizations of favelas as “marginal” to the city and marginal to urbanization processes (Perlman 1976, 2011; Fischer 2008; McCann 2014a; Cavalcanti 2014a). There is also much debate over the use of the term favela – is it analytically productive, or does it reify slum-type arguments (Rao 2006; Roy 2011) that designate these areas as backward, marginal, and uncivilized?  In this section I present three key problem spaces of critical urban theory that have guided me in this dissertation – namely, the call to theorize from ordinary cities, the call to take seriously histories of colonization and racialization, and the call to disrupt notions of favelas as marginal. I then propose an analytic that responds to these problem spaces, and to the myriad contentions of activists and residents themselves. I highlight four key components of this analytic framework, including the notions of historical determination, relationality, interscalar analysis, and articulation.   	 29			2.2.1 Postcolonial Provocations  Postcolonial critique has motivated what Ananya Roy (2015) calls “new geographies of theory” informed by experiences of urbanization not captured in models emanating from the so-called West (see also Robinson 2012, 2016; McFarlane 2010; Sheppard et al 2015; Parnell & Oldfield 2014). Scholars such as Roy have called for a theorization from the “South” where, following postcolonial theory, the South is a “relation, not a thing in and of itself” (Comaroff & Comaroff, 2012:47; in Roy 2015:8). Postcolonial urbanism is an approach, rather than a theory, as it is self-consciously trying to move beyond theorizing universals (an agenda that is consistent with decolonial approaches: see Sundberg 2003, 2005; Mignolo 2000; Grosfoguel 2007). Rather than seeking to create or refute a universal theory, in this dissertation I attempt to both situate and extend theory by drawing together different knowledges and theorizations in order to explain this particular socio-historical conjuncture in Brazil.   Postcolonial urbanism has been a reaction to a particular, yet hegemonic, form of political economic theorization of the urban and urbanization processes. It has made two interrelated critiques of this dominant approach that are relevant to me here. The first critique is that urban studies has historically been economistic, reading off abstract level concepts of capitalism, globalization and neoliberalism, for instance, that are then used to explain diverse experiences the world over. A potential problem with this methodology is that it assumes all difference is solely the result of these abstracted systems (Hall 1996). Relatedly, a second major critique leveled by postcolonial urbanists is that the features and models that have been used to define the urban – such as the global cities model (see Sassen 2001) or mechanisms of agglomeration (see Scott & Storper 2015) – are derived from particular Western cities’ experiences. There are a number of significant implications of these ways of theorizing. For one, explanations of different urbanizations are made in the image of the West, with different cities spatio-temporally marked on a developmentalist chain as “behind” hegemonic cities and nation-states (Robinson 2006). For another, geographical differences tend to be understood as simply empirical variations of these supposedly universal systems that have developed in some Western/Northern cities (Roy 2015). 	 30			 Academics with a postcolonial sensibility have recently called for a “provincialization” of urban theory, and are developing theoretical concepts from regions that have been marginalized by contemporary theory production (Robinson 2006, 2010; Leitner, Sheppard & Sziarto 2008; Parnell & Oldfield 2014; Peck 2015; Leitner & Sheppard 2015). Similarly, recent scholarship in critical urban studies has sought to theorize urbanization processes “from the South,” though of course many scholars have been doing this for decades (see Santos 1979; Caldeira 2000; Vainer 2014; Melgaço & Prouse 2017). Two key tenets of post-colonial urbanism, according to Jennifer Robinson, include: taking all cities as “ordinary” cities and thus any can serve as the starting point for theory generation; and creating new theory through comparing across any presumed North/South, developed/developing divides (or cities that would not ordinarily be thought comparable) while being attuned to the socio-spatial processes of power wrought through (neo)colonialisms and imperialisms (Sheppard et al 2013). Helga Leitner and Eric Sheppard (2015) elaborate four moves towards provincializing urban theory: engaging a multiplicity of actors, from academics to activists to community members, in order to increase the range of epistemological engagements; taking seriously the agency of the material world in a non-fetishistic fashion; situating knowledge and taking seriously the theorizations of and from places generally used as sites of empirical data extraction; and being constantly reflexive of one’s ethico-political commitments. The call to provincialize theory is thus one to re-orient knowledge politics and practices in urban studies.  To work through a postcolonial methodology does not, however, mean to approach a research problem or space with no prior analytic categories or questions. Indeed, to assume that one can approach research without being informed by his/her experiential history and social positionality is to assume a Eurocentric, God’s-eye view of the world (see Mullings 2005; Sundberg 2003). What a postcolonial approach does call for is an attentiveness to the situatedness of theory: who is producing theory, for what purposes, and to explain what experiences. We must, according to these scholars, theorize from the experiences of particular urbanizations, and engage with knowledges already produced about these particular experiences. I thus now turn to two main, situated schools of thought that I engage 	 31			with to understand urbanization processes in Rio de Janeiro: decolonial or modernity/coloniality theory, elaborated in and through the colonization experiences of Latin America; and theory produced in and of urbanization processes in Brazil’s so-called favelas or precarious settlements. I discuss each briefly in turn, and then elaborate them more fully throughout the dissertation.  2.2.2 Decolonial Provocations  My work is explicitly animated by political concerns of decolonization. Decolonial Latin American scholars who have developed the modernity/coloniality framework, such as Walter Mignolo, Sylvia Wynter, Anibal Quijano, Linda Alcoff, Boaventura de Sousa Santos and Ramón Grosfoguel, interrogate power relations that were consolidated during the first modernity of colonization and continue to this day. They argue that contemporary dynamics of race and labour, amongst other axes of difference, were shaped by the first experiences of colonization in the so-called New World. Quijano (2008) and Wynter (2003) argue, for instance, that race was consolidated in the 16th and 17th centuries during Iberian colonization (that is, Spanish and Portuguese colonization of South America), and that categories of race were used, in part, to divide labor within this colonial system (Quijano 2008; see also McIntyre & Nast 2011; Werner 2011). Contemporary racial formations, in which biological bodies are typologized according to value/worth (Omi & Winant 2014), are the product of colonial encounters of the 1500s (Grosfoguel 2007; Mignolo 2000; Quijano 2008) in which the question of the “human” was first posed through the figure of the indio (Maldonado-Torres 2007). This abstracted notion of race continues to shape contemporary experiences, even though the actual form race takes is a concretely contested, and geographically specific, one (see Hall 1996). Coloniality as a concept describes how the articulation of race and labor, specifically, persists into the present period (McIntyre & Nast 2011; Morana, Dussel & Jauregui 2008; Werner 2011). The coloniality of power, explicitly theorized by Anibal Quijano, is the “the articulation of hierarchical forms of social difference with wage and non-wage forms of labour control” (Werner 2011:1576). Quijano’s focus is on how the race/labour relation continues to be articulated in ever-transforming ways in the present moment. 	 32			 Coloniality is not simply a labor/race relation, however, but also an intersectional matrix of power. Ramon Grosfoguel draws on black feminist theorists of intersectionality to codify the colonial matrix as “multiple and heterogeneous global hierarchies (‘heterarchies’) of sexual, political, epistemic, economic, spiritual, linguistic and racial forms of domination and exploitation where the racial/ethnic hierarchy of the European/non-European divide transversally reconfigures all of the other global power structures” (2007: 217). As such, heteropatriarchy, Christian religiosity, Enlightenment epistemologies, and white supremacism have been negotiated across the world through official colonial relations but also, more recently, through globalization, neoliberalization, and other forms of global interconnectivities. Such systems of power are not totalizing, however; although they have been exercised with considerable domination, there exist many other epistemologies, cosmologies, and ways of being throughout the pluriverse that are being practiced in articulation with other ways of knowing, many which have never disappeared, and some of which are experiencing a concerted effort at resurgence (Sundberg 2014; Blaser 2014).  Theorists of coloniality do not always or necessarily speak to the Brazilian experience, yet what they say has important implications for understanding Brazil. Decolonial theorists point to the necessity of understanding how histories of colonization in the so-called New World continue to inform the present moment. For instance, Portuguese colonialism in what is now called Brazil was crucial to helping establish the race/labour relation that underpins coloniality. Indeed, the majority of slaves brought through the transatlantic slave trade docked in Rio de Janeiro and worked sugar and coffee plantations in Brazil. According to some scholars of race, the contested and incomplete nature of Portuguese colonialism shaped the forms of race/labour that continue to operate into the present (Santos 2002; Cesarino 2012), which I elaborate in Chapter 4.2. More generally, the idea of coloniality opens up a specific problem space in my work: how the intersectional matrix of power continues to shape neodevelopmentalist urbanization projects. Yet, being sensitive to the postcolonial critique, I do not want to simply “read off” systems of colonialism and assume they shape Brazilian urbanization in simple or straightforward ways. Instead, I want to understand the particular forms that social differences (some of which were violently negotiated through 	 33			colonization) take at this particular socio-historical conjuncture. I thus use a conjunctural approach to understand coloniality in the contemporary period, which I outline below. First, however, I turn to another specific and situated theoretical approach: how critical urbanists have interrogated urbanization processes in Brazilian favelas and, indeed, thrown into question what a favela is.  2.2.3 Favelas and Marginality Debates  The nature and definition of favelas have long been debated in academic literature and public policy in Brazil. Last chapter I discussed how the notion of favela itself is fraught, yet retains usefulness as a concept in my dissertation because it points to particular policy prescriptions and socio-spatial imaginaries. In this chapter, I am interested in historical debates about the idea of favelas as marginal to urbanization processes and to the city in general. In this section I discuss these marginality debates that have transformed academic theorizations of favelas – from being marginal to integral to the urban. I then turn to how contemporary theorizations of precarious settlements inspire a conjunctural approach to understanding urban phenomena.  Popular and academic debates of the “urban condition” in Latin America were, in the first half of the 20th century, characterized by a marginality thesis, in which precarious settlements, slums, and favelas were understood as sites of prostitution, criminality, and informal employment, as a function of the cultures of the people who settled these areas. Much of this work was inspired by the Chicago School (AlSayyad 2004) and modernization theory (Perlman 2004). Simmel and Park’s theorizations of migrants and racialized Others as passive and marginal, as a “cultural hybrid” constantly trying to find a place in the city, was influential around the world (AlSayyad 2004). In Brazil, marginality debates were grounded in similar “cultures of poverty” theses (Perlman 2004, 2011), and were inherently racialized and civilizational arguments: people who have migrated to Brazil’s favelas are often from more rural areas of the country, assumed to be backward (Fischer 2008), and from the North-East with its predominant Afro-Brazilian population. Crucially, these “margins” of Brazilian cities were thought to be spaces of endemic and ontological informality.   	 34			However, in the 1960s and 70s scholars in and of South America began to discredit the “myth of marginality” (Perlman 1976, 2004; see also AlSayyad & Roy 2004; Caldeira 2009). Janice Perlman, who titled her dissertation-turned-book after this myth (see Perlman 1976), argued that in fact people in marginal areas were very much integrated with the city in myriad ways: structurally, they were part of the logic of capital accumulation as they partook in low-wage industrial and domestic jobs or formed a reserve army of labour, lowering the costs necessary for urbanization; they were part of the politics of the city, with mass mobilizations fighting for rights to tenure and housing through both sanctioned and non-sanctioned channels; and they were part of the cultural fabric of the urban, sharing music and dance across morro (hill) and asfalto (concrete) borders. Scholars who argued against marginality, including Anibal Quijano and Manuel Castells, were often speaking from experiences of “peripheral capitalism,” steeped in dependency theory (Perlman 2004), and thus inclined to disrupt notions of inherent backwardness or an “outside” to capitalism, and any modernist-like conceptions of development.  These critiques of marginality also shifted meanings of informality. If spaces such as slums and other precarious settlements were not inherently backward bastions of cultures of poverty, neither were they inherently informal as a function of these cultures. A significant wave of scholarship from this more “critical” perspective on informality was conducted by theorists of urban labour markets, who posited informality as an ontological sector of the labour market that is a structural feature of capitalism (Roy 2015; AlSayyad 2004; Perlman 2004).14 Characterizing slums and informal settlements as spaces of informal employment, or as spaces inhabited by those “thrown out” of the capitalist system, continues today under Wacquant’s notions of “advanced marginality” and Mike Davis’s “planet of slums,” where “slum” becomes a metonym for violence, informality, lack and despair (Roy 2015; Caldeira 2009).  Recent critical urban scholarship in Brazil has approached Brazilian favelas and precarious settlements not as ontologically distinct and marginal spaces standing apart from the 																																																								14 By the 1970s, some theorists also believed the informal sector to be a potential solution to unemployment: the inefficiency of production in this sector was theorized to create a larger number of jobs than in the more “efficient” formal sector (see Armstrong & McGee 1968; Potts 2008). 	 35			“formal” city and its urbanization mechanisms. Instead, this scholarship – reacting against marginality theses – takes as its starting point that favelas and other precarious settlements are places that have always been co-constitutive of urban forces. While some scholarship and much policy still sees favelas as places of “premodern” and “feudal” rule – characterized by an absence of state and thus as spaces of “incomplete modernity” (see Arias 2006a) – much work disrupts this notion of incompletion, absence, and lack. Scholars such as Mariana Cavalcanti, Vera Telles, and Teresa Caldeira argue that informal settlements’ endurance is not “residual” but rather crucial to new spatial configurations of power, profit, and politicization in Rio. They throw into question the very definition of a favela, precarious settlement, informal community, or slum, asking us to understand how these communities are always-already related to urbanization processes and governance logics, and how they transform these logics. This analytic task is particularly crucial at the present moment, when favelas and precarious settlements have become hypervisibilized through the new politics of concrete and cocaine (Cavalcanti 2009; see Chapter 1). In the contemporary period, how can we theorize the qualitatively new relationships between Rio’s favelas and the state apparatus as places such as Complexo do Alemão become the target of large-scale infrastructural development and public security initiatives? Vera Telles (2015) argues that the only way to methodologically understand contemporary processes of market formalization and new state violence in precarious settlements is to interrogate their specific microconjunctures: to tease apart, via ethnographic work, the new relationships between citizens, state officials, market logics, and violences that characterize these new initiatives. We must, she urges, look at how the relationships between these forces are constantly transformed, and how their boundaries are continuously negotiated in transversal ways (see also Caldeira 2017).   In sum, these recent debates in critical urbanism have opened up a particular problem space of theorization. The postcolonial critique in hegemonic and English-language geography has compelled scholars to interrogate the specificity of urbanization processes in different parts of the world, theorizing from the experiences of cities and processes not heretofore taken seriously in urban research. In essence, it asks us to account for historical difference not as empirical variation, but as situated and negotiated through the specific historical processes that shape diverse urban forms. It also asks us to pay attention to the situatedness of our 	 36			theorizations. As a response to this invocation (admittedly operating in hegemonic urban theory myself), I have presented two theoretical interventions, or provocations, for understanding urbanization processes in Brazil, specifically. I have discussed modernity/coloniality theory of Latin America, which compels me to take seriously the specific histories of colonization, racialization, and other processes of social difference-making that continue to inform the present moment, albeit in ever-transforming fashion. I have also discussed critical urban theory of Brazilian favelas, which urges scholars to understand the co-constitutive relationships between precarious/informal settlements and the so-called formal city, and the urbanization projects and governing logics that operate across these different (but not ontologically distinct) spaces. To do so, following Telles, one must understand the specific conjunctures, or microconjunctures, through which governance, market creation and formalization, and violence operate. I outline this approach in the following section.  2.3 Towards a Postcolonial Conjunctural Urbanism  These diverse theorizations all point to the necessity of undertaking a historically-informed, relational, and interscalar analysis of urbanization processes in places such as Complexo do Alemão. Yet it is not only theory that has pointed me in this direction. The contentions of activists and organizers have also informed my analytic for understanding urbanization projects in Rio de Janeiro. In this section I offer a way to incorporate these inter-related concerns through the analytical approach of conjunctural urbanism. I do so by first engaging with scholars in English-language urban studies, specifically, who are promoting different forms of conjunctural urbanism. I then propose four specific tenets of this approach that responds to the aforementioned invocations of modernity/coloniality theory, critical urban theory of Brazil’s precarious settlements, and the contentions being made by activists themselves. These tenets are: historical differentiation; relationality; interscalar analysis; and articulation in its dual sense. As it is relevant to each, I put into conversation three different 	 37			theoretical inspirations: Gramscian-inspired geographers; Latin American-inspired modernity/coloniality theorists; and critical Brazilian urbanists.15  As described above, a major stake in recent hegemonic discussions of the urban is how to account for historical differentiation. In other words, are differences in urbanization simply empirical variations of a general model, or are there fundamentally different processes of urbanization? Both political-economic and postcolonial-oriented scholars have proposed a conjunctural approach to understanding difference. Inspired and guided by postcolonial theory, Ananya Roy (2015) urges scholars to account for historical differentiation wrought through diverse histories that include colonial and imperial relations. To her, a conjunctural approach “theorize[s] historical difference as a fundamental constituent of global urban transformation” (Roy 2015:8). She compels urban scholars to:  pinpoint the conjunctures at which the urban is made and unmade, often in a highly uneven fashion across national and global territories…It is [the] persistence of historical difference that is of concern to me and that I want to pose as an analytical challenge to current conceptualizations of the urban (Roy 2016:814 & 817)  Jamie Peck (2017) has also recently deployed the Gramscian notion of the conjuncture to develop and codify a methodology for creating new theories of the urban. He proposes an “arcing” method through which to develop mid-level concepts that account for shared urban phenomena in the North Atlantic region. Peck pays careful attention to the multi-scalar “context” of neoliberal hegemony – that there is something common to the experiences of different cities that must be deduced from inter-case comparison. Context here is “about finding and accounting for contextual effects ‘all the way down’, as well as ‘all the way across’ unevenly developed terrains” (2016:16). This involves paying attention to how political economic power operates from the macro to the micro in one location and region, as well as understanding how this power joins or articulates – operates across – seemingly distinct places. His purpose is to, in part, account for a “wider landscape of transformative change” (2016:16).  																																																								15 I categorize these approaches in a heuristic fashion, while recognizing there is, or could be, significant overlap between them. 	 38			 These scholars’ emphases are different. Peck pays greater attention to the relationality between different urbanization processes in different places and attends to the contexts that shape these processes in common ways, whereas Roy emphasizes the situated and diverse histories of colonialism, capitalism, and imperialism that shape vastly divergent urbanization processes. Yet each is interested in understanding how urban spaces develop as the result of historical processes, and uses a variation of a Gramscian historical conjunctural approach to do so.   What, then, is a Gramscian historical conjuncture? In the Prison Notebooks, Gramsci (2010:177) defines a conjuncture in a number of different ways but perhaps most explicitly as “the set of circumstances which determine the market in a given phase, provided that they are conceived of as being in movement, i.e. as constituting a process of ever-changing combinations, a process which is the economic cycle.” Drawing on Gramsci, Sapana Doshi and Malini Ranganathan (2016:16) argue that the conjuncture is the “coming together of social and political forces to establish hegemonic regimes and new opportunities for contestation.” As such, a conjunctural analysis focuses on “how diverse forces come together in particular ways to create a new political terrain” (Hart 2003:27). These forces, or “relations of force” (Hall 1996), come together, or articulate, in specific ways at particular moments to create an over-determined social formation (Hall 1996) and, indeed, to produce particular places. Relations/forces here “cannot be deduced from abstract logics but must be made historically specific” (Hart 2003:31), a process that “requires attention to race-class (and other) articulations forged through situated practices in the multiple arenas of daily life” (Hart 2003:31). A conjunctural analysis thus avoids reading off systems of capitalism, globalization, colonialism, or race, and focuses instead on the historically specific and concrete ways that diverse forces produce reality.   Different scholars emphasize various components of a Gramscian conjuncture. I focus on and elaborate four specific tenets based on the invocations of both activists and urban theory: historical determination; relationality of the state and favelas; interscalar processes; and dual modes of articulation. I begin each section with how activists, organizers, and residents 	 39			inspired me to approach each tenet, based on implicit and explicit arguments they were making at “A Copa Pra Alemão Ver” and similar events. I then discuss each tenet in relation to academic literature.   2.3.1 Historical Determination/Overdetermination   At “A Copa Pra Alemão Ver,” we gathered around as organizers projected images onto the streets and buildings across the way. This is a common tactic among activists in Brazil: to re-appropriate, or re-signify, public space by inscribing a new meaning onto it. At this event, organizers used a laptop computer to project images about police violence onto the street. One image read “No to the genocide policy of the Brazilian government” (Fig 2.8). Another juxtaposed an image of police brutality during the military dictatorship with that which has occurred during democracy (Fig 2.9). Both images point to the historically embedded processes and practices of police violence that shape the current UPP project, and allude to the fact that it is young black men from favelas who are disproportionately exposed to state violence. Both, thus, have prompted me to think of how new “inclusion” projects such as pacification and PAC are informed by historically-shaped racialized geographies, and how they draw on, yet reconfigure, previous modes of police violence.   Due to contentions such as these, I draw upon an analytic that centres historical determination. A Gramscian-informed methodology, specifically, assumes a complex social structure or reality16 that is comprised and (re)produced socially through diverse axes of power (Glassman 2003). The methodology is historical materialist in that it looks, historically, for the various social forces that have shaped a socio-geographical conjuncture. 																																																								16 Postcolonial and decolonial theories can take issue with this conception of historical reality or, rather, the ways this reality is interpreted by scholars. Historical materialist analyses may suppose that a scientist can approximate a real world “truth” about how social forces operate. It can, therefore, (re)perform a male, God’s-eye view of the world from which the all-seeing researcher can discover said “truth” (Sundberg 2003).  Moreover, decolonial and postcolonial thought is often attentive to the performativity of reality: that diverse worldings may be constructed through the onto-epistemological cosmologies of people not captured in analyses focused on Western notions of “reality,” or the concepts that are privileged in Eurocentric knowledge frames (Blaser 2014; Sundberg 2014; Mignolo 2000). These diverse worldings remain admittedly unresolved in my dissertation due to limits of research time and constrained by responsible research practices/ethics. Rather, what I hope to add to a Gramscian conjunctural approach attuned to postcolonial and decolonial theory is how different social forces of colonial and imperial power continue to shape particular historical conjunctures. 	 40			Here, a given social structure is “conditioned…by the specific character of the material (‘economic’) process of production and social reproduction” (Glassman 2003:690). However, it is not economic processes alone that account for any given conjuncture; rather, social reality is overdetermined in that “the struggle to produce class transformations [that is, the appropriation of surplus] is itself simultaneously a political, cultural, ideological and – it must be added, against a culpable historical Marxist silence – gendered and racialized struggle, within and against specific crystallized forms of power” (Glassman 2003:692).17 Numerous processes of gendering, racialization, and social production and reproduction thus inform any given historical conjuncture and the ways in which economic surplus is appropriated in any given space-time. In other words, according to Gillian Hart, “economic practices and struggles over material resources and labor are always and inseparably bound up with culturally constructed meanings, definitions and identities, and with the exercise of power, all as part of historical processes” (Hart 2003:27)  Drawing on Latin American decolonial philosophers and critical Brazilian urbanists, historical determination must account for Portuguese colonialism and how it has influenced particular social formations such as race and class in Brazil. These are not static formations but indeed have been shaped and transformed over the last five hundred years. The particularity of class processes in Brazil, for instance, manifests in a specific form of what Ermínia Maricato (2009) calls internal colonialism. This is a dependent form of development that has allowed a Brazilian elite (guided by international interests in an increasingly financialized global climate) to appropriate surplus from, and violently control, racialized peoples and lower classed populations in Brazil (see also Alves 1985). Historical determination also requires me to pay attention to the genealogy of urbanization policies and public security programs in Brazil. This approach situates these contemporary projects and 																																																								17 Here I draw on Jim Glassman’s notion of overdetermination, which is based in Leninist and Maoist thought. Glassman (2003:680) argues that “a conception of social process as both overdetermined (i.e. involving complex underlying structures, rather than simple monocausal forces) and as overdetermined (i.e. having a discrete number of such structures the relative causal efficacy of which can be practically judged in given contexts) is crucial to strategic political thinking.” In this conceptualization, the social world is comprised of numerous interlocking “structures” such as patriarchy, capitalism, and (neo)colonialism in which people partake because these social relations are central to the “the production and reproduction of social life” (Glassman 2003:681). Yet I augment this notion of overdetermination with the more cultural approach taken by Hart, where meanings and identities that are socially and discursively constructed also affect social reality in any given instance (and, in many cases, are tied to axes of structural power). 	 41			policies as the result of historical negotiations between diverse state and non-state actors. The seeming contradictory logics of these projects can often be explained through analyzing how they arose historically. Urbanization is not an accident of the present, but wrought through particular historical configurations that have often been hotly contested amongst elite and non-elite actors.    2.3.2 Relationality (of Political and Civil Society, and of Favelas)  At another community event, this one in May of 2014, a prominent local activist toured a group of 30 researchers, journalists, and community residents around Complexo, showing areas where PAC and other infrastructural projects were built. He also pointed out where the new developments had necessitated the destruction of houses and left, in their wake, a major mess. On one of these demolished houses, we watched two artists paint a message saying “Poverty isn’t a case for the police” (Fig 2.10). The actions and audience at this event expose something of the relationality of favelas. They demonstrate the movement of people between morro and asfalto, as many of the journalists and researchers, such as myself, were from “elsewhere.” In some respects, the organizers of the event were trying to get their message “out” and create new relationalities across what are often considered “distinct” spaces, with some of us attendees as conduits of this knowledge. It also demonstrates how people are reacting to new forms of state presence: they shed light on the ways that the government is active in re-making urban space through PAC and pacification, but they are also trying to reconfigure the relationship with each, in part by calling for greater accountability to clean up the area and to decrease violent policing. Events such as these have inspired me to think of the relationality between favelas and the state (and the porous and contested presence of the latter), and of the relationality between morro and asfalto.   The State is, indeed, central to Gramscian notions of the conjuncture. It is, in my conceptualization, a “historical bloc” (Dussel 2008:40) of the ruling class, in which a “certain social organization of sectors, classes, groups” is allied and consolidated as a function of specific space-times. The integral state, to Gramsci, consists of both political society (the official government) and civil society – it may comprise officials in government 	 42			positions, the legislature, and people outside the official government apparatus who nonetheless influence its actions and appropriate surplus in various ways.18 This bloc rules through hegemony and domination.19 Hegemony, here, is a contested political process (Hart 2003; Dussel 2008), the result of both coercion and consent by the ruling class, or the State: “the State is the entire complex of practice and theoretical activities through which the ruling class not only justifies and maintains its dominance, but manages to win the active consent over those whom it rules” (Gramsci 1921: 244; in Hart 2003:26). The bloc is also provisional and conjunctural: it is always at risk of losing consent and, when it does, must operate in more forceful and coercive fashion through military and police violence (Dussel 2008). Drawing on Gramsci’s notion of the integral state, then I think of the state as the dominant class interests that achieve, maintain, and defend hegemony in and through the government apparatus but that are also always tied to elite actors outside formal government institutions – such as construction conglomerates, political machine operators, and narcotrafficking leaders. Moreover, in Brazil, specifically, social movement factions – such as labour unions and urban land rights movements – have been crucial to achieving new hegemonies and transforming the very composition of the state. Movement actors have, indeed, become the government in cases such as the Worker’s Party, and these parties have been transformed as a function of assuming the government apparatus and entering new elite relationships (see Chapter 3.2).  Critical urban scholars of Brazil emphasize the relationality of the state and its territorializations in and through favelas. These communities in Rio have always had diverse relationships with state officials and logics. There is a complex and ever-shifting interface of government, as Telles (2015) calls it, present in precarious settlements, from tax collectors, urban managers, and councilors, to police forces and the military. All are present in various 																																																								18 In the Prison Notebooks, Gramsci (1921) uses multiple definitions of the State. Sometimes he uses the State to refer to political society (or the official government apparatus), while at other times he mobilizes the idea of the integral state – or the ruling class that operates through both the formal government and civil society organizations and services such as newspapers and education. In this dissertation I draw primarily on this latter conception of the integral state.  19 Gramsci (1921:80) elaborates: “Between consent and force stands corruption/fraud (which is characteristic of certain situations when it is hard to exercise hegemonic function, and when the use of force is too risky). This consists in procuring the demoralization and paralysis of the antagonist (or antagonists) by buying its leaders…in order to sow disarray and confusion in his ranks.” 	 43			configurations, being involved in ever-transforming relationships of clientelism, extortion, corruption, and/or sharing of appropriated surpluses (Telles 2010, 2015). Clientelist and neoclientelist relations, in particular, have long been important to governance and industry in Rio de Janeiro, where favelas and other precarious settlements were (and continue to be) political capital for politicians, who would often exchange small gifts, such as water spigots or garbage collection, for votes (see Fischer 2008, 2014; I elaborate on the ever-transforming clientelist relations in Chapter 5). Moreover, informal settlements have allowed large numbers of city labourers to exist on subsistence wages in the absence of significant state and industry funding, and as such have been central to urbanization and industrialization processes (McCann, 2014a&b). Thus in Rio, according to Brazilianists Bryan McCann, Vera Telles, and Brodwyn Fischer, politicians and capitalists have often had significant political and economic interest in precarious settlements, and have been present in these territories in myriad ways. They have, for various reasons, benefited from not fully legalizing, regularizing, or formalizing these communities. Favelas are thus territorializations of relational state processes that seek to accrue economic and political capital for the elite. The task of scholars, in these contexts, is to understand how relationships between political and civil society are being transformed through new state-led projects. How, for instance, do different factions of capital seek to appropriate surplus through new infrastructural projects, how do these projects operate through both consent and coercion, and how are different governing logics traversed and reshaped through these actions?  Yet there is also significant agency on the part of people who live in favelas and other precarious settlements. Residents of the Brazilian periphery who are not members of the state or ruling elite often engage official and formal logics in “transversal” ways (Caldeira 2017), negotiating “legal” and “illegal” folds throughout their everyday lives (Telles 2010). Teresa Caldeira has coined the term “peripheral urbanization” to account for the ways that people construct their communities and engage transversally with the state. Peripheral urbanization is a condition of the periphery, where the periphery is understood not as an ontological location, but as a space where “official logics…of legal property, formal labor, state regulation, and market capitalism” (Caldeira 2017:7) do not operate in a straightforward 	 44			manner.20 Residents do not directly contest these logics and the officials who attempt to govern and enforce them; rather, local residents engage them in transversal ways, for instance through squatting unoccupied land, negotiating with local political operators, and operating in both legal and illegal markets simultaneously (see also Telles 2010). Crucially, “by engaging the many problems of legalization, regulation, occupation, planning, and speculation, [citizens] redefine those logics and, in so doing, generate urbanizations of heterogeneous types and remarkable political consequences” (Caldeira 2017:7). Peripheral urbanization is, then, a “distinctive form of agency” in which “Residents are agents of urbanization, not simply consumers of spaces developed and regulated by others” (Caldeira 2017:5). This condition of agency has resulted in residents autoconstructing their homes and communities over many years, creating urban spaces that are “always in the making” (Caldeira 2017:5). Methodologically, peripheral urbanization points to the necessity of understanding the agency of residents: how they engage different state logics and actors to build, and in some cases protect, their communities. Moreover, it is crucial to understand how peripheral urbanization and autoconstruction are being transformed in different spatio-temporal conjunctures, where particular places are indeed being invested, in ambivalent ways, with capital and new state presences.  2.3.3 Interscalar Analysis  At “A Copra Pra Alemão Ver,” street artists were painting highly politicized messages onto the walls surrounding the square in which we were standing. One image, in particular, stood out to me; it was the image showing a soccer ball being kicked into, and destroying, a number of favela homes (Fig 2.2). Written on the soccer ball was the word “FIFA.” Encapsulated in this image, as I have read it, is a sense that football’s world governing body has a direct hand in the day-to-day forces of destruction in Complexo and other Brazilian favelas. The effect of the imagery is compounded by the fact that it is painted next to the site 																																																								20 Peripheral urbanization has a specific geography: it is a process occurring in many Southern contexts, according to Caldeira, due to inconsistent or informal state support and recognitions of large swaths of lands and communities. It also shifts spatio-temporally within a given region: because community members are always building up their property and lobbying the state for investment and housing rights, they often increase the value of their settlement, and thus the community is increasingly inaccessible to others. As a result, “peripheral urbanization is a process that is always being displaced, reproduced somewhere else where land is cheaper because it is more precarious or difficult to access” (Caldeira 2017:6).  	 45			of a demolished house, which forms the visible daily landscape of people living in this particular neighbourhood. The painting suggests, then, that seemingly global forces – such as FIFA – have ongoing local and embodied effects, and inform the symbolic and material landscapes that people constantly navigate. Processes and outcomes of urbanization can here be understood as multi-scalar, with effects that permeate and shape daily life.   A conjunctural methodology or analytic is inherently multi- and interscalar. The “set of circumstances” (Gramsci 2010) and “relations of force” (Hart 2003) that shape a conjuncture can operate from the local to the global scale, defining both a very particular social formation in an urban centre, but also creating a more expansive context through which different urbans must “play the game,” so to speak. To outline her notion of the conjuncture, Gillian Hart uses Doreen Massey’s notion of spatiality and space-time. Massey conceives of spatiality “as constructed out of the multiplicity of social relations across all spatial scales, from the global reach of finance and telecommunications, through the geography of tentacles of national political power, to the social relations within the town, the settlement, the household, and the workplace” (Massey 1994:3 in Hart 2003:35). Place, such as a municipality like Rio de Janeiro or a complex of favela communities such as Complexo do Alemão, is formed through the specific articulations of different spatio-temporal trajectories operating at “interlocking and socially constructed scales” (Hart 2003). Here, the “specificity of a place – however defined – arises from the particularity of interrelations with what lies beyond it, that intersect or come into conjuncture in particular ways” (Hart 2003:35). Spatio-temporal flows of knowledge and power may be long term in nature – for instance, racializations that have arisen and been consolidated through histories of colonization; or shorter term – for instance flows of financial capital “during particular moments…of economic and political crisis” (Sheppard et al 2015:1956).   The national and global scales have long been central objects of analysis to many Brazilian scholars. For instance, many point to the ongoing forms of dependent development that shape Brazil, particularly the ever-transforming relations between national elite actors, federal state officials, and international markets (for example, see Alves 1985; Maricato 2009; Rolnik 2011). These relationships operate at diverse scales, however, and require 	 46			interscalar analyses. Financialized markets, for instance, are co-constituted by relationships between internationalized financial capital, multilateral lending institutions, national pension funds, and personal consumer debt. They also affect national and municipal economic growth strategies as well as create new debt relations between homeowners and lending institutions. An interscalar analysis also requires interrogating the relationships between different levels of government: how municipal, state, and federal governments are aligned (or not) for particular public security or urbanization ends. But space-time flows also exceed the state. New digital technologies, for instance, are bringing into new relation different parts of the globe, and non-state actors – such as NGOs – are increasingly involved in urbanization projects in Brazil. A multiscalar conjunctural analysis must account for these diverse actors, knowledges, and technologies working across scales to produce particular urban formations at any given conjuncture.  2.3.4 Dual Modes of Articulation  Because I was initially studying the teleferico, the street art that held the most significance to me at “A Copa Pra Alemão Ver” was the image comparing resources invested in PAC and the UPP to those invested in the priorities of the community (schools, hospitals, sanitation, and clinics) (Fig 2.11). This image, as I read it, creates a visual equivalence between the teleferico and the UPP units, as all are lined up in the left-hand column of the flag. In listing these two distinct projects in such a manner, the artist (whether intentional or not) has created an impression that links, or articulates, PAC and pacification. Both, as suggested by the image, are highly visible projects prioritized by different levels of government. Yet it is not just the artist’s rendering of these projects – together – that has inspired me. It also compelled me to understand the power effects of these types of discourses. This image itself is productive in a sense: it constructs and articulates a visual critique, from this particular location in the favela, of these projects. As such, it is crafting a new regime of visibility and a new way of knowing these forms of state intervention through sometimes-contentious imagery and discourse. The painting thus articulates – joins – PAC and the UPP, and it articulates – enunciates – a critique of the projects.  	 47			Central to my conjunctural approach is the neo-Gramscian notion of articulation: the joining together – and consequent transformation – of different modes of accumulation at specific socio-historical conjunctures. In this dissertation I am interested not only in the articulation of different modes of production, but also in how different actors and forms of governance are articulated. Actors in precarious settlements are articulated “in an arena of disputes, negotiations, accommodations, agreements and conflicts revolving around the distribution of resources, modes and place of urban improvement, service implementation” (Telles 2015:23). The constantly transforming relationships between different actors – the diverse ways in which they are articulated to one another – shape politics, knowledge, and resource distribution at any given moment. The idea of articulation, moreover, is central to the projects I am interrogating: I am interested in the interconnections, points of resonance, and relationships between pacification and PAC, between militarized public security and infrastructural development, which I call PACification.  Drawing on the aforementioned decolonial scholars, it is also crucial to understand how different axes of coloniality are articulated through urbanization projects. Here, articulation does not simply mean intersection; rather, following Judith Butler (2006) and Walter Mignolo (2000), the concept captures how different axes transform one another when they come into relation. For instance, how processes of racialization and regimes of accumulation transform one another over time (see Chapter 4.2); and how ideologies of civilization and developmentalism are transformed through new market formalization and expansion projects (see Chapter 6.5).  Yet I also push beyond this notion of articulation as simply a joining together. Following Stuart Hall (1996), I think of articulation in its dual sense: this joining together (of, for instance, modes of production; see also Wolpe 1980); but also as an enunciation, a discursive production. Both the act of joining and the enunciation transform that which is being joined or depicted. For instance, through articulation, “class position and cultural forms are combined in the making of collective identities, during the ongoing struggle and negotiations over power and resources” (Yiftachel 2009:254). Throughout this dissertation I am particularly interested in the discursive, or power-producing, effects of enunciation. In this 	 48			conceptualization, all people produce power effects when they participate in naming, enunciating, imaging, or witnessing. Yet, of course, different people are able to appropriate and use discourses to varying degrees and for different (often violent) ends. Members of the state, for instance, may produce their own discursive renderings of internal enemies, informality, and abandonment, in order to create and justify new markets or stimulate investment. These discursive constructions are articulated to and through new regimes of or attempts at capital accumulation. But it is not just the state that has the power to enunciate. In a more Foucauldian vein, every articulation has power effects which can create and reproduce established discourses (or, in a more Gramscian mode of analysis, reproduce hegemony), or they can disrupt these established discourses, attempting to unsettle normalized ways of doing politics and normalized forms of violence. I am particularly interested in this latter notion of enunciation as unsettling; I pay attention to how narratives of corruption are constructed (Chapter 5) and digital images of violence are made viral (Chapter 7) to disrupt normalized or hidden state violences.   Favelas, themselves, are a discursive articulation. As discussed briefly in the introduction and elaborated in this chapter, there is no ontological condition of a favela. Rather, following Perlman, favelas are socio-spatial imaginaries that have stigma as a defining characteristic. While there may indeed be no ontological distinction between precarious settlements and the formal city, they are discursively opposed to one another such that one gains meaning through the other’s negation: the morro, the favela, is the not-asfalto, the uncivilized, the non-modern, highly stigmatized spaces of the city (Perlman 2011). In this dissertation I think through the relationality of morro and asfalto via an anticolonial or decolonial lens, as I pay particular attention to how colonial notions of “backwards,” “informal” and “uncivilized” are articulated to favelas and discursively used to underpin capitalist market expansion and to further state violence. Overall, then, I think of Complexo do Alemão in this dissertation not as a community ontologically distinct from the so-called formal city, but as relational and discursively produced as a function of its specific socio-historical conjuncture.   In this dissertation I employ the conjunctural analytic I developed above. First, I think of Complexo do Alemão as a particular place shaped by multiscalar flows of capital and 	 49			knowledge that have been informed by Brazil’s specific history of colonization, but also by present day relations of financialized capital and the country’s neodevelopmentalist agenda. I thus, second, conceive of historical processes as central, and vital, to the current manifestation of state interventions in Complexo. Indeed, it is impossible to understand the seemingly contradictory impulses of PACification without tracing how the projects have come into being, and how infrastructural development and public security have been articulated, in its dual sense, through Brazilian history. Third, I consider favelas as territorializations of the ever-transforming relationships between civil and political society. Inspired by Caldeira and Telles, I discuss how community members themselves continuously traverse relational dynamics with the state, from engaging in new forms of clientelism to calling out state violence and corruption. I also think through new forms of agency and transformed modes of autoconstruction, as residents continue to build their own communities in ways that are necessarily in relation with, and a function of, new large-scale infrastructural and public security interventions. Finally, I consider how articulation, in its dual sense, operates through PAC and pacification. I think through how new articulations (or conjoinings) of diverse actors and axes of coloniality operate through PACification. I also pay particular attention to the enunciations of Complexo activists, journalists, and residents: how they are not only building their own public spaces with bricks and mortar and formalizing their property through official registration channels, but are also enunciating new discourses and visibilities that seek to unsettle normalized violence.  Historical processes are central to understanding contemporary urbanization programs in Complexo do Alemão, thus the dissertation has two chapters that are historically oriented and three of a more contemporary nature. The next chapter, Chapter 3, traces the policy histories of so-called inclusion projects in Brazil and Rio de Janeiro. It crafts a genealogy of public security and urbanization policy and programs that takes seriously the relationality of favelas with the so-called formal city and with elite political actors. In this chapter I also consider the space-time flows of financialized capital and Brazil’s neodevelopmentalist agenda, defining and situating PACification within the contemporary conjuncture.    	 50			Chapter 4 takes a long historical view of the articulations of public security and infrastructural development throughout Brazil’s history. In this chapter I pay close attention to the articulation (as joining) of racialization and accumulation regimes; and the articulation (as enunciation) of internal enemies that has been crucial to the legitimation of these projects. I also draw on the abstracted notion of the coloniality of power, as developed by modernity/coloniality philosophers of Latin America, and concretize it at the particular conjuncture of PACification in Complexo and Rio more generally.  The three empirically-oriented chapters take seriously the history documented and theorized in these chapters. Each also deploys concepts developed at different levels of abstraction. For instance, chapter 5 is inspired by work in India that has analyzed the progressive and interventionist nature of corruption narratives  in a move that Jennifer Robinson (2016), in her recent work on the comparative gesture, would call an unexpected comparison. Here I am motivated and inspired by work done “elsewhere” to ask a question in a particular context. I also inductively engage with Complexo residents’ own narratives of corruption, discussing academic literature (and Brazilian concepts of neodevelopmentalism, for instance) where appropriate. Chapter 6 uses notions of formalization developed in Brazil and other Southern contexts, as well as more abstracted notions of the coloniality of power, to interrogate the effects of formalization mechanisms in Complexo. Chapter 7 focuses on the concepts of peripheral urbanization and autoconstruction – developed specifically through experiences of the Brazilian peripheries – in conversation with literature from North America on digital visualities. What holds these chapters together, beyond on an empirical focus on PACification in Complexo do Alemão, is a conjunctural analytic: all of these concepts are deployed, tweaked, and reconfigured according to the four tenets of a conjunctural methodology outlined above (namely, historical determination, relationality, interscalarity, and articulation). While I engage with academic literature of postcolonial, decolonial, and critical Brazilian urbanism to do this, I also take seriously the provocation of postcolonial and decolonial theory to re-orient knowledge production. Each chapter, then, is also inspired by the words and actions of journalists, activists, and other residents of Complexo do Alemão.   	 51			2.4 Methods “In the Field” (or “How I Did It”)  In following the aforementioned conjunctural methodology – attuned to interscalarity, historical determination, articulation (including enunciation), and relationality – I have had to utilize a number of different research methods. In brief, I have attempted to spiral both up and down (following Peck 2017) PAC and pacification projects in Complexo. I have done so by interviewing people at a range of positions and positionalities, from senior level government and World Bank officials, to local shopkeepers and activists. I have also attempted to account for the context and spatio-temporal flows of the conjuncture in Brazil by engaging with Anglo- and Portuguese-academic literature and policy documents. Of course, this attempt to scale from the macro to the micro, from the global to the local risks superficiality. I hope that I have been able to engage different voices and opinions in developing explanatory logics and theorizations, but recognize that the ambitions of my project leave some depth wanting.  My research utilized three main techniques: first, participant observation of (or sometimes more accurately, walking with) community gatherings, resident association meetings, and social inclusion-based movements; second, interviews with city planners, activists, development professionals, and state officials; and third, public policy and public news analysis. Each is elucidated below.   As part of my participant observation, I lived in Alvorada, Complexo do Alemão, adjacent to the new UPP Nova Brasília and Itararé teleferico stations. Most of this work was completed in the five months prior to and during the 2014 FIFA World Cup, although I supplemented this work with a preliminary research trip in the fall of 2013 and a follow-up trip in March of 2015. I lived in Barraco #55 the majority of the time, but also stayed in central Rio and spent a month in São Paulo.  My work has not been a “classical” ethnography, as I did not spend the amount of time necessary for such a method in Complexo. However, I believe that spending time with people in their communities did reveal to me some of the commonsense and everyday ways 	 52			in which people are living. It was also crucial for me in gleaning some of the harder-to-spot politics that are sometimes hidden from visitors, such as fractured or tense relationships with Resident Associations (see Chapter 5.1.3). As stated above, my situation in B55 allowed me to attend activist meetings, help organize events, and engage in the daily rhythms of life in Complexo, from darting to the local bakery for fresh bread every morning, to discussing the trajectory of bullets and mapping safe places to walk. There was also considerable community mobilization at this time due to the large presence of, and heightened tensions with, the military police officers in the lead up to the World Cup. As such, I attended protests, spoke with activists, conducted formal and informal interviews, and engaged in discussions in public forums – both online and in public gatherings. I participated in protests in Centro (Rio’s downtown), Zona Sul (Rio’s South Zone, including the major beach districts), and in Complexo do Alemão.  I conducted expert interviews with city planners, government officials, construction workers, engineers, social movement actors, community activists and residents. By “expert” interviews, I refer to people who are considered experts in developing urbanization projects – specifically the projects in Complex but others, too – and also those who are the experts at being targets of these projects. Interviews were semi-structured in nature, consisting of a number of guiding themes that were elaborated as deemed important by the respective interviewees. Following Jamie Peck and Nik Theodore (2012:26), I approached the interviews as dialogical knowledge-production encounters, where “interviews enable the purposeful coproduction of social data, at the nexus of interviewee worldviews and the evolving bundle of questions actively pursued by the researcher.” In total I conducted 41 formal interviews, of which 26 were recorded. Some interviews were not recorded because they were not arranged as interviews but became so as the dialogue continued. Others were not recorded because the interviewees did not want to be captured on tape for security reasons. These so-called formal interviews were augmented by the hundreds of conversations I had with friends, activists, and community residents during my stay in Complexo, many of which informed my thinking even if not offered here in the form of verbatim quotations.   	 53			All interviewees are identified by pseudonyms. This was not a straightforward decision, as journalists and activists deserve credit for their actions. I had numerous conversations with Ellen about this issue. She felt that many Complexo residents wanted their names to appear in print because they have for so long been rendered voiceless and nameless by many in political society. However, due to the context of police violence and the recent Brazilian turn towards authoritarianism, as well as my own institutional ethics rules, the identities of the interviewees will remain anonymous unless their words have appeared in a public forum.21 Their collectivities/organizations, if public, retain their original names.  Finally, I conducted discourse analyses of news media and policy documents about PAC, UPP, and PAC Social initiatives and the communities that these projects target. Following Foucault, I take the discourse about a certain event to be constitutive of truth, which frames what can or cannot be said or done about a particular topic. News analysis and policy documents both reflect what people think is happening at a particular time-space, but also give us clues as to how stereotypes, knowledges, and socio-spatial imaginaries act as enframing devices, legitimating and making true notions of endemic criminality, for instance, which justifies violent military intervention. Following this approach, I have analyzed gray literature about PAC and pacification – specifically public policy and legislation (such as the City Statute and Constitution) – created by the Brazilian government and other non-state actors. For each of these types of literature, I read and coded the respective documents according to shared dominant themes. This gave me a sense of how different truths are being constituted and framed.    																																																								21 My ethics application said all interviewees would remain anonymous. 	 54			2.5 Figures for Chapter 2                                              Figure 2.1 A Copa Pra Alemão Ver gathering. Photo taken 8 Jun 2014 by author. Figure 2.3 “Cup for whom?” Photo taken 25 Apr 2014 by author. Figure 2.2 A Copa Pra Alemão Ver anti-Cup street art. Photo taken 8 Jun 2014 by author. 	 55			                                           Figure 2.6 Breakfast at B55. Photo taken 29 Jan 2014 by author. Figure 2.4 A typical gathering in B55’s kitchen. Photo taken 24 June 2014 by Ellen Sluis. Figure 2.5 B55 residents. Left to right: Eddu Grau (co-founder of B55); Dave Rono (B55 resident from Kenya); me. Photo taken 22 April 2014 by author. Figure 2.7 The animals of B55. Photos taken 21 April 2014 by author. 	 56			                            Figure 2.9 Another A Copa Pra Alemão Ver projection. This one compares military police action under the dictatorship to that under democracy. Photo taken 8 Jun 2014 by author. Figure. 2.8 A Copa Pra Alemão Ver projection: “No to the genocide policy of the Brazilian government.” (See chapter 8 for more on this event). Photo taken 8 Jun 2014 by author. 	 57			                                             Figure 2.10 “Poverty isn’t a case for the police.” Photo taken 21 Apr 2014 by author. Figure 2.11 A Copa Pra Alemão Ver anti-UPP and -teleferico street art. Photo taken 8 Jun 2014 by author. 	 58			Chapter 3: Histories of Urban Upgrading and Public Security in Rio’s Favelas  When you ascend the steps of Bonsucesso station, the first teleferico station that sits on the edge of Complexo do Alemão, a sign greets you:  Welcome to the Alemão’s Cable Car, the first cable mass transport of Brazil. The system has 6 stations with 3,5km of lenght and 152 cabins. Bonsucesso is the first station and it makes integration with the railway of Rio de Janeiro. (Fig 3.1; typos in original)   Stations form not a circuit but a line, extending from Bonsucesso, a suburb on the edges of Complexo do Alemão, up into the communities. The stations of Adeus, Baiana, Alemão, Itararé, and Palmeiras are each located at the top of different hills throughout the complex. In all cases but one, the teleferico station name refers to the name of the hill. Itararé is named after the road that connects the concrete (the asfalto) to the top of the hill (the morro); the hill itself is called Alvorada. Different stations have different sponsors: TIM – a cellular service company – sponsors Bonsucesso while Kibon – a Brazilian-Argentine ice cream producer – sponsors Alemão. The gondola system was the largest investment of the Workers’ Party (PT) Growth Acceleration Program (PAC) in favela urbanization projects. The teleferico is also currently a white elephant: the government is no longer running the system because it has not proven financially viable.  When I first arrived in Complexo, my interpreter and interlocutor, Andre, immediately toured me through the interior of the Bonsucesso teleferico station. After we walked through the turnstiles into the “fare paid” zone, he pointed out a series of placards on display against the wall of the station that detailed, in chronological fashion, the history of favela urbanization projects in Rio de Janeiro (see Cavalieri 2013; Fig 3.2). Of course, as with any history, the displays tell a particular version or truth of events as they occurred in Rio. Yet they offer a chronology of favela interventions that is consistent with much academic literature on Brazilian urbanization that focuses on state-driven policy. Below I trace these key moments, telling a fairly typical (albeit contested) story of urbanization policy as told to 	 59			residents, tourists, and researchers alike through academic and popular forms of story-telling such as the teleferico displays.   Inspired by the conjunctural analytic developed in Chapter 2, in telling this story I focus on the historical development, relationality, and space-time flows of urbanization and public security programs in Rio de Janeiro, generally, and Complexo do Alemão, specifically. Drawing on secondary literature, I argue that the development and purposes of contemporary urbanization and public security projects cannot be understood without historicizing how they have come into being in the first place.22 In other words, they are necessarily historically determined. Such programs have always been the result of varying alignments between political parties and national elites operating at different levels of the government, and have shifted according to negotiations between who is in power and able to realize their agenda. I emphasize that contemporary large-scale urbanization projects such as PAC, for instance, are a result of the particularities of the Workers’ Party (PT) government, shaped by its left-leaning and interventionist politics, but also by the space time flows of financialized capital and relations with elite national and global capital that have been central to the party achieving and maintaining power.23 I also demonstrate that while politicians, including Dilma and Lula themselves, often invoke the myth of marginality and rhetoric of abandonment to justify contemporary large-scale urbanization and public security programs (see Chapter 5), these areas have never been fully abandoned. A primary purpose of the chapter, then, is to demonstrate the relationality of favelas and their upgrading programs: how these spaces have always been a concern of the state, and have been created through various state and economic logics where residents, themselves, have had a vital hand in shaping service provision, albeit in variable and contested ways.   This chapter is organized into four main sections. First, I trace the history of urbanization projects in Rio, specifically, as a function of the multiple state and non-state actors that have 																																																								22 This chapter is based on secondary literature rather than primary archival research. Much work has already been done to document the history of public security and urbanization programs in Rio. As such, I do not aim to reproduce this research, rather emphasize key points that are central to understanding contemporary projects in Complexo, which I detail at greater length as the dissertation proceeds.  23 This, of course, would not last, due in part to allegations of the very forms of corruption that the PT has had to engage in to operate effectively within Brazil’s political apparatus. 	 60			brought them into being. I then turn to the most recent and large-scale form of urbanization created by the PT – the country’s Growth Acceleration Program (PAC). Here I emphasize the historically determined nature of the PT (and thus of PAC), and its relationship to space-time flows of capital and other national elites. Next, I document a brief history of public security projects in Rio, specifically, which have oscillated between a war on crime and a community policing approach, depending on the political climate (and political party) of the moment. This section ends with a brief introduction to pacification, as the latest manifestation of Rio state government’s approach to community policing – albeit with characteristics of a war on crime approach – implemented as Rio seeks international investment. Finally, I conclude the chapter by discussing the historical development of Complexo do Alemão, specifically, and how this complex of favelas has become the target of both PAC and pacification.  3.1 History of Urbanization Policies  The federal, state, and municipal governments of Brazil and Rio de Janeiro, respectively, have always had variable and contested relationships with precarious settlements. In this section I present, via secondary sources, how favelas have always been related to the economic and governance logics of the state – being both a problem and solution for industrial development, economic growth, and the safety of cities. Over the last one hundred years, the state’s policy towards favelas has shifted between eradication and in situ upgrading efforts, depending on the different governments in power. Yet the state is not the only actor that has been enrolled in, or indeed led, service provision and regularization in favelas. In this section I thus also pay attention to the myriad actors involved in the contestation and negotiation of urbanization policy.  3.1.1 Favelas as a Problem and Solution for Political Society  Most accounts of the history of Rio trace favelas’ emergence to the late 19th century, when many former slaves migrated from coffee plantations to Rio de Janeiro, settling on Morro da 	 61			Providência in temporary dwellings (Fischer 2008; Leeds 1996).24 At a similar time in the late 1800s, military commanders allowed homeless soldiers who had fought in the Canudos War to inhabit the hill in central Rio home to the convent of Santo Antonio (Abreu 1988; Leeds 1996). Cholera and yellow fever outbreaks would come to plague these communities and the rest of the city, ushering in a form of “hygienist urban modernization” (Cavalieri 2013). This so-called modernization targeted these early favelas, assumed to be the locus of disease, for eradication (Fischer 2008, 2014). The sanitary code of 1890 and 1904 created the legal framework for evicting residents in the name of public health, which operated as “selectively enforced instruments that effectively granted city officials the power to allocate the tolerance of illegality” (Fischer 2014:34). The discursive articulation of favelas as backward and disease ridden was central to legitimating eradication campaigns.  At the turn of the century, Rio underwent a period of Hausmann-inspired modernization in which Prefect Pereira Passos and French urbanist Alfred Agache designed and constructed large open avenues (Fischer 2008; Cavalcanti 2014a). At the same time, the federal government offered incentives to industry to construct workers’ villages, “villas” (Fischer 2014) or “shanty settlements” (McCann 2014a,b).25 Such a pattern of development was common in areas adjacent to large institutions. Through the creation of these villages, according to Bryan McCann,  settlement was tolerated, not directed, but it obeyed the codes of institutionalized patronage and responded to the exigencies of a labor environment where subsistence-level wages required a workforce living in the immediate vicinity without paying rent. (McCann 2014b:104)  Cases such as these offer early examples of the government’s cultivation of – and thus inherent relationality with – seemingly “informal” (or unregulated/regularized) spaces and communities.   																																																								24 Brazil was the last country in the Western Hemisphere to officially abolish slavery, which it did in 1888.  25 One of the best-documented examples of these early villas occurred in 1904 when the Brazilian navy set up a hospital on a hill adjacent to Rio’s beaches and tolerated the building – or autoconstruction – of informal housing by its workers and their families (McCann 2014a). 	 62			Between the 1920s and 1940s the population of Rio tripled due to rural-urban migration: agricultural crises and drought, alongside the federal Getúlio Vargas administration’s promise of industrial employment, drove many to Rio (Fischer 2008; Leeds 1996). In the 1940s, yellow fever resurfaced as a major issue instigating another round of favela eradication efforts by Vargas appointed-mayor of Rio Henrique Dodsworth (1937 to 1945) (Cavalieri 2013; Fischer 2008). Vargas and Dodsworth were behind the construction of temporary proletarian parks for the displaced residents and for industrial workers. Different levels of government also created new agencies to assist in eradication efforts: with American funding, the state of Guanabara (the precursor to the state of Rio de Janeiro) focused on slum removal programs via the Cooperativa de Habitação Popular do Estado da Guanabara (COHAB) (Cavalieri 2013; Gay 1994). Simultaneously, the National Housing Bank (BNH) became enrolled in relocation efforts, funding accommodation for 140,000 dispossessed favela inhabitants in a ten-year span. With the anti-favela orientations of Rio state governor Carlos Lacerda (of the National Democratic Union – UDN; elected 1960) and the new federal military dictatorship (seizing power in 1964), thousands of old and new favela residents would be evicted from communities in Rio de Janeiro (Leeds 1996).   3.1.2 Non-State Organizing and Insurgent Citizenships  But the government apparatus was not the only force working in favela communities. As detailed in Chapter 3.1, favelas have long been a territorialization of the efforts of different actors – a contested interface of civil and political society. Church, NGOs, and residents alike have long been involved in crafting new urbanization efforts. During the 1940s and 1950s, for instance, a new major player would enter favelas: the Catholic Church. At the time, the government was worried about communism spreading through unregularized, precarious settlements, and thus actively recruited the Church to become involved in favela consolidation (Gay 1994; McCann 2014b). With support from the federal government, the Church focused on improvements in favelas as well as on resettlement projects (Cavalieri 2013). In fact, the Catholic Organization of Cruzada São Sebastião, with federal funding, 	 63			implemented the first large-scale housing project within a favela.26 The Church continued its efforts into the 1960s.  Another key favela policy stakeholder, this one oriented towards upgrading, entered the scene during the 1960s. A number of economists, planners, and architects, with the backing of USAID, created the Community Development Company (CODESCO) in 1967, which, working at cross purposes with COHAB and BNH, focused on urbanization (that is, upgrading) projects (Gay 1994). As Janice Perlman frames it, CODESCO was “a radical counterexample to BNH” (Perlman 2011:269) because it focused on in-situ housing vis-à-vis pilot projects that would serve as experiments for future upgrading efforts. One of CODESCO’s first projects was to convince then-governor of Rio, Francisco Negrão de Lima (of the Partido Social Democrático – PSD), to advance low-interest loans for construction materials to the settlements of Mata Machado, Morro União, and Brás de Pina (Perlman 2011; Cavalieri 2013).27 While the program was relatively successful in supporting favela residents to transform housing (Cavalieri 2013), the project ended in 1969 because the federal government (the military dictatorship) continued to be pro-eradication (Perlman 2011).28   People who lived in favelas were also central organizers for improving favela conditions. Many favela resident associations, having been politicized through eradication efforts and state neglect, created the Federação das Associações de Favelas do Estado da Guanabara (Federation of Favela Associations of the State of Guanabara – FAFEG) (Gay 1994; also Fischer 2008) which became highly influential in organizing for land, infrastructure, and services (Rodrigues 2016; McCann 2014a; Gay 1994).29 The insurgent organizing of these 																																																								26 They also codified an understanding of urbanization as “the minimum condition necessary for human existence and moral, intellectual, social, and economic elevation” (Fischer 2008:75).  27 The PSD was directly at odds with the federal dictatorship.  28 At the federal level, the military dictatorship channeled its efforts at favela eradication through the Coordenação de Habitação de Interesse Social da Área Metropolitana (CHISAM). CHISAM removed over 100 favelas in Rio (Gay 1994).  29 FAFEG was created largely through the mobilization of residents of favelas in Rio’s industrial North Zone, where Complexo do Alemão is located. 	 64			groups was thus central to attracting new investment into favelas.  In fact, the organizational efforts of favela leaders were so important at this time that McCann (2014a) argues these associations were the so-called “vanguard” against the military dictatorship. The favela movements were also intrinsic in electing new favela-friendly municipal and state governments (Israel Klabin of the Partido do Movimento Democrático Brasileiro, PMDB; and Leonel Brizola of the Partido Democrático Trabalhista, PDT, respectively) (Gomes & Burlamaqui 2016).30 Brizola, specifically, saw favelas not as problems but as “solutions” to the need to live close to employment and foment close community ties.31 Residents organizing efforts through FAFEG and through the political electoral apparatus were thus central to favela-targeted urbanization projects.  3.1.3 The Political Interface of Urbanization After the Dictatorship  The national government’s eradication efforts slowed in the 1970s, due to the political and economic infeasibility of the programs: relocated people were angry and organizing, often through FAFEG, and the relocation programs could not recover the cost invested (Perlman 2011; Gay 1994). The mid-1970s was also the beginning of the long and uncertain transition to democracy. In this climate, and with extensive flooding in Rio that destroyed many favela homes, the national government created its first upgrading project in 1979 called Promorar, which focused on five favelas including the Complexo do Maré of Rio’s North Zone (Perlman 2011; Gay 1994).32   																																																								30 Both created their own upgrading initiatives with the support of CODESCO – Klabin used UNICEF financing to begin urbanization efforts in Rocinha, while Brizola focused on land titling in different carioca favelas (Perlman 2011; Rodrigues 2016).  31 Both created programs that harnessed the labour of favela residents: the municipal government’s Projeto Mutirão (1985-95) paid residents a minimum wage to construct sanitation infrastructure, while the state government’s Cada Família um Lote (1983) also used residents’ labour to upgrade two favelas in Rio, focusing on water, sewage, and land titling (Perlman 2011; Cavalieri 2013; Rodrigues 2016).  32 During this period, in addition to the federal government’s re-oriented efforts, the Catholic Archdiocese of Rio and the city’s municipal government created their own upgrading agencies. New organizations included: the Pastoral das Favelas of Rio – a grassroots entity informed by liberation theology created by the Catholic Church in 1976 (Perlman 2011; Gay 1994); the Municipal Secretary of Social Development (SMDS) – “the first government agency that had been created to deal specifically with the problem of the favelas” (Gay 1994:23); and the Pereira Passos Institute (IPP) – responsible for developing projects and conducting censuses of Rio’s favela. 	 65			The official transition to democracy in 1985 (when the military regime ended) consolidated the new in situ upgrading approach. This consolidation was due in part to the financial crisis of the mid-80s, which forced BNH to close, thus ending the major form of government housing for dispossessed residents (Cavalieri 2013). The shift to democracy was also inspired by a Right to the City movement and, as previously mentioned, widespread social mobilization, with favela activists and resident associations organizing for land titling, education, and public security (McCann 2014a). Their demands became codified in the new democratic federal Constitution of 1988 and the subsequent City Statute of 2001 that prioritized integration and participation33 of low-income residents and communities into the urban fabric (Maricato 2009, 2010).34   A number of consolidation or urbanization projects, led by both state and non-state actors, followed. With heavy rain and flooding in the early part of the 1990s, then-mayor Cesar Maia (1993-1997) had the political clout to begin a municipal program called Reflorestamento-Mutirão Remunerado (Remunerated Self-Help Reforestation) that used community labour for growing vegetation to prevent flooding, and also provided educational services within the favela (Perlman 2011). The successes of the Reforestation program inspired the first large-scale urbanization program of the municipal government, starting in 1994, called Favela-Bairro (Favela-Neighborhood).35 Yet this program was not led solely by Rio government actors; it also had the support and direction of international banks and civil society leaders. The cost of the program was 600 million dollars, of which the InterAmerican Development Bank (IADB) lent 300 million, with the World Bank also providing funding (Cavalieri 2013; Cavalcanti 2009). The program also drew heavily on the expertise of, and 																																																								33 The City Statute also required that each city prepare five-year master plans with one of their goals being said integration through participation and consultation with community members (Maricato 2010).  34 The city of Rio’s first five-year plan outlined steps to, among others, formally recognize favela residents and their land, collect garbage, and pave streets (Cavalieri 2013). This plan would never be fully implemented, however, due to an inter-state political crisis in which the state governor (Moreira Franco) refused to release funds to the City Council still loyal to former governor Brizola (Perlman 2011). With Saturnino Braga (PDT) as city mayor, the municipality went bankrupt, partly as a result of hyperinflation and conflicts between different levels of government (McCann 2014b). Key components of the original plan would, however, be resurrected in the five-year plan of 1990.  35 This program operated until 2008 and reached 300,000 people in favelas (Cavalieri 2013). 	 66			experiments with, the Brazilian Institute of Architects.36 Favela-Bairro expanded when the federal government-owned bank, Caixa Econômica Federal (Caixa or CEF), began financing loans for the initiatives, thus requiring a formalized bidding process and precise project timelines. These urbanization efforts in favelas, then, represent a complex relationship between multiple actors and space-time flows of capital that extend beyond Rio’s municipal or Brazil’s national formal government apparatus. 3.1.4 Interscalar Political Alignments and Attracting International Investment The late 2000s and early 2010s ushered in a new approach to upgrading, the result of new political alignments between different scales of government in Brazil and their desire to attract international business investment. In situ upgrading was a central component of Eduardo Paes’ (PMDB – Partido do Movimento Democrático Brasileiro) mayoral election campaign and his city plan oriented to Rio’s hosting of the 2016 Olympic Games (Steiker-Ginzberg 2014; Leitão & Delecave 2011; Cavalcanti 2014b). Paes’ administration – in alignment with Rio governor Sérgio Cabral and then-president of the Republic, Lula – strategized to market Rio as a global city, which they coined Rio Global (Brum 2016). Central to their plan for Rio’s development was to attract mega events and create a business-friendly climate for international investment. Favela urbanization was to be a central legacy project of the government’s mega event strategy (Brum 2016). In 2010 the municipal government thus introduced the Morar Carioca program. The goal of Morar Carioca was to scale up the Favela-Bairro municipal project and urbanize all favelas in the city by the year 2020 (Leitão & Geronimo; Cavalcanti 2014b).37 The central philosophy of the program was inspired by the participatory logic of the Brazilian Constitution’s City Statute: the program was to ensure “participation of organized society in all of the steps of the execution…through assemblies and meetings in the communities, and open presentations and debates for the 																																																								36 In the first phase of the program, the municipal government held a contest via the Brazilian Institute of Architects for innovative approaches to favela design. The municipality selected 15 favelas in need of upgrading, and assigned to each a winning architectural team (Perlman 2011). The goal of the project, according to Perlman, was to test and compare different approaches to favela urbanization.  37 A municipal decree provided the framework for the project, positioning the Municipal Secretary of Housing (SMH) in a coordinating role, and placing responsibility for favela mapping and censuses with the municipality’s Pereira Passos Institute (IPP). 	 67			participation of organized civil society and of citizens” (Article 1.2: 2).38 Morar Carioca was to be an integrated effort, focused on urban land regularization and infrastructural projects as well as social service provision (Decreto N36388 2012). Tucker Landesman (2017), a recently graduated doctoral student from the London School of Economics, calls this new approach integration, which includes but also operates beyond infrastructural upgrading: these projects are oriented towards marketization, employment, and extending public services. Crucially, Leitão and Delecave argue, the program also represents a shift in the state’s understanding of favelas: in the alignment between municipality, state, and federation, all levels of government sought to expand formalized market activity into these heretofore informalized favelas – framed as “untapped markets” – and to project an image of security, competence and strong investment climate onto the world stage during the 2014 FIFA World Cup and 2016 Summer Olympic Games.39  However, the project would be dismantled in 2013 with few initiatives ever materializing. While Paes cited lack of financial resources, Mariana Cavalcanti argues that, in light of the mayor’s right-wing, international investment-oriented agenda, Morar Carioca was likely never central to his plans (Steiker-Ginzberg 2014). With the massive infrastructural projects needed for hosting both the World Cup and the Olympics – such as the Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) System – by 2013 the municipality emphasized eradication practices, particularly in favelas adjacent to mega event projects (Steiker-Ginzberg 2014). The result has been that, “in the past decade, policy has retained the Favela-Bairro program’s basic tenets, but now these tenets are applied in the context of increased investments in strategic planning for the city in order to prepare for the World Cup in 2014 and the Olympic Games in 2016” (Cavalcanti 2014a:201). In other words, favela upgrading policy has shifted according to the capital accumulation efforts of Rio de Janeiro, efforts that are the result of alignments between different levels of government in Brazil, and that are focused on formalizing and growing economic markets in both the so-called formal and informal spaces of the city. 																																																								38 As Theresa Williamson of Catalytic Communities explains, “Morar Carioca, as it is written on paper, is an urban planner’s dream for favelas” (Steiker-Ginzberg 2014:para 3).  39 See Chapters 4 & 6 for more on the marketing of Rio and articulations between public security and upgrading policies 	 68			Favela policy in Rio de Janeiro has thus shifted significantly over time, from large-scale eradication efforts to recent experiments in in situ upgrading. Yet there has always been a state relationship to favelas – whether these territories have been objects of concern for the hygiene and safety of the city, or have been understood as crucial to subsidizing industrial labour or, more recently, extending consumer markets. Thus, favelas have always been related to state economic and governance policy. The above discussion also highlights, though, that it is not just the state that has been present and vested in favela policy. These initiatives have enrolled a variety of actors, from the Church, state and international banks, to Brazilian and international architectural teams, to favela residents themselves. Indeed, social movements that have arisen in and through favela organizations (such as resident associations) have been central to not only favela-oriented policy and service provision, but have also been central agents in electing political parties at all levels of government and shaping present-day urban constitutional law.   3.2 Scaling Up Urbanization Through Financial and Patrimonial Channels  The latest, largest-scale, and most comprehensive attempt at in situ upgrading has been implemented by the political party that the social movements of the 1980s and 1990s helped elect: the Workers’ Party (PT). During the PT’s reign, the federal government became a major stakeholder in favela urbanization projects through its national Growth Acceleration Project (PAC). In this section I focus on both the PT and PAC as historically determined entities, shaped by an inherited state apparatus that, as many commentators argue, has made so-called corrupt practices (via patrimonial politics) normal and perhaps even necessary to effect national-level change. Here, political society emerges as a function of relationships sedimented between the governing party and elites/factions of capital that shape how parties in power carry out their policies. I also point to how both the PT and PAC are the result of, and are re-shaping, space-time flows of capital, specifically financialized capital.  The PT government’s Growth Acceleration Program (PAC) was oriented towards global capital and global social inclusion agendas. In the state’s own rhetoric, the program was to “privilege large mobility and infrastructure projects and geared to combat the economic 	 69			crisis” (“Sobre o PAC” 2013; Cavalieri 2013). The PT boasted that PAC was largely intended to be a stimulus package to create jobs and generate income in the wake of the decidedly global 2008 financial crisis (“Sobre o PAC” 2013). Yet this project, according to Denise Ferreira da Silva (2016:199), was also part of a broader Brazilian orientation necessarily responding to “global capital’s need for a larger consumer market and smaller labor force.” Lula and Dilma’s economic agenda focused on natural resource extraction and agricultural production benefitting internationalized firms, in addition to expanding consumption of both commodities and debt (da Silva 2016). It was also articulated to human rights mandates promoted by international NGOs, informed by American programs of “affirmative action” that, in the late 1990s and through the early 2000s, have been increasingly incorporated into Brazilian national law and policy (da Silva 2016). These human rights agendas have more recently promoted social inclusion technologies that target “slum”-like territories for integration; international monetary and financial institutions such as the World Bank support and enact in situ urbanization projects as part of this new global mandate.40  The target areas of PAC/PAC2 included major social infrastructure, urban planning and energy distribution throughout Brazil. The first iteration of this program, from 2007-2010, occurred under the Workers Party (PT) government headed by President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (Lula). PAC2, the second iteration of the program (2011-2014), continued under the PT administration of President Dilma Rousseff. The program was divided into sub-programs that included: PAC Cidade Melhor (Better Cities), PAC Comunidade Cidadã (Citizens’ Community), PAC Minha Casa, Minha Vida (My House, My Life housing project), PAC Água e Luz Para Todos (Water and Light for All), PAC Transportes (Transportation), PAC Energia (Energy), and PAC Urbanização de Assentamentos Precários (Urbanization of Precarious Settlements). In addition to generating income, a primary objective of the program was for “fast and sustainable development” of “underdeveloped”/peripheral areas, and it intended to grant land tenure to favela residents across the country (Cavalcanti, 2014a). The first PAC program invested over R$504 billion (US$306 billion) into the economy, 																																																								40 World Bank publications and professionals often cite Brazil’s favela upgrading projects as key examples of this integration-sans-removal agenda.  	 70			while the second PAC2 aimed to invest R$959 billion (US$582 billion), money which came from “federal, state, and municipal government as well as private and state companies” (Skalmusky 2011:para 2). The arm of PAC that targeted favelas – Urbanização de Assentamentos Precários – was specifically oriented to fund favela infrastructural upgrading projects. Via this latter channel, PAC money has filtered down through the federal and state government to target three main favelas in the municipality of Rio de Janeiro: Complexo de Manguinhos, Rocinha, and Complexo do Alemão. It has thus been touted, in part, as a redistributive project that transforms relationships between government actors and favela communities.  3.2.1 Historical Determination and “Traditional” Brazilian Patrimonialism  It is impossible to understand PAC without understanding the federal party that implemented it: the Partido dos Trabalhadores (PT), or Worker’s Party. While the PT was elected to power as a left-leaning, social welfare-oriented party, it inherited a class-based institutional state formation structured on patrimonial politics and a finacially-dependent economy. Many scholars in Brazil argue that corruption and patrimonialism are so deeply sedimented, and the national elite so powerful, that the PT has had to follow suit with what Maricato, Oliveira and Raquel Rolnik call more “traditional” ways of doing politics, “strongly based on clientelism, patronage and control by business interests” (Rolnik 2011:244). Oliveira has called this a “seizure of the party by the state” (Oliveira 2006:17), in which “the [PT] is being dissolved into the state, in the sense that the tasks, obligations and rationale of the state have imposed themselves on the functions of the party” (Oliveira 2006:20). This “seizure” has resulted in the continuation of the “traditional political logic” (Rolnik 2011:244) in which the PT entered a coalition with other parties to gain a majority in parliament, while the “powerful elite, including landowners, businesses, and family oligarchies continued to be well represented in in Congress” (Rolnik 2011:244). Because he had been elected on a leftist platform, Lula did not want to continue the “traditional practices” of Brazilian patrimonialism, in which the ruling party would dole out seats in exchange for votes and favours (Anderson 2016; Oliveira 2006; Morais & Saad-Filho 2011, 2012). Instead, according to reports at the time, Lula began to disburse monthly payments to the 	 71			representatives of other parties and the ruling elite – such as construction company oligarchies – in what would be known as the Mensalão (monthly payment) scandal of 2005. After the Mensalão scandal broke, the PT reportedly reverted to the practices of previous administrations in order to maintain its power in Congress and Parliament, and to keep its elected seats: by placing people in positions of power in return for favours/votes – in the “worst traditions of Brazilian patrimonialism” (Oliveira 2006:20).  The teleferico represents one of the primary infrastructural projects that has reportedly redirected wealth through patrimonial relationships of favours and bribes. Odebrecht, known as one of the Four Sisters of Brazilian oligarchic construction companies involved in building the teleferico, has been central to patrimonial relations in Brazil since its meteoric rise during the military dictatorship.41 Since the end of the dictatorship era, a central strategy of the Four Sisters for retaining political power, and continuing to win so-called public bids, has been through donating to political campaigns.42 In 2013 alone, Odebrecht invested R$11 million of the R$17 million raised by the ruling PMDB party of Rio’s state government – the party that hired the firm to construct the teleferico (Belisário 2014). At the federal level, Odebrecht was one of the first companies to ever support the workers party (PT) (Campos 2011, 2013). That Odebrecht has emerged as a central player in the controversial Lava Jato investigation, and that the federal police have recently investigate bribery in its negotiations of the PAC Complexo do Alemão project, has come as little surprise to many in Brazil given this history.  But patrimonialism and clientelism have a new face as a function of the socio-historical conjuncture in Brazil. Alba Zaluar (1997) calls this a “neo-clientelism,” involving a new class of actors that head the state’s pension and hedge funds, development/investment bank, and public services. New patrimonial relationships have formed between fund managers – 																																																								41 Odebrecht epitomizes “family-based control” as a “feature of monopoly capital formation of economic groups” (Belisário 2014:para 2). The company rose quickly through Emílio Médici’s reign during Brazil’s military dictatorship period, as Médici was linked to Baiana and Paulista bourgeois business interests. Ernesto Geisel became president of state-owned Petrobras during this era and systematically hired the construction firm (Campos 2011, 2013).  42 Indeed, between them the construction companies contributed more than R$479 million to party committees and candidates in Brazil (Belisário 2014). 	 72			often former union leaders – and traditional elite family oligarchies in Brazil that rule many of Brazil’s construction companies, among others (Rolnik 2011). The PT has consolidated the power of   a new social class, defined by its access to and control over public funds. One wing of this class consists of an upper strata of workers’ leaders, who rose through the autonomous labour movement of the 1970s and 80s…[and were] appointed as workers’ representatives to the boards of pension funds43…Well before 2002, this fund-management stratum had crystallized within the core leadership of the Workers Party (Oliveira 2006:10)  Thus, the Workers Party as government had a central hand in this financialization of the state, which continues to shape the interscalar flow of capital through large-scale urbanization projects, as discussed below.  3.2.2 Interscalar Flows of Financialized Capital  The transnational and national dominance of finance capital has indelibly shaped PAC investments. The financialization of Brazil’s economy did not begin with Lula, although the PT has exacerbated the process.44 Brazil has undergone neoliberal financial reforms since the 1980s and implemented both Washington Consensus mechanisms to “open” the economy, and Brady Plan measures to decrease debt (Feijó, Lamônica & Lima 2016; Klink & Denaldi 2014). While Brazil successfully repaid its debt to external lenders such as the IMF, the country did so by borrowing domestically at much higher interest rates (Nakatani & Herrera 																																																								43They “had, by dint of their positions, become major players in Brazilian finance; their task now being to press for redundancies, sell-offs, and shut-downs, in pursuit of high returns on their investments” (Oliveira 2006:10) 44 Pre-PT experiments with housing finance – dependent on the creation of pension and retirement funds and the National Housing Bank – occurred in Brazil as early as the 1930s and 1940s (Klink & Denaldi 2014). Lula’s PT implemented a number of pro-finance measures to attract fictitious foreign capital: they abolished income taxation on foreign investors buying government bonds, and created the world’s highest real interest rates (Bin 2016). The pursuit of foreign capital investment by the state was an attempt to switch from a manufacturing-dominated to technologically-centred industrial economy (Feijó, Lamônica & Lima 2016). While Brazil has indeed been successful in attracting global financial inflows, as Feijó, Lamônica, and Lima argue, this attempt has not created the expected economic growth, and has manifested a structural change in the economy: the manufacturing sector has been significantly weakened, while the country has become more dependent on foreign financial capital. The country’s economic growth in the mid-2000s was due to a commodity boom – and the high prices of exported commodities heading to China (Feijó, Lamônica & Lima 2016) – rather than any growth achieved by finance or technology sectors.  	 73			2007). In other words, Brazil switched its external debt to internal debt. The country borrowed from domestic banks and investment funds such as Caixa, the Brazilian Development Bank (BNDES – the largest development and investment bank in Latin America), and the Workers’ Pension Fund (Fundo de Garantia de Tempo de Serviço, or Guarantee Fund Based on Service Time Contributions, FGTS). Since then, the country’s debt has been the main asset circulating within Brazil’s financial markets (Bin 2016).45 There has thus been an “explosive expansion of the public debt with interest payments draining off substantial public resources to the benefit of the financial markets” (Maricato 2010:21). In other words, payment on domestic debt has come at the expense of welfare sectors, with cuts to healthcare, sanitation, housing, urbanization, and unemployment insurance (Bin 2016; Maricato 2010).   Financialization, often associated with neoliberalization and globalization, has occurred in Brazil within the PT’s neodevelopmentalist (Morais & Saad-Filho 2012) or social-developmentalist (Klink & Denaldi 2014) agenda. Neodevelopmentalism in Brazil has a focus on “constructive interactions between a strong state and the private sector, with the former providing macroeconomic stability, supporting distributive outcomes directly, and nurturing large domestic firms (‘national champions’)” (Morais & Saad-Filho 2012: 790; see also Campos 2013) such as Odebrecht.46 Morais & Saad-Filho call Lula and Dilma’s PT policy prescriptions the “juxtaposition” of a neoliberal framework inherited from Cardoso with a more developmentalist agenda focused on a more activist state, spurring development and (increasingly financialized) investment in the national economy.   																																																								45 Federal domestic public debt accounted for an average of 41.1% of Brazil’s GDP in 1999-2014, compared to an average of 18.9% in the 1994-1998 period (Bin 2016). Brazil’s second largest budget expense after social security is the interest on this debt (4.5% per year of the GDP) (Bin, 2016).  46 They continue: “[N]eo-developmentalist policies are not limited to the narrow neoliberal goal of monetary stability. Their broader aims are summarized by the umbrella term ‘macroeconomic stability’, which includes inflation control, exchange rate and balance of payments stability supported by capital controls, fiscal sustainability, low interest rates and the reduction of uncertainties related to future demand, which should provide a more stable environment for private investment decisions…Achievement of these goals will require complementary monetary, fiscal, exchange rate and wage policies…aiming to restore the power of the state to control the currency, facilitate the implementation of industrial policies, promote competition, and support improvements in the distribution of income” (Morais & Saad-Filho 2012:790). 	 74			The Growth Acceleration Program, or PAC, is a neodevelopmentalist project, relying on state-owned and private sector enterprise investment that is shaped by a financialized neoclientelism (Zaluar 1997). Put another way, PAC has circulated large sums of financial capital as a counter-cyclical measure, faciliated by the state, to mitigate the global financial crisis, with this capital reportedly flowing through long-standing patrimonial channels. PAC investment has been facilitated by the expansion of credit lines of state owned banks (including BNDES, CEF, Banco do Brasil) for both production and consumption of infrastructure, and offering tax rebates to private investors (Barbosa & Souza 2010). PAC, specifically, has received much of its funding from FI-FGTS as well as FAT (the Worker’s Assistance Fund), and BNDES. PAC’s slum-upgrading or urbanization component has sought to use financial resources of securitization and secondary mortgage markets to develop infrastructure in low-income communities (Klink & Denaldi 2014). The program has also allowed the government to support “private ‘national champions’…with subsidized credit, preferential contracts, and share purchases by the state-owned banks and pension funds” (Morais & Saad-Filho 2011:35). This money has reportedly found its way to the large construction oligarchies – the so-called private national champions – that are now under investigation for “traditional practices” of bribery via Lava Jato and other federal police investigations.  PAC is closely aligned – both politically and programmatically – with another federal project based on both neodevelopmentalism and finance capital: Minha Casa, Minha Vida (MCMV – My House, My Life). This national program was introduced in 2009 and intends to both stimulate the economy and tackle Brazil’s housing deficit. It has been financed largely through offering inexpensive credit to both producers (developers, construction companies) and consumers (residents) of housing (Klink & Denaldi 2014). MCMV is a key partner of PAC: the project has built homes for some of the populations displaced by PAC infrastructural projects in favelas (see Chapters 5.2.3 & 6.3). MCMV also relies on PAC-supported municipal and state projects: the housing developments are supported through infrastructural investments, land, and beneficiary registration carried out at more local levels often financed by PAC. Both projects have sought to extend financialized capital and investment to its low-income “beneficiaries,” predominatly through enrolling people in new 	 75			loan arrangments such as low-interest mortgages. This social assistance housing is subsidized through both the federal budget and FGTS.47 It thus relies on finance capital invested in FGTS, and attempts to enroll increasing numbers of people in mortgage financing. Yet this capital continues to flow through aformentioned patrimonial and neo-clientelist channels: “There is increasing evidence that grants, subsidies and tax incentives have been capitalized by oligopolistic players in the real estate-finance complex, effectively reinforcing combinations of land price escalation, higher profit margins and lower quality of increasingly standardized units” (Klink & Denaldi, 2014:225).48  Federal stimulus packages such as PAC and MCMV are thus a manifestation of the forces that have brought the PT to power. They take shape through channels of (increasingly) financialized capital flows and elite relations that have been historically sedimented through the state apparatus. PAC, and its forms of urbanization interventions in Complexo do Alemão for instance, are thus necessarily shaped by the neoclientelism and patrimonial relations with construction conglomerates like Odebrecht that helped the PT achieve and maintain political power. One cannot understand how the teleferico has come into being, for instance, without taking seriously these historically determined relations and space-time flows of capital. Yet large urbanization projects focused on in situ upgrading are not the only state-led projects operating in Rio de Janeiro’s favelas. In the next section I explore the history of public security interventions into these so-called “precarious” territories.    																																																								47 Brazil’s social assistance housing, targeted at people who make between 0 and 3 minimum salaries, has long been funded by both the federal budget and by compulsory contributions of formal sector workers to the FI-FGTS (again, a main financer of Brazil’s internal public debt and the PAC project) (Klink & Denaldi 2014). In this potentially redistributive housing prjoject, people with 0-3 minimum incomes are given subsidized credit/loans (with 60-90% of their mortgages funded by the federal budget and FGTS), and interest rates on FGTS loans are proportionate to income (anywhere from 5% to 8.15%) (Klink & Denaldi 2014).  48 Many commentators in Brazil also argue that MCMV has been largely ineffective. The program has not allocated enough housing to low income groups, with only 40% of housing earmarked for this Target I group that comprises 91% of the nation’s housing deficit, and has not included mandatory participatory mechanisms (Klink & Denaldi 2014). Thus, while MCMV has some qualities of a redistributive progressive project intended to diminish the housing deficit, it has mainly created liquidity and facilitated FGTS financing of lower-middle class housing built by the private sector (Klink & Denaldi 2014).  	 76			 3.3 Public Security and Pacification Policies  Rio’s favelas and other precarious settlements have, throughout history, been understood as threats to the city’s safety – health or otherwise. Yet this sense of threat grew markedly in the 1980s as the narcotrade trade, tied to international movements of cocaine and arms, expanded across South America and took root in carioca favelas.49 A global security agenda has emerged, which Denise Ferreira da Silva (2016) calls a “global security industrial complex,” focused on managing those people – often racial subalterns – who have been expelled from, or no longer labour in, the “formal” market economy and/or those involved in the narcotrade. This complex has been significantly influenced by the United States, which justifies its presence and deployment of violence in Latin America through the figure of the narcotrafficker (da Silva 2016; see Chapter 4 for more).50 Yet this security complex takes specific conjunctural shape in Brazil, as a result of global influences but also, as is my focus in this dissertation, on the historically informed security and policing apparatus operating at a more local (in this case, state) scale in Rio de Janeiro. In Chapters 4 and 6 I describe at greater length the historical articulations between economic growth and investment (often via infrastructural development) and public security in Brazil. In this section, my purpose is to briefly summarize the transformations of the state of Rio de Janeiro’s official public security programs within this larger global security paradigm. I rely heavily on Gomes & Burlamaqui’s (2016) Portuguese documentation of these projects, which has not been translated into English. This review is not exhaustive but gives a sense of how public security in Rio has shifted between community policing and war on crime approaches, as a function of popular sentiment and electoral politics. It demonstrates how these projects are always historically determined, and are the result of ongoing contestations between civil and political society.  																																																								49 Cocaine is produced in Peru, amongst other Latin American countries, and Rio de Janeiro has emerged as a major port of entry and exit for the drug (Leeds, 1996; Telles, 2010). Narcotraffic has gained a foothold in carioca North Zone favelas, specifically, where some narcofactions fomented during the military dictatorship have taken root, often employing un- or underemployed youth in the dangerous lower rungs of the trade’s hierarchy (Arias 2006a; see Chapters 4.3.2).  50 Brazil has had, however, a more contentious relationship with a hegemonic American security complex than other Latin American countries.		 77			 Public security projects have tended to oscillate between repressive and preventative orientations with successive state governorships. The first community policing initiatives were established by the Brizola state government (1983-1987) in the early 1980s. Brizola was pro-favela and anti-military dictatorship, and thus focused on changing the militarized structure of policing in Rio’s poor communities. To this end he appointed reformer Nazareth Cerqueira as Coronel of the military police and, drawing from community policing models in Koban (Japan), Ontario (Canada), and New York (USA) (see also Ribeiro 2014), crafted two pilot projects with the goal of strengthening the relationship between comunidades/favelas and the police force.51 Yet continued violence in Rio saw Moreira Franco of the PMDB win the 1986 state elections on a platform of “stop the violence in 100 days.” His government implemented a repressive form of invasion intended to re-assert the soberanía (sovereignty) of the state in favela territory.   Franco’s style of repressive policing created greater insecurity and violence, ushering in Brizola’s second term as governor (1991-1994), who again tried to implement public security policy with both preventative and repressive mechanisms. He reappointed Cerqueira to Coronel and together they created four new programs to permanently locate police in strategic favelas and enact a new philosophy of community policing focused on human rights. But robberies, kidnapping, and homicides continued to increase, and the federal government sent 15,000 troops to Rio to securitize the UN’s Eco-92 event hosted in that city. The following administration of Marcello Alencar (1995-1999) again mobilized military and police repressive measures52 and continued the federal government’s program in Rio called “Operation Rio.”53 These state and federal projects heightened insecurity and, as a result, voters in Rio elected Anthony Garotinho governor in 1998 on a platform of community 																																																								51 The project was ultimately unsuccessful due to lack of trust and continued fear between community members and the police.  52 Alencar promoted a war on crime policy that proved disastrous and murderous: victims of police violence increased from 16/10,000 under Brizola to 121/10,000 under Alencar, with simultaneous increases in overall homicide rates.  53 This project operated under President Itamar Franco. It was framed as controlling the frontiers of the state, and used army and military police siege tactics to invade favelas and apprehend (or kill) traffickers, along with seizing arms and drugs. 	 78			policing and decreasing the lethality of the military police forces.54 His wife, Rosinha Garotinho, subsequently assumed governorship and continued this approach, working increasingly in partnership with the NGO Viva Rio.  In 2006, Sérgio Cabral of the PMDB (aligned with the federal PT under Lula) ran for state governorship on a platform of repressing violence in Rio’s favelas.55 After he was successfully elected, Cabral appointed José Mariano Beltrame as public security secretary of the state of Rio to combat narcotraffic violence.56 Similar in style to Alancar, the first two years of Cabral’s governorship were shaped by a war on crime policy, inspired by Rudy Giuliani’s zero tolerance approach in New York City (Gomes & Burlamarqui 2016). However, continued siege and destroy tactics in Rio’s favelas – particularly in Complexo do Alemão, the seat of Comando Vermelho57 – dispersed traffickers to various comunidades across the city. Due to the resulting spread of violence, and the heightened spotlight of the city’s mega events, the state of Rio shifted approaches in 2008: back to simultaneous repressive and preventative programs relying on notions of community policing, and attempting to weed corruption out of the police force.58   Thus in 2009, Cabral and the PMDB passed law 41.650 creating the Police Pacification Unit (UPP) project, and followed in 2011 with law 42.787, creating the structure and guidelines for implementing the program. Often referred to as pacificação, or pacification, the UPP 																																																								54 This project was inspired in part by Boston’s Gun Project.  55 His so-called Government Plan also prioritized health alongside this repressive form of public security.  56 At the time, imprisoned trafficker Márcio or Márcinho VP launched a series of attacks against the police and citizens of Rio, motivating Lula to send the National Guard to Rio and inspiring a government policy of public order and war on crime. Cabral declared war in national newspaper O Globo: “our government is going to win the war against these criminals, we are going to give security to our population” (Gomes & Burlamarqui 2016:31).  57 Comando Vermelho (Red Command) is one of the largest and most notorious narcofactions in Rio. It was started on Ilha Grande during the military dictatorship when political prisoners were imprisoned with so-called “common bank robbers,” and the former taught the latter forms of organizing for rights and resources inside and outside of prison (see Chapter 4.3). When the narcotrade began flourishing in the 80s, Comando Vermelho became involved in the movement of drugs and arms. See Elizabeth Leeds (1996) for more.  58 This community policing approach was pilot tested by Cabral and Beltrame in Santa Marta in 2008, which would serve as the model for the state’s pacification program. 	 79			program consists of invasion by Brazil’s special elite forces and permanent occupation by the military police, with the eventual goal of training local residents in security and social programming (“UPP’s concept” 2012; Prouse 2012) through a proximity policing model (Willis & Prado, 2014). According to Beltrame, this approach to community policing differs from previous attempts because the objective is not apprehension of narcotraffickers, rather it is “retomar o território” (to return or re-take territory).59 The project is premised on both community and military police buy in, so to speak, and attempts to shift relations between these stakeholders. The project has achieved some success in various Zona Sul favelas, where homicide rates have decreased (Cano 2012; Amar & Carvalaho 2016). However, in these comunidades located in or adjacent to Rio’s more affluent neighborhoods, the UPP’s success has “also unleashed gentrification and social displacement” (Amar & Carvalho 2016:5). Land valuation is increasing in these areas, as are rents, food prices, and payments for new “formal” service provision such as electricity. Pacification in Rio’s North Zone has been less straightforward, met with periodic increases in tension, violence, and death.  Favelas have thus, since the 1980s, emerged as central narcotraffic concerns to various levels of government. Indeed, both municipal and state political parties have been elected in large part on the basis of their public security platforms or how, in other words, they have intended to manage these seemingly “insecure” spaces. No approach has been entirely successful, and the lack of success has created an oscillating effect as subsequent governorships shift between repressive and community policing endeavours. These endeavours, too, are the result of flows of policy models shared across transnational space.60 The most recent public security intervention of the state – the UPP – is the result of this historically determined oscillation, and the constantly transforming flows across space (flows of policy models, arms and drugs, and mega events). Moreover, the pacification program is bringing into new relation political actors, civil society organizations, activists, and narcotraffickers throughout 																																																								59 The program represents a departure from previously intermittent and violent police invasions of favelas space: it is, in part, an effort of the civilian police forces to weed out corruption and to maintain order in a more community-oriented fashion (Willis & Prado 2014; Cano 2006).  60 Unfortunately, due to time and resource constraints, following these transnational flows of policy is beyond the central scope of this dissertation. However, these relationships between policy models do point to the need for conjunctural analyses to attend to these space-time flows that are central to a situated conjuncture, perhaps following Peck’s (2017) arcing method. 	 80			Rio and, specifically, in Complexo do Alemão, relations which I document throughout the dissertation.  3.4 PAC and Pacification in Complexo do Alemão   Complexo do Alemão has been targeted by both PAC and pacification projects. In this section, I discuss how this complex of favelas has come into being through a contested history of various state interventions and civil society mobilizations. It is currently home to the largest PAC-Urbanization project – the teleferico or gondola system – and perhaps the most notorious and incomplete attempt at pacification. Here, I pay particular attention to the relationality of Complexo with state governance, and the active role community members have always played in its development. I also discuss how Complexo has been created as an object of intervention via governance codifications and socio-spatial imaginaries. These discursive articulations have been crucial to both PAC and pacification efforts in this community.   Complexo do Alemão in Rio de Janeiro is a complex of favelas in the city’s industrial and working class North Zone. It is comprised of 11 to 13 favelas, depending on which agency is doing the counting (Matiolli 2014; Oliveira 2016). Official accounts generally include Morro de Baiana; Morro do Alemão; Itararé-Alvorada; Morro de Adeus; Morro da Esperança; Matinha; Morro dos Mineiros; Nova Brasília; Palmeiras; Fazendinha; Grota; Reservatório de Ramos; Casinhas (Oliveira 2016).   3.4.1 The Growth of Complexo do Alemão as a Contested Civil/Political Society Interface  Historically these favelas were separate from one another and had different administration or governance regimes. They were also settled at different periods of time. At the turn of the 19th century, settlers – non-Indigenous peoples – occupied the general region that Complexo covers today. In the 1920s, these farmers began fractioning their lots on this territory (Couto 	 81			& Rodrigues 2015). Due to urbanization pressures61 (Holston 2009), the state pressured two local framers62 to sell portions of their land, on which it built the Instituto de Aposentadorias e Pensões dos Comerciários (The Retirement and Pensions Institute – IAPC) (Perlman 2011). This institute was partially responsible for relocating people who were being evicted from favelas in other parts of the city – generally in Zona Sul – and IAPC allowed many of the dispossessed to settle on this state-owned land.63   According to Rodrigues (2016), the area saw two key moments of expansion: the 1950s and the 1970s, respectively. During the 1950s, popular favelado movements were proliferating across Rio, organizing into resident associations and fighting for rights to basic services through new political bodies such as FAFEG. Key leaders affiliated with these movements invaded parts of Misericórdia, re-naming it Alemão (“German”) (Rodrigues 2016; Perlman 2011). They also settled the areas called Grota and Nova Brasília, with leaders of these respective communities forming the União para a Defesa e Assistência dos Moradores do Morro do Alemão (UDAMA) (Rodrigues 2016). Because they were settling predominantly public land, and because the federal government had recently approved the Lei das Favelas (1956),64 movement leaders assumed there was room to negotiate for access and services on and adjacent to IAPC land (Rodrigues 2016). Relations with IAPC became tense, however: the Instituto used legal measures to try to repossess some of their land from squatters, a move which proved ineffectual due to the mobilization of community leaders and the press coverage the latter were able to garner (Perlman 2011). The federal government was simultaneously targeting the area for eviction: Nova Brasília was on the military 																																																								61 Urbanization pressures here refers to large influxes of people migrating from rural regions in Brazil and immigrating from European countries, the former based on Rio’s industrialization and the latter based on the federal government’s racialized immigration policy (Holston 2009; see Chapter 4.2).  62 A Polish immigrant named Leonard Kaczmarkiewicz owned the land on a hill called Misericórdia (Rodrigues 2016; Perlman 2011) and a Portuguese merchant, Manuel da Veiga, owned a piece of land conjoining the bottom of Misericórdia and nearby hills (Perlman 2011).  63 IAPC’s relocations were central to the expansion of the area in the 1940s, but macroeconomic factors were also exacerbating migration: industrial agricultural practices alongside widespread drought were pushing migrants form the Northeast of the country, while industrial factories were locating to Zona Norte, drawing migrants to the region. Industry at this time was largely concentrated in the Rio suburb of Leopoldina in which Misericórdia was located (Oliveira 2016).  64 This law prohibited the removal of people in areas that were settled for more than 10 years 	 82			government’s list of favelas to be removed. Eviction never occurred however because, according to Perlman, the neighbourhood was located far from Zona Sul, it supplied vital labor to industry, and the community’s leadership was successful in mobilizing public support through the press (Perlman 2011). Resident mobilization and organizing – insurgent citizenship – was thus central to the expansion of favelas in what would come to be known as Complexo do Alemão.  During this period, both the government and the newly founded resident associations were involved in infrastructure and service provision. In the early 60s, the state funded basic infrastructure and social housing in the region – the government contributed materials, while local resident associations organized their own community volunteers to build and implement the projects through mutirão (Rodrigues 2016) – capitalizing on residents’ practices of autoconstruction.65 The government also assisted in access to land. When occupiers settled on private land, the government would often work to expropriate it from the private owners, thus taking it into public possession. Crucially, however, the state never legalized the tenure of those who settled there. The local resident associations were responsible for recording any housing transactions, but they could only issue a property registration document for the house, never for the land (Rodrigues 2016).   The continued organizing of leaders – through resident associations and their liaisons in government – were also able to secure small electricity contracts and water distribution infrastructure in the region (Rodrigues 2016). In 1961, the local community organized the Light Commission, which distributed electricity to nearby homes through connections to local power lines, while the state water company began to supply water to easily accessed homes along the main road of Nova Brasília (Perlman 2011). The population of the region grew from 8,000 to 30,000 at this time, which forced new residents to encroach on territory beyond Alemão, Grota, and Nova Brasília (Rodrigues 2016; see also Leeds 1996).   The second major period of expansion of what would become Complexo do Alemão occurred between the late 1970s and the late 1980s. At this time, many Brazilians were 																																																								65 Carlos Lacerda was governor at this time. 	 83			migrating to Rio from the country’s Northeast (Leeds 1996), and popular movements again targeted Alemão, Grota, and Nova Brasília for settlement. Crucially, these movements had the support of the new Pastoral das Favelas (PF) and the Federação das Associações de Favelas do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (The Federation of Favela Associations of the State of Rio de Janeiro – FAFERJ, the successor to FAFEG) (Rodrigues 2016; see also McCann 2014a), which operated with the support of favela-friendly governor Brizola. PF and FAFERJ organized, for example, the movement of residents from Alemão to Baiana, and from other favelas in the city to Palmeiras (Rodrigues 2016).   The area was also a target of increasingly larger-scale government interventions. The municipal and state governments were both heavily involved in infrastructural projects.66 At the same time, the Canadian-Brazilian electric company for Rio de Janeiro – called Light – installed large-scale electricity infrastructure. This period was thus characterized by new urban service provision whereby service utilities agencies were directly providing services (Cedae – water; Light – energy; Comlurb – garbage) (Rodrigues 2016). Resident associations generally heavily mediated service provision for individual favela inhabitants, and most people still did not have legal land tenure (Perlman 2011; Rodrigues 2016; McCann 2014a).   Favela populations in the North Zone of Rio would face two major transformations in the late 1980s. The first was related to deindustrialization alongside the physical growth of the city. Rio de Janeiro was spreading into Zona Norte, thus raising land prices. Valuation of land, alongside “environmental regulations (demanding) substantial investments from companies to remain in their original locations” (Perlman 2011:103), drove out of the region large textile factories such as Nova América Tecidos, beer factories, and finally, in 1997 the Coca-Cola bottling company (Perlman 2011; Fig 3.3). Deindustrialization of Zona Norte would create increasing unemployment, economic precarity, and social isolation in those 																																																								66 At the municipal level, the Municipal Secretariat of Social Development (SMDS), with funds from IADB, spent R300 million between 1981 and 1983 trying to “diagnose” problems in Rio’s favelas, much of which found its way to six in the Complexo region (Matiolli 2014). At the state level, Brizola created O Programa de Favelas da Cedae (PROFACE) to implement basic sanitation and sewage systems in Rio’s favelas. The program’s largest mark in the region was the installation of five fiberglass water tanks at the tops of hills, new sewage collection infrastructure, and the construction of 12,000 new buildings (Perlman 2011; Rodrigues 2016). Favelas in the area were also targeted by the aforementioned Mutirão program, which provided new sanitation infrastructures. 	 84			favelas primarily inhabited by factory workers. The second major transformation was linked to the expansion of the aforementioned Latin American drug trade and its territorialization of key operations in carioca favelas. As detailed at greater length in Chapter 4.3.2, narcofactions often took root in North Zone favelas and employed impoverished, racialized youth in these territories.  3.4.2 New Discursive Enunciations and Codifications of Complexo do Alemão  While these processes were dramatically transforming the everyday lives of favela inhabitants, the region also shifted administratively. “Complexo do Alemão” became consolidated on August 4, 1986 as Administrative Region XXIX through Municipal Decree No. 6011. Its boundaries were set on December 9 of 1993 to comprise 11 adjacent favelas (Matiolli 2014).67 With the creation of Complexo as an Administrative Region, the complex of favelas was now considered, administratively, a “bairro” (a formal neighborhood), while the favelas that comprised it were still recognized as favelas (informal neighborhoods) (Cavalcanti 2014a). CPX’s population was documented at 60,000 inhabitants and 18,400 homes (according to IBGE census 2010), although local community leader and activist Alan Brum estimates that there are currently more than 150,000 people living in Complexo (Rodrigues 2016).  Crucially to Thiago Matiolli (2014), a doctoral candidiate and researcher with local community organization Raízes em Movimento, the effect of creating Complexo do Alemão as an administrative region has codified a new scalar object of intervention in favela policy. Indeed, the municipality socially constructed a new scale that has allowed for particular forms of governance. Here, the government is less concerned about demographic data, or details of who exactly lives in the favela, and is more concerned with creating interventions and initiatives at the level of this new territorial scale. And, indeed, the new territorial scale 																																																								67 This consolidation occurred under the mayorality of Saturnino Braga, who also created the new administrative regions of Rocinha, Jacarazinho, and Maré. Braga’s hope was that these regions would function as Conselhos Governo-Comunidade (CGCs) in which local community representatives would faciliate dialogue between relevant sectoral government agencies and their respective communities (Matiolli 2014). The process lacked democratic legitimacy in the eyes of many favela residents, however, as community representatives had to be affiliated with Braga’s PDT (Matiolli 2014). 	 85			matters for policy, for geographical imaginaries, and for senses of belonging. With regards to policy, the amalgamation of Complexo into a single administrative entity meant that the region was too large to be targeted by Favela-Bairro, which was a project intended for medium-sized favelas. However, the size of the complex allowed it to be one of the major targets of PAC Urbanização de Assentamentos Precários, because this latter program was geared only to favelas of a large size (Fig 3.4).  The geographical imaginary – or discursive articulation – of Complexo do Alemão as a space of endemic narcotraffic violence has also been crucial for how the region has been targeted by urbanization initiatives. In the 1980s, Brazilian news media began to report of gunfire and military police interventions in CPX (Rodrigues 2016). Conflicts between narcotraffic factions and military police became common occurrences in the mid 1990s (Rodrigues 2016; Cavalcanti 2009), and Complexo was made infamous in popular media and discourse as a primary locus and headquarters of Comando Vermelho narcotrafficking activity (Matiolli 2014; Perlman 2011; Leeds 1996). The community was the target of several high profile police invasions and executions in the 2000s (Alves & Evanson 2011).68 The complex has become so notorious in popular discourse that it is often called the “faixa de Gaza carioca” (the Gaza Strip of Rio de Janeiro) (Perlman 2011:105).   But this violence would not spell the end of urbanization activities in Complexo. Rodrigues (2016) argues that narcotraffic concerns have shifted favela policy from service provision to public security, particularly at the state level, while Cavalcanti (2009) argues that the politics of cocaine has paradoxically increased the visibility and justification for the politics of concrete. Indeed, former Brazilian President Lula operated at the intersection of the politics of concrete and cocaine when he introduced the largest PAC project in Complexo. After Lula traveled to Medellin, Colombia, and witnessed the success of a gondola system at integrating narcotraffic-controlled communities into the “formal urban fabric” of that city, he decided to 																																																								68 In June of 2007, after an unsuccessful citywide operation called Operação Cerco Amplo (Operation Wide Net), the military police and BOPE, alongside national armed forces, used large-scale military siege tactics to try to take the Complexo territory from drug traffickers (Alves & Evanson 2011; Perlman 2011). The first day of the operation killed 22 people, none of whom had criminal records (Perlman 2011). Stray bullets would kill at least 19 children in the siege (Alves & Evanson 2011). See Chapter 4.3.2 for more. 	 86			emulate the project in this heretofore notorious region of Rio.69 Teleferico construction began in 2010 with the paving of roads to allow for large construction trucks to reach the tops of the favela hills. The teleferico was inaugurated in July of 2011 by then-president Dilma Rousseff.  While the teleferico was being built in November of 2010, Complexo do Alemão was again invaded by the BOPE, military police and armed forces in an occupation that “was heralded as a victory comparable to D-day in the media” (Cavalcanti 2014a:209). After two years of military occupation, multiple police pacification units (UPP) were officially installed in Complexo (Oliveira 2016), stationed generally at the tops of favelas hills directly adjacent to the new teleferico stations. Initially the pacification effort in Complexo was relatively calm, but shootouts have since become the norm. Unlike other favelas in Rio, where pacification has proceeded to the social programming stage, the UPP program in Complexo is characterized by repeated invasions by the special elite forces.70 Violent confrontations between the military police and narcotraffickers are increasingly a fact of everyday life. The spring of 2015 was particularly dangerous, when “we didn't have one day that didn't have any shooting (gunfire). Everyday of this year we had shootings in the community.”71 As of early 2017, popular discourse is beginning to call the UPP in Complexo a failure, questioning why it has not seen decreased rates of violence in the community.  Complexo do Alemão is thus an administrative unit, a socio-spatial imaginary, a community, and an object of intervention of both pacification and PAC projects. The territory has been socially constructed through discursive articulations and codifications, and through policies that target the community. Moreover, the community’s growth has always been the result of contestations between political and civil society. The state has been central to its development through promoting industry, locating favela-oriented agencies in its vicinity, and buying land for relocated populations of Zona Sul. The state has also provided different 																																																								69 Interview with EMOP official, Rio de Janeiro, March 2014  70 The UPP program and narcotraffic activity continue to be particularly violent in Complexo do Alemão, with the military police repeatedly calling on the military and BOPE (Special Elite Forces) to invade the territory.  71 Interview with Complexo activist 6, March 2015 	 87			forms of services, resources, and infrastructure throughout the region’s growth. Yet much of this growth and development has been the result of favela residents themselves mobilizing with, and sometimes against, the government for resources. From the state harnessing the labour power of residents through Mutirão, to resident associations fighting for service provision, Complexo do Alemão has always been a contested relation between a variety of actors, with residents themselves central to these contestations.  3.5 Towards the present  My purpose in this chapter has been to turn a conjunctural lens on the development of urbanization and public security policies in Rio de Janiero, Brazil. I have highlighted several key components of the conjunctural approach outlined last chapter. I have focused on how these projects are historically determined, as they are a function of elite players in the government apparatus and factions of capital, such as large construction conglomerates. But citizens, too, have been crucial to the shaping of these policies, as insurgent subjects have organized social movements for a Right to the City, elected governments according to the public security concerns of the moment, and organized favela federations and associations to pressure the government for service provision. I have also documented, albeit necessarily superficially, PAC and the PT as the product of space-time flows of capital. PAC, specifically, is a neodevelopmentalist solution to a global financial crisis, and leverages and entrenches its own financial capital markets (often along historically-entrenched patrimonial channels) for income generation and infrastructural development. The above discussion has also hinted at other flows of policy and imaginaries, such as Lula wielding designs from Medellin where a teleferico has united a so-called “narco-controlled” territory with the rest of the city, and flows of public security policies, architects, and bank officials across transnational space.72 Favelas here are territorializations of these relations and negotiations between myriad actors and forces operating at multiple scales. This understanding of favelas is necessary for the ideas I develop throughout the dissertation.  																																																								72 It would take a whole dissertation project in its own right to document these flows, so I have just hinted at them here because they are relevant, but not central, to the arguments I develop in this dissertation			 88			I have also presented Complexo do Alemão, specifically, as a community that has come into being through historically-embedded state, civil society, and economic forces. I have ended by pointing to Complexo as an object of intervention targeted by both PAC and public security. These projects currently exist in uneasy relation with one another in this complex of favelas. Infrastructural development (PAC) and public security (pacification) projects do not just sit side by side one another atop favela hills, but their market-generation and securitization logics are articulated in complex and ever shifting fashion. I discuss the deep historical relationships between PAC and pacification at greater length in the following chapter. In it, I pay particular attention to the articulations of different racialized and marketization regimes that have developed throughout Brazilian history and continue to inform the state’s relationships with Rio’s low-income and darker-skinned favela populations.   	 89			3.6 Figures for Chapter 3                                           Figure 3.1 Teleferico information sign. Photo taken 25 Jan 2014 by author. Figure 3.2 Teleferico display of Rio de Janeiro’s urbanization history. Photo taken 25 Jan 2014 by author. Figure 3.3 View of old Coca Cola factory from teleferico. Photo taken 24 March 2015 by author.  Figure 3.4 PAC construction in Complexo. Photo taken 21 Apr 2014 by author. 	 90			Chapter 4: PACification as the Coloniality of Power    Eu só quero é ser feliz e andar tranqüilamente a favela onde eu nasci  I only want to be happy and walk peacefully in the favela where I was born  -lyrics from the song “Eu Só Quero É Ser Feliz” by Cidinho and Doca (1994)  The young, largely Afro-Brazilian protestors sang out the words of this popular anti-violence favela anthem as police shots and stun grenades banged, just feet away from where my colleague and I stood. We were sent running up the steep and narrow streets of Complexo do Alemão, encountering units of heavily armed military police with their assault rifles trained on all passersby. It took us one hour to make the normally ten minute trek to the top of the hill, as we were forced to join the crowds of people darting for cover into shops each time gun fire erupted.73 When we finally reached the top of the hill, my friend took a terrifying ride on the teleferico to reach her bus; her gondola car hung from cables as shots fired into the air around her. The teleferico service was suspended only minutes later due to “safety concerns.” In the following days, the special elite force of Rio’s state government would re-occupy Complexo do Alemão, and the fighting between the military police and drug traffickers would become increasingly lethal (Fig 4.1).   																																																								73 Shootouts forced me to repeatedly grapple with my positionality. A couple of months into my stay in Complexo, a big shootout on Alvorada (our hill) ignited a nearby electricity transformer. Our lights were out, as were those of our neighbours, as we listened to the gunfights one hundred metres below us. Eddu began to pack a bag, urging all of us to join, saying we should leave and head to his other house in Zona Oueste. At first I was reluctant; how could I take advantage of my privileged mobility like that, when I was here to understand the day-to-day livelihoods of people living under state violence? Eddu looked at me like I was ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t you leave if you could?” he asked. “Most people here don’t have anywhere else to go, or they would, too.” I dug my heels in for a few minutes, unsure what to do. Then Eddu turned to me again, trying to figure out how to communicate his greater fear. He explained that if anything were to happen to me – a young white woman from Canada – the military police would crack down with even greater strength on Complexo do Alemão, bringing more casualties and death. If I thought what I was seeing right now was bad, my death would only bring much worse. I decided to leave with Eddu.  	 91			The protest had been organized by a number of local community groups and collectives in Complexo do Alemão in March of 2014. We were protesting the previous-day arrest and seizure of two young boys, Kleyton da Rocha Afonso and Hallan Marcilio Gonçalves.74 Hundreds of people, many of them young black mototaxi drivers, occupied the middle of the busy street at the base of the hills of Complexo in an area called Grota. When the military police (PM) began unleashing stun grenades and bullets (rubber and otherwise), the mototaxi drivers dropped their bikes and went running. As the smoke slowly dissipated, we could see the PMs lining up the bikes, writing down plate numbers as they handed the keys back to drivers. After the protest, according to reports sweeping Facebook, the civil police were searching plate-by-plate for all the bikes at the demonstration. Numerous activists chimed in online, calling the police seizure of the bikes a criminalization of protest activity and obstruction of waged employment. These activists simultaneously accused the media and the state of being racist, by assuming all dark-skinned favela inhabitants to be traffickers, and called the state “genocidal,” by targeting young black men through military operations (see Madeiros 2014, Alves 2007; see Fig 2.8).   Violent encounters do not just occur periodically (at moments of protest, for instance) but have become a part of the everyday fabric of life in Complexo do Alemão. Military police, narcotraffickers, and residents alike are being killed in this community. Many are killed by what the police apparatus calls “balas perdidas,” or lost bullets, to designate stray gunfire that kills bystanders in the streets and residents in their homes. However, not everyone is at the same risk of being killed by balas perdidas. It is predominantly young black men who get struck by these bullets that are “lost” from the rifles of the military police. Indeed, in Rio de Janeiro, police kill black youth at rates disproportionate to non-black populations. Human Rights Watch found that, in the last decade, the military police in Rio de Janeiro state have killed 8000 people, most of them young black men from favelas. The police in Rio killed 645 people in 2015, and this rate increased in the lead-up to the 2016 Olympic Games (Acebes 2016).75 More than 75% of these victims were black youth and few of these killing are ever 																																																								74 See Livingstone (2014) for a Rio on Watch report about this protest.  75 Human Rights Watch has recently released a report on violence and extrajudicial killings in Rio de Janeiro (see Acebes 2016). 	 92			prosecuted (Anistia Internacional 2016).76 Military police officers often attribute street fatalities to “resistance followed by death,” which, though not an official legal category, “is accepted in the judicial process” (Telles 2010:118; Telles 2015; Vargas 2013). According to the state’s attorney general, Marfan Martins Vieira, the police often “simulate” crime scenes by planting drugs on a corpse or placing a gun in a victim’s hand (Acebes 2016).   The military police who violently dispersed the aforementioned protestors and mototaxi drivers, and who repeatedly kill young black men, are in Complexo do Alemão and other favela communities as part of the UPP program, or pacification effort, which has as its purpose the “return” of the territory to the state (see Chapter 3.3). Part of this “return” is to project the idea of safety to potential international investors, and to extend the formal market into Complexo. Indeed, the final stage of the UPP project was initially called UPP Social (which now operates under municipal jurisdiction as Rio Mais Social, or Rio+Social), with a goal of “productive inclusion through training and entrepreneurship” (Governo RJ Nd), and which extends microcredit financed via the UPP Entrepreneur Fund. Pacification, here, operates alongside PAC projects, with UPP units securitizing territory for PAC infrastructural upgrades, and with PAC, too, focused on stimulating entrepreneurship and generating employment amongst its target favela populations. Thus, both PAC and pacification are intended to protect and promote entrepreneurs, workers, families, and citizens of Complexo, and to “integrate” the community with the so-called formal city.77 Both PAC and the UPP, too, are attempting to extend microcredit and mortgages, and enroll people in formalized employment and regularize their property (I elaborate on these project impulses in Chapter 6). They are aimed at securitizing the national economy in times of economic crises and securitizing Rio for international investment (see Chapter 3.3). Both thus have marketization and consumption impulses, but operate through the policing, and often killing, of low income and racialized populations living in Rio’s favelas.    																																																								76 See Anistia Internacional (2016) (Amnesty International) for more details and for a description of their recent campaign called Jovem Negro Vivo (Black Youth Live).  77 Dilma repeatedly refers to Complexo residents as “citizens” in her teleferico inauguration speech (see Rousseff 2011). See Chapter 6 for a fuller account of the “integration” rhetoric used by both Rio Mais Social and PAC-Urbanization. 	 93			In this chapter, I historically trace violent racial and accumulation logics in Brazil. Following Laura Pulido, I want to understand how “the devaluation of Black (and other nonwhite bodies) has been a central feature of global capitalism…and creates a landscape of differential value which can be harnessed in diverse ways to facilitate the accumulation of more power and profit than would otherwise be possible” (Pulido 2016:1; see also Buckley 2014; Derickson 2015). My purpose is thus to understand how interrelated processes of public security, investment, consumption, and formalization are premised on, and reproduce, racialized geographies in Brazil.   I argue that the current moment of pacification and PAC has created an articulated public security and marketization complex called PACification. This state-led project is premised on, and reproduces, racialized and devalued landscapes that have been built over centuries of colonization. The complex has specific continuities with the processes of racialization and development fomented through the conquest of the Americas, and with military strategies deployed during the years of Brazil’s military dictatorship. I explore how PACification is a conjuncturally-specific territorialization of the coloniality of power in Rio’s favelas. PACification, here, articulates three central components: marketization (creating new formal markets through attracting investment, formalizing labour, and building infrastructure); the discursive articulations of internal enemies (relying on the constitution of racialized, threatening peoples to legitimate its practices); and a militarized public security regime that often operates through a grammar of war (deploying militarized violence to manage social difference for capital accumulation ends). This coloniality of power draws upon, and reproduces, favelas as low-income, racialized territories in which both “innocent” and “guilty” can be selectively killed by a state that is seeking to preserve itself and accumulate capital.   In making this argument, I draw on key components of the conjunctural analytic outlined in Chapter 2. I take seriously historical determination as inspired by modernity/coloniality scholars. In particular, I am interested in how histories of colonization in the so-called New World have informed contemporary race/labour relationships in Brazil. I also draw explicitly on the dual notion of articulation. First, I explore how different forms of race, labour, and 	 94			investment have been brought together, or conjoined, in transforming manner throughout Brazil’s history and pre-history. Second, I take seriously articulation as enunciation. I discuss how a key component of the coloniality of power during both the military dictatorship and contemporary PACification is the discursive constitution of internal enemies, such that the state is legitimated in killing for accumulation and market formalization.   Before moving into the body of the chapter, it is useful to address my specific thinking with respect to race and coloniality. I have been trained in critical race theory from a situated position – one steeped in North American approaches to race as it has been codified as a racial formation (as per Omi and Winant) underpinned by notions of racial difference, segregation, and exclusion (da Silva 1998). Exposed to decolonial thought in the Canadian settler colony, I have also understood race partly through the lens of colonization and ongoing forms of colonialism/coloniality. Yet, living in Canada, I have also been influenced by popular imaginaries of Brazil as a racial democracy, and, like many Canadians, had very little knowledge of the history of slavery and ongoing forms of racialization shaped in, and re-shaped by, this nation. Similarly, most of the Brazilian urban scholarship I was familiar with prioritized class and citizenship, rather than race, when conceiving of inequality and social injustice. What I confronted in Brazil was very different than this socio-spatial imaginary of a racial democracy. Race, and the racialization of favela space, specifically, appeared to me (as it does to many Complexo activists) as a key social formation that has allowed the state to kill people with impunity in Rio’s favelas. This chapter is thus, in part, the result of my grappling with race and the history of colonization in Brazil. As such, it focuses on the longue durée	of racialization processes, tracing ongoing (yet always transforming) modes of racial subjugation. This longue durée focus may leave depth of the current conjuncture wanting. Yet it is written for a North American and North Atlantic audience largely unaware of this history of race, and informed by the modernity/coloniality school that privileges deep historical continuities in its analyses.   In addition to being influenced by North American and decolonial scholars of race, some of my concerns in this chapter resonate, at moments, with two different ways of thinking about race that have been developed in Brazil or by Brazilians. The first, the Carioca school, 	 95			recognizes ongoing historical forms of structural racism that are not reducible to class processes (da Silva 2004).78 The Carioca school interrogates miscegenation and racial democracy as repressive ideologies that have inhibited the formation of a critical race consciousness (da Silva 1998, 2004; see, for instance, Vargas 2004; Alves & Vargas 2017). Some of my thinking in this chapter is consistent with this way of understanding race, as I think historically and structurally about ongoing forms of racial subjugation.79 I also, second, draw on conceptualizations of race in Brazil (and beyond) that depart from the idea of miscegenation as a false ideology. Instead, as elaborated by Denise Ferreira da Silva, race and racial thinking are productive strategies and subjectivization processes: racial subjects are produced in the modern episteme through intersecting narratives of class, race, gender, and the nation (see, for instance, da Silva 1998, 2001, 2004). As da Silva notes, “in Brazil as elsewhere, race is a productive symbolic device, a principle that governs modern social configurations when it produces social subjects that [are] differentially placed in their economic, juridical, and moral dimensions” (da Silva 2004:730). As such, miscegenation is a national script that writes race differently than in the United States, but is also shaped by the placing of racial subjects (here, black and mestiço) outside universal law and justice. Some of my key arguments in this chapter share commonalities (albeit not exhaustively or systematically) with both conceptualizations; I think of race as both a historical and structural ordering of society, and as a “productive symbolic device” that make groups of people, following Gilmore (2002), more susceptible to premature death.  The chapter proceeds as follows. In the next section I introduce the concept of the coloniality of power as conjuncturally-specific articulations of profit generation, wealth appropriation, and race. In the following section I detail different moments of the coloniality of power in Brazilian history, paying attention to how racial and other social differences have been (re)produced and violently managed for, among other things, capital accumulation and wealth generation purposes. I then focus specifically on the transformation of pacification of 																																																								78 The Carioca school is a response to the earlier Paulista school, the latter which conceives of racial discrimination as a “premodern” mode of social organizing that continues as a holdover from slavery (da Silva 2004). This way of conceiving race, informed by modernization theory, holds that racial subjugation will disappear as the nation modernizes and class becomes the primary mode of social differentiation.  79 A key difference, though, is that these theorizations do not tend to use the framework of the “coloniality of power,” and thus often have a shorter (and more in-depth) conjunctural focus. 	 96			the military dictatorship to PACification of the current conjuncture, discussing their respective articulations of public security, marketization, and internal enemies.   4.1 (Re)producing Race and Social Difference through the Coloniality of Power  The conquest of the so-called New World instituted what Peruvian philosopher Anibal Quijano (2008) calls the “coloniality of power.” This concept, following Marion Werner (2011:1576), captures “the articulation of hierarchical forms of social difference with wage and non-wage forms of labour control.” The coloniality of power is defined by intertwined race and labour regimes that emerged historically and geographically:  The codification of the differences between conquerors and conquered [manifest] in the idea of “race,” as supposedly different biological structure that placed some in a natural situation of inferiority to the others. The conquistadors assumed this idea as the constitutive, founding element of the relations of domination that the conquest imposed…The other process [shaping the coloniality of power] was the constitution of a new structure of control of labor and its resources and slavery, serfdom, small independent commodity production and reciprocity, together around and upon the basis of capital and the world market. (Quijano 2008:243-4)  Because racial thinking and highly exploitative labor relations still underpin capitalist relations today, the “conquest” of indios – and the racial thinking and labour regimes the “conquerers” introduced/violently negotiated in these colonies – remains central to the contemporary world system (Quijano 2008; see also Werner 2011; Wynter 2003; Mignolo 2000). 80 Yet these labourers have also, recently, become key consumers and sites of consumption in the contemporary global political economic landscape.  Race, here, can be understood as an abstract concept, first negotiated through these colonial encounters in what would later become Brazil and Latin America, that orders humanity and 																																																								80 Many decolonial scholars of Latin America argue that the first racial thinking was fomented through the colonization of the Americas during the long sixteenth century. It was here that Europeans grappled with Indigenous people’s “rights” and “humanity.” According to scholars such as Mignolo and Wynter, this grappling became the foundation of racial thinking and difference. Racial difference as a questioning of the human was constituted at this time and place of conquest, and was consolidated through the emerging transatlantic slave trade (Wynter 2003; Maldonado-Torres 2007).   	 97			the valuation of life, but takes on a specific formation (Omi & Winant 2014) or assemblage (Weheliye 2014) in different parts of the world. In other words, following Stuart Hall (1996), race is a midlevel construct that materializes in conjuncturally-specific ways – as a product of the histories and geographies of different places. Race must be located, and located interactions have always been productive of race. The coloniality of power draws attention to how these conjuncturally-specific racializations become useful to, and transformed through, new political economic relations.  A main institution that reproduces the coloniality of power is the state. Raciality, specifically, was at the heart of the formation of the modern state as it was developed through Spain and Portugal’s colonization of the so-called New World (Silverblatt 2004).81 Newly forming colonial states partook in “bureaucratic rule” (Silverblatt 2004:18), a hallmark of the modern state, and created abstract and corporate categories of European/Spanish, Indian, and Negro – each with specific rights and obligations – in order to culturally protect and securitize the growing Iberian empire. These categories continue to haunt the practices of the state in the contemporary period. As Denise Ferreira da Silva (2009) notes, at present the modern state exercises legitimate violence to preserve itself and its populations from the violence now assumed to be inherent to these racialized categories. Racialized categorical distinctions construct less-than-human “enemies” who exist, in post-Enlightenment formulations, outside rational, European man, and can be killed for the greater good of the state and its population (da Silva 2009).   The state is also legitimated through its ability to foster capital accumulation and (re)productive growth (Federici 2004). It thus can also exercise “legitimate violence” against racialized populations for economic ends. Capitalism “is necessarily committed to racism and sexism” for accumulation, and “to justify and mystify the contradictions built into its social relations” (Federici, 2004:17). Racialized hierarchies are continuously reworked through capitalist accumulation, as the state and other elite actors “redraw…the social and spatial boundaries between hyper-exploited wage work and the people and places cast out 																																																								81 Irene Silverblatt (2004) develops this argument through analyzing the practices of the Spanish Inquisition that began at the end of the 15th century. She argues that the Inquisition was, in fact, a modern bureaucracy that was formed to protect cultural security and, through so doing, instituted racial designs and categorizations. 	 98			from its relations” (McIntyre & Nast 2011:1465; see also Werner 2011).82 The state, responsible for economic growth and the (re)production of its population, is thus invested in creating and reproducing axes of social difference (Federici 2004; see also Gilmore 2002). Taking the production of social difference seriously in this way demonstrates that the “biopolitical,” or life-giving, social-reproductive apparatus of the state, is always-already “necropolitical,” life-destroying:  We can also see that the promotion of population growth by the state can go hand in hand with a massive destruction of life; for in many historical circumstances – witness the history of the slave trade – one is a condition for the other. Indeed, in a system where life is subordinated to the production of profit, the accumulation of labor-power can only be achieved with the maximum of violence so that, in Maria Mies’ words, violence itself becomes the most productive force. (Federici 2004:16)  State violence, in other words, is central to capital accumulation and to the (re)production of racial, gender, and other axes of social difference, and thus to the coloniality of power.   “The state,” as described throughout this dissertation, is a contested entity comprised of many different institutions and negotiated amongst diverse actors. It is porous, heterogeneous, and contradictory. When I use the term “state” in this chapter, I refer primarily to these raisons d’etre of the modern state formation that manifest through particular institutions. The logic to preserve the state (and its capital accumulation efforts) is quite viscerally manifest through the military police apparatus in the current from of the UPP program. This state institution often contradicts other government-led logics and projects (see Chapter 6.6) yet operates with considerable force to violently shape the daily lives of Complexo and other favela residents. Moreover, by drawing on the Gramscian notion of the integral state I developed in Chapter 2, I am able to interrogate how elite political actors (who are not formally a part of the government apparatus, such as the media) also have 																																																								82 Here, the coloniality of power involves a “casting out” of not only ownership over the means of (re)production, but also a category of being human (Man2) (Wynter & McKittrick 2015), enacted through racialized assemblages of, inter alia, institutions, discourses, images, and architectures (Weheliye 2014). This casting out becomes useful for, but not reducible to, capitalist hyperexploitation. Inherent to this notion of race (as one axis of coloniality of power) is that if capitalism were to be transformed, processes of racialization would not disappear, although they would likely shift, and racialized differences would likely be enacted in new (and always violent) regimes of power and accumulation. 	 99			considerable agency and power in shaping racialization processes and regimes of accumulation.  4.2 Articulations of Race and Accumulation in Brazil  There have been different articulations of accumulation regimes and racialization processes in Brazil since the territory’s so-called discovery to the contemporary conjuncture. In this section I briefly describe key moments in the history of the coloniality of power in Brazil. This is not a thorough genealogy, which would be a dissertation project in its own right. Rather, in this section my purpose is to show how slave labour was central to early economies in Brazil, and how, post slavery, race and class intersections have become spatialized in Rio’s favelas.   The conquest of the Americas marks the first period of coloniality, initiating racialization as a process of questioning humanity, or what Maldonado-Torres (2007) calls misanthropic skepticism (see also Mignolo 2000; Quijano 2008).83 Prior to their landing in the “New World,” though, the Portuguese had already instituted a slave-trading system in 1441 out of Senegal/West Africa in order to bolster its mercantile networks. The proceeds of this system financed Columbus’s voyage across the ocean, and proved foundational for the future transatlantic slave trade (Wynter 2012). Columbus’s “discovery” of the Americas introduced a period of more than three hundred years of Iberian colonial rule over what would later become Latin America, with the Portuguese, specifically, colonizing the antecedent of the republic of Brazil. The regime of accumulation that emerged in the New World is termed a mercantile strategy of extraction focused on “large-scale agricultural and mining operations powered by slave labour” (Holston 2009:116). From 1500-1600 this slave labour was predominantly Indigenous. However, with the dramatic decreases in Indigenous populations due to wars and disease – and with the declaration that indigenous peoples were vassals of the king and hence could not be enslaved (Mignolo 2000) – the Portuguese became major 																																																								83 Misanthropic skepticism refers to the questioning of the human. Following Nelson Maldonado-Torres (2007), “contact” between indios and European explorers involved the latter questioning the very humanity of the former. Instead of asking “what type of human are you?” the question became “are you even human?” instituting a misanthropic skepticism that continues to underpin racialized ontologies and racialization processes today.  	 100			stakeholders in the transatlantic slave trade. Thus, from the early 17th century until 1888, African slaves were the disposable labour force that bolstered Portuguese and Brazilian extraction and plantation economies – characterized largely by feudal-like relationships (Holston 2009; Wynter 2003). Over these years, Brazil would import almost 5 million slaves, more than ten times the number that went to the United States. As previously stated, in 1888, it would be the last Western country to officially abolish slavery (Fig 4.2 & 4.3).  The social structure that underpinned the mercantile and feudal-like plantation economies was a triadic relationship between Portuguese/Spanish settlers, Indigenous peoples, and enslaved Africans (Wynter 2012; see also Tuck & Yang 2012).84 In this system, Africans were the killable labour, although Indigenous peoples were also being exterminated through war, disease, and policies of miscegenation that sought to decrease the indios gene pool. Indios may not have been legally enslaved but they continued to be labour coerced through various legal mechanisms.  Portugal’s form of colonialism was specific, of course, and many scholars argue that this specificity was central to the development of Brazil’s contemporary racial formation. For instance, some scholars attempt to account for Brazil’s contemporary ideology of race-mixing, or miscegenation, by arguing that there was significant fluidity between different 																																																								84 Walter Mignolo (2000) argues that the first period of modernity was characterized by a notion of race based on the Catholic Church’s religious “purity of blood” principle. Early debates among Iberian explorers centred on whether or not Amerindians had souls and, thus, what rights they should be granted – they were concerned with a “rights of the people” principle, in which Amerindians were questioned for their humanity. Pope Paul III eventually determined that Amerindians had souls and were “vassals of the king,” and therefore they could not be enslaved, unlike African slaves who were deemed “commerce” (the so-called Sublimis Deus edict). With the declaration of Indigenous peoples as vassals of the king, Africans became the “legitimate” slaves and would thus “come to embody the new symbolic construct of Race or of innately determined difference that would enable the Spanish state to legitimate its sovereignty over the lands of the Americas in the postreligious legal terms of Western Europe’s now-expanding state system” (Wynter 2012:11). Silverblatt argues, alternatively, that racial categories emerged through the Spanish Inquisition and other state-making practices in which people living in the New World were juridically divided into distinct castes based on presumed ancestry. These included categories or corporate groups of Spanish (españoles), Indian (indios) and blacks (negroes), defined legally or socially rather than biologically. Racial doctrines of the 19th century – grounded in notions of inherent biological difference – were founded on these “preliberal” caste categories. Silverblatt continues: “race and caste were not separate systems, but interpenetrating. Race thinking helps us understand how race and caste might, chameleonlike, slip in and out of each other, how a relatively innocent category (like color) could become virulent, how politically defined differences (like nationality) could so easily become inheritable traits” (Silverblatt 2004:17).  	 101			races during colonialism and slavery.85 Boaventura de Sousa Santos (2002) argues that because Portuguese colonizers were some of the first in the so-called Americas, categories of labor and race were negotiated, sometimes for the first time, in these colonies, but were also re-produced and transformed at different moments as new colonizers came to exercise power in the world system.86 Following this line of thought, Portuguese colonialism thus created ambiguous divisions between the colonized and the colonizers in Brazil (see also Cesarino 2012). De Sousa Santos (2002) calls these categories “semicolonizers” and “semicolonized.” Both, he says, have existed in Brazil in a contingent, expansive, assemblage of people whose social (and thus racial) positions change according to which actors are involved in any particular encounter. As such, according to de Sousa Santos, there is more fluidity of racial identity in Brazil and thus miscegenation is Brazil’s dominant racial ideology. Also attempting to account for 20th century ideologies of miscegenation, some theorists in Brazil argue that early race mixing was a function of Portugal’s less harsh form of slavery (see, for example, Gilberto Freyre 1946).87 But critical race theorist Abdias do Nascimento (1989), among many others, maintains that while miscegenation was common amongst Portuguese slave holders, this “race mixing” during slavery was violent rape.88  																																																								85 Brazil is often associated with the racial ideology of “miscegenation.” According to Edward Telles: “Rather than segregation [in the United States], race mixture or miscegenation (in Portuguese, mestiçagem or miscigenação) forms the foundational concept of Brazilian racial ideology. Race mixture represents a set of beliefs that Brazilians hold about race, including the belief that Brazilians have long mixed across racial lines, more so than in any other society, and that nonwhites are included in the Brazilian nation” (Telles 2004:4).  86 De Sousa Santos (2002) argues that Portugal has always been at the “periphery” of the world system and in a position subordinate to England, Spain, and the Dutch, even though it has been a colonizer. Yet Portugal’s and Brazil’s dominance in the transatlantic slave trade somewhat problermatizes this notion.  87 Gilberto Freyre was a foundational scholar of race in Brazil, and was one of the first to speak positively of racial mixing with respect to slavery. In his highly influential text, The Masters and Slaves, published in 1946, Freyre argued that the particular forms of Portuguese colonialism, sugar and coffee plantation economies, and slave relations in Brazil manifested in the propensity for different “races” to procreate with impunity. He celebrated Brazil because, “The absence of violent rancors due to race constitutes one of the peculiarities of the feudal system in the tropics, a system that, in a manner of speaking, had been softened by the hot climate and by the effects of a miscegenation that tended to dissolve such prejudices” (Freyre 1946:xii).  88 Afro-Brazilian political activist and theorist Abdias do Nascimento argues: “The interbreeding of white masters with African women, far from being a result of absence of race prejudice, can be explained at least in part as an outcome of the nature of the colonial situation. The difference was that the Portuguese had come to the New World to make a fortune and return to Europe. They left their women home. English settlers had come to stay, so they brought their wives with them. The use of African women to satisfy slaveowners in the absence of white women was outright rape. It had nothing to do with ‘respect’ for the victims as human beings” (Abdias do Nascimento 1989:63). He continues, “The process of sexual exploitation of Black women resulted in simple genocide. With the growth of the mulatto population, the Black race began to disappear. This development was 	 102			 Local elites in Brazil wished to maintain slavery and the plantation economy. The planter class, specifically, led the country’s independence from Portugal in 1822 “primarily to institute free trade to benefit [them, and]…to maintain the existing social structure and its regime of slavery” (Holston 2009:124) and to allow continued “free appropriation of crown land” (Holston 2009:125).89 However, by the 1850s international sentiment regarding slavery was shifting, and the Brazilian elites were increasingly aware that the slave trade would not continue for long. As a result, the planter class, through the Imperial and soon to be Republican state, attempted to attract new labour to participate in the coffee plantation economy through promoting the migration of white Europeans (Holston 2009; Skidmore 1993; Nascimento 1989).90 To prevent the new migrants from occupying “unused” Brazilian land (wanting, instead, to direct new labour to the plantations), the state introduced measures in 1850 to commoditize property and outlaw squatting.91 Despite the state’s attempts to attract new migrants to the plantations in an increasingly “quasi-capitalist,” dependent regime of accumulation (Huggins 1984), within a few years most new arrivals would find their way to the peripheries of coastal cities such as Rio de Janeiro, attracted by the promises of industrialization (Holston 2009; see also Chapter 3.1). The criminalization of squatting also, crucially, affected the thousands of poor Brazilians, often of Indigenous or African ancestry, who already lived on land that was “informal” or not legally recognized through 																																																																																																																																																																											turned into an explicit and intentional policy of the governing strata.” (1989:65). Unsurprisingly, Nascimento’s arguments about the harsh reality of Portuguese and Brazilian slavery have not been popular in Brazil; Freyre’s celebration of miscegenation (and a less harsh form of slavery than practiced in the US) has proven significantly more influential and, indeed, productive of Brazil’s miscegenation narrative. It is also important to point out that Nascimento’s arguments may naturalize the behavior of men, without accounting for how African women’s bodies were naturalized as the possessions of these European men.  89 This is often called the Imperial period in Brazilian history.  90 A “whitening ideal” has indeed informed Brazil’s race relations and continues to influence the practice and performance of race relations – both social and economic – today. This whitening ideal manifests in a desire at the state and the individual level to become whiter. There exists a long genealogy of whitening ideology in Brazil (Skidmore 1993; Nascimento 1989). Thomas Skidmore argues that political debates of the 19th and 20th centuries with respect to immigration, education, and marriage were all predicated upon the idea that Brazil was getting whiter, and that this is the direction in which it should continue, although traits of other races could help improve whiteness (Skidmore 1993).  91 Until this point, the state and other elites had accepted and, in some cases, cultivated squatting, a practice it would continue when beneficial for political and capital accrual (Holston 2009; Fischer 2008; McCann 2014a). See Chapters 3.1 & 3.4.1 for more.  	 103			property rights (Holston 2009; see also Fischer 2008). The imposition of new regimes of land tenure was thus central to impoverishment. Racialized and impoverished Brazilians were thus also forced to the peripheries of growing urban centres, as many people lost the means of subsistence that slavery sometimes offered,92 lost the ability to squat land, and lost rural jobs due to increased mechanization of agricultural production (Huggins 1984). Afro-Brazilians, specifically, formed a low-waged labour force for the industrial-led development of cities such as Rio de Janeiro.  Due, in part, to these historical processes, race has become spatialized in Rio’s favelas. The first favelas in Rio were founded by soldiers of the Canudos war and by slaves freed after abolition in 1888 – most of these were darker skinned people directly from Africa or of African ancestry (Leeds 1996; Fischer 2008; see Chapter 3.1.1). Present day migration from Brazil’s Northeast (due to expropriated lands for mechanized agricultural production – another change in land tenure regimes) continues this trend of Afro-Brazilians moving to Rio’s hillsides. These racialized people are also, generally, exploitable labour who do not control the means of production because they have been pushed off “their” land. In other words, class intersects with race in Brazil, generally, and in Rio’s favelas, specifically.93 While Rio’s favelas are today racially and economically heterogeneous (Perlman 2011), there is a disproportionate number of black and mixed-race people who live in these territories: almost all of Rio’s black population live in favelas, even if only 50% of people in these territories self-identify as phenotypically black (see Perlman 2004; Nascimento 1989). As such, when processes of de-industrialization hit Rio de Janeiro, it was Afro-Brazilian industrial workers, often living in favela territories, who suffered disproportionately.  Yet favelas do not just have an over-representation of racialized peoples living in them; they have also become racialized spaces in their own right. They are racialized territories because a disproportionate number of people who live in them – specifically Afro-Brazilians – are not 																																																								92 I do not mean to indicate that slavery was a positive experience – it was brutal even if plantations sometimes offered small plots of land for slaves’ small-scale crop farming. Rather my point is to indicate that the end of slavery had migratory impacts.  93 Since slavery, people of African ancestry have been disproportionately impoverished in Brazil – they have much lower socioeconomic mobility than lighter skinned people, are overrepresented in low-paid industrial and domestic work, and have faced decades of employment and education discrimination (Perlman 2011). 	 104			recognized as people, as fully human (Wynter 2003). They have been hyperexploited and killed throughout Brazil’s history and pre-history and, following da Silva (2004), have been placed outside Universality in modern epistemological, juridical, and ethical regimes. Today, favelas have become spaces in which almost anyone – black or otherwise – can be killed with impunity for the survival of the state and its capital accumulation logics. In the next section I detail how this contemporary situation – and the techniques and technologies deployed by the police – has been influenced by practices of Brazil’s military dictatorship, specifically.   4.3 Articulations of Public Security and Infrastructural Development in Brazil   People are presently being killed in Rio’s favelas as a function of PACification: the articulated projects of attracting international investment, market formalization, and public security that target these racialized spaces. Yet the UPP is not the first time that an official program of pacification has been implemented in Brazil. The articulation of public security and economic growth strategies was central to the military-industrial complex of the military dictatorship, which deployed its own form of pacification. In this section I discuss the two projects of pacification as conjuncturally-specific conjoinings, or articulations, of public security and economic development/marketization strategies. I then turn to the historical continuities and divergences across these periods, discussing how each is oriented around, inter alia, infrastructural development and the attraction of international investment through the discursive articulation, and militarized management, of enemies and threats to the nation.   4.3.1 Pacifying the National Territory  By the 1950s and 1960s in Brazil, working class movements were organizing to elect Brazil’s 24th president, João Belchior Marques Goulart. Goulart’s governance regime supported nationalist policies that threatened multinational investment (Alves 1985). Incensed members of the Brazilian clientele classes (which profited from multinational capital), alongside the Brazilian military and American CIA, developed a destabilization policy that toppled the Goulart regime on April 1, 1964. The coup instituted a military 	 105			dictatorship and a new clientelist class that Alves (1985) calls the civilian-military class alliance. They were guided by an ideology of national security  understood as a tool the ruling classes, associated with foreign capital, utilize to justify and legitimize the continuation, by nondemocratic means, of a highly exploitative model of dependent development. (Alves 1985:6)   This model of dependent development, unlike other military dictatorships in South America, espoused a state-centred form of capitalist development: it was based on Keynesian interventions into the economy made by a highly authoritarian regime. National security ideology was central to the functioning of the military dictatorship and this form of capitalist development. The Doctrine of National Security, crafted and espoused by the clientele classes, military and the American CIA, explicitly articulated economic development with internal security, coining the new program “security with development” (Alves 1985). At this moment, the “internal enemies” that compromised the regime’s security – and, according to the dictatorship, national security – were working class social movements and potential communist threats exercising guerilla revolutionary warfare (Alves 1985). Black leaders and Afro-Brazilian practices were also hyper-surveilled and criminalized in this context (Huggins 1984).   Economic development to the military dictatorship involved the “achievement of complete integration and complete national security” (Alves 1985:25). Widespread infrastructural development was central to the development/security nexus, aiming to “counteract the extreme vulnerability resulting from the country’s vast empty spaces” (Alves 1985:25). The authoritarian regime focused on building railroad infrastructure to “integrate” the national territory (Alves 1985; Aracri 2017), and legitimated development projects in places such as Amazonia (still home to many “unmiscegenated” Indigenous groups) through the rhetoric of civilization and colonization (Alves 1985). In addition to infrastructural development, a central component of this “development with security” economic policy was to create a business-friendly climate for multinational capital investment. At this conjuncture, the military government sought to bolster extractive industry, and thus the dictatorship unleashed 	 106			security forces to “pacify” areas for access to resources (Alves 1985).94 The government launched both explicit and clandestine military operations against rural peasants, the latter sometimes supported by guerilla groups, on lands of interest to new consortia formed by state-owned and multinational companies.95 These “pacification” projects, as the military government called them, killed over 45 rural trade union leaders and agents working with local peasants and Indigenous peoples. Alves has called this nexus of security and economic development – this pacification project of the military dictatorship – the military-industrial complex (1985:120).  The military dictatorship developed an apparatus of repression against those threats they characterized as “internal enemies.” These threats were generally, albeit not exclusively, articulated on ideological, as opposed to explicitly racial, grounds. They were worried about Brazilians in general adopting communist ideologies. To combat these threats, the government introduced legislation that allowed for death penalties, life imprisonment, and banishment for any “enemy within.” They also introduced a National Security Law that banned political assembly and opposition parties, and circumscribed press freedom (Alves 1985; Huggins 1984). In a move that proved to have remarkably enduring consequences, the military government imprisoned “political criminals” – these internal enemies – with “common bank robbers” in a particularly notorious prison on Ilha Grande, Rio de Janeiro. In this prison, the political prisoners taught the so-called common bank robbers the politics of collectivity, and (ironically) these new criminal collectives would become the first and most powerful narcotraffic factions in Rio de Janeiro (Leeds 1996; Arias 2006a; see Chapter 3.3 & 3.4). As Elizabeth Leeds notes, the Brazilian military government thus “Created a mechanism for violence by fusing common or civilian elements with political and military 																																																								94 Pacification was also an explicit policy in Southeast Asia at a similar moment. During the Vietnam War, for instance, South Vietnamese fighters, supported by the United States, developed, “an array of programs that sought to bring security, economic development, and local self-government to the rural regions of the Republic of Vietnam…Throughout the Vietnam War pacification, or ‘the other war,’ played an essential role in the conduct of the struggle” (Hunt 2011:869). Here, pacification was a means to extend control over the countryside and improve the lives of refugees and villagers through social services and infrastructural development, in part to dissuade support of the Viet Cong. Jim Glassman (2004) argues that pacification in Thailand, backed by the CIA, was a Western strategy that used psychological, infrastructural, communication, and economic development tactics to securitize the countryside against a communist threat.   95 A primary example of this type of consortium is the Superintendency of Amazon Development or SUDAM. 	 107			segments” and “inadvertently helped reshape violent criminal organization into its current form” (Leeds 1996:64).  The military regime also fundamentally influenced the practices of Rio de Janeiro’s Polícia Miltar (Military Police, or PM). The Portuguese Royal Family created Rio’s first police force in 1809 in the wake of the monarchy’s move to Rio de Janeiro and concern over slave rebellion after the Haitian Revolution (Ashcroft 2014).96 It continued to be a civilian force that, in 1969, was placed under the armed forces by the new military dictatorship (Leeds 1996), an act that “gave the PM a direct day-to-day role in public order and expanded its national security function” (Arias 2006a:35). The PM operated within anti-terrorism units and created so-called informal death squads where they honed torture skills. After the disbanding of the military dictatorship, the military police continued to use similar repressive tactics now as part of a newly coined “War on Crime” (Leeds 1996; Arias 2006a). The war on crime was focused not on potential communists in the national territory, but on narcotraffic factions in favelas where the PMs would continue using strategies of spectacular violence (Larkins 2013, 2015; Arias 2013).  The military dictatorship thus depended on threatening subjects or “internal enemies” for its particular form of dependent development: the military-industrial complex. These internal threats were not necessarily racialized as black or Indigenous. Rather, they were “ideological” threats (Alves 1985), those that threatened national/multinational capital – often but not necessarily of a communist nature. The military regime created discursive, legal, and militaristic mechanisms that sought to destroy these threats for the sake of its own perpetuation, that is, for the sake of the nation-state and its security – economic, political, and otherwise. These mechanisms were crucial to perpetuating and legitimating violence against various peoples – in this case, against communists and their associates. While not racialized in the ways that black and Indigenous peoples have been, the state killed and tortured so-called communists and guerillas for its own capital accumulation purposes. Importantly, these mechanisms also disproportionately displaced Indigenous peoples and 																																																								96 See also Martha Huggins (1984) for the continued targeting of Afro-Brazilians and their practices by this public security force after the end of slavery. 	 108			targeted leaders of the black movement. And, as Leeds alludes to above, the efforts of the military dictatorship would have key continuities with current racialized violence against narcotraffic factions: some of the actions and techniques of the military government would soon be articulated to, and transformed through, new strategies of accumulation and security in Rio’s favelas.   4.3.2 PACifying Rio’s Favelas  In reaction to international oil and debt crises, and as a response to the mobilization of working class, rural, and Black social movements, the authoritarian regime of the military dictatorship gradually “opened” (called the “abertura”) and the country was returned to full democracy with the Constitution of 1988. Under the “guidance” of international financial organizations, Brazil would also implement structural adjustment measures, which made more permeable the country’s borders to the transnational trade of goods. These measures helped foment the proliferation of the international drug trade – the movement of arms and cocaine from Peru, specifically – across Latin America (Arias 2006a; see also Leeds 1996). Rio became a major port of entry and exit for narcotraffic (Leeds 1996; Telles 2010; Alves & Evanson 2011), with the favelas in Zona Norte (close to the port and airport) serving as points of drug storage and distribution, and favelas in Zona Sul as key sites of the Brazilian consumer market (Arias 2006a). While it is difficult to know precisely who comprises the “shadowy upper levels of Rio narcotics dealing” (Arias 2006a:32), Desmond Arias points to evidence that the leaders of the factions operate primarily from within prisons, and that the drug and arms wholesalers are associated with the owners of Rio’s lottery-like numbers game, and likely have ties to the federal military and Brazilian Congress (Arias 2006a). The Civil Police in Rio, in particular, have been implicated in corruption and facilitating the movement of drugs and arms through Rio’s ports and favelas.  At the same time, neoliberal reforms exacerbated the exclusion of many impoverished and racialized Brazilians from the formal labour market. This process was spatialized: people living in favelas and other precarious settlements in Rio’s industrial Zona Norte were particularly hard hit. The narcotraffic factions that had formed on Ilha Grande during the 	 109			military dictatorship, such as Comando Vermelho, began to hire unemployed locals, often Afro-Brazilian youth, in Rio’s favelas (Arias 2006a, 2013; Leeds 1996; Zaluar 2010). These youth exist on the “lower rungs” of the trade, employed to do the dangerous work of moving and selling drugs (Zaluar 2010). As a result, favelas have become associated with narcotraffic criminality and are framed as sites of endemic violence (despite the fact that the vast majority of people residing in favelas and other precarious settlements have nothing to do with the trade). Thus, when the military police declared its War on Crime (the successor to the War on Communism; see Leeds 1996), the state institution specifically targeted favelas. Here, special armed forces in Brazil used the dictatorship-era tactics of siege and destroy, torture and execution, against black and brown low-income people of Rio’s favelas.  Alongside the war on narcotrafficking, new tactics of attracting international investment have targeted Rio’s favelas in the last decade. In 2006, Eduardo Paes of the PMDB was elected mayor of Rio de Janeiro, introducing a new municipal regime that was closely aligned with the federal PT party of Lula (Gomes & Burlamaqui 2016). Sérgio Cabral, a member of the state-level PMDB, was ele