In Rio's Favelas, Residents Build Their Own Answers to Gang Violence

Crime has emerged as the leading concern for Brazilians ahead of October's presidential election, with candidates competing to present the toughest and most effective response to a problem that runs deep. Sen. Flávio Bolsonaro, son of former President Jair Bolsonaro, is challenging President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and has promised to loosen organized crime's hold on the country, especially in Rio de Janeiro. Lula has argued for a larger federal role in combating organized crime and for better coordination among government institutions.

After Rio's deadliest police operation on record last year, in which more than 120 people were killed, polling suggested that the hard-line policies Sen. Bolsonaro advocates enjoy public support. Yet many residents, community leaders and experts contend that the prevailing approach — one that favors armed confrontations between police and criminal groups — is inefficient and frequently causes indiscriminate loss of life. In response, people in Rio have been designing their own initiatives to bridge that gap.

Once a week, a group of former drug traffickers gathers in a small recording studio on the outskirts of Rio to examine their past lives in crime and those of their guests. Their podcast, 01 Sobreviventes, or 01 Survivors, airs on YouTube and streaming platforms. A painting of the four founders hangs on the wall, while the show's logo — a microphone breaking a chain — is projected above the desk.

"We want to propagate the idea that crime isn't worth it," said host Fábio Santos, a 56-year-old former trafficker from the Manguinhos favela who spent 25 years in prison. "We want them to follow our current lives so that they don't go through what we went through," he added after recording a recent interview with a former gang member who is now a pastor. Launched in 2024 and followed by more than 225,000 people on Instagram, the podcast speaks both to those tempted by quick money and to those who need convincing to change course. Crime leads to prison, a wheelchair or a coffin, the hosts say repeatedly. Santos says several people have told him they have seen traffickers listening to the podcast, and he regularly hears of people who left crime or never entered it because of their work.

Alan Duarte, 38, grew up in Complexo do Alemão, one of the two sprawling favela complexes targeted in last year's lethal police operation. He lost 10 family members — including a brother, an uncle and cousins — to violence. He credits a nonprofit that offered martial arts classes in a nearby favela with keeping him from a perilous path, an insight that inspired him to create his own academy in his childhood neighborhood. Since opening in 2014, Abraço Campeão, or Embrace Champions, has expanded into boxing, jiu-jitsu, Muay Thai and capoeira, along with educational talks. Duarte hopes to raise its current capacity of 600 students to 1,000.

"I often say that martial arts, Abraço Campeão, offers the same things that draw youngsters to gangs: identity, respect, attention, authority and a sense of belonging," Duarte said during a recent tour of the school. Classes, uniforms and equipment are free. During one of the thrice-weekly sessions, attendees take part in an hour-long discussion with an educator on themes ranging from environmental issues to relationships. Mherrhy Esperança Rosário, a 23-year-old amateur boxer who has been with the school for more than a decade, is studying software engineering at a nearby university. He said the school changed his life. "Abraço Campeão offers a path that is different to what we often see around here," he said. "It shows that we can attain our dreams."

When two armed men turned up to Vanderson Rocha Silva's electricity course in a Rio favela asking to join, the 43-year-old did not turn them away. Today both work as electricians. "If they want to leave crime but they don't have an employment opportunity, any hopes for life, what are they supposed to do? A project changes everything," Rocha Silva said. He grew up in an abusive household in the famed City of God favela and was 8 when he entered drug trafficking. After prison stints and a conversion to Evangelical Christianity, he left that life and now runs what he calls a therapeutic community named "R3," standing for Rescuing, Resocializing and Resending. The organization offers psychological assistance as well as free electricity, refrigeration and English courses.

"I'm starting my life again," said Danilo Gomes da Silva, 37, who was once addicted to cocaine and involved in a criminal organization. He now has a job in building maintenance and is slowly furnishing a small home, with a fridge on the way. "Look at all (the pastor) is doing without help from the state. Imagine all the people he could resocialize," he said.

Nadia dos Santos' son Cleyverson ran a social project that distributed food, medicine, clothes and other essentials to people in need in the Chapadão complex of favelas where he grew up. After police killed him in 2022 when he was 17, his mother shifted the project's focus specifically to helping youth under 26 find jobs and training. "We have to get them out of the world of criminality where they are used to living," dos Santos said. Due to funding challenges, the project remains in its early stages, hosting occasional events. Dos Santos plans to transform a house she owns into its headquarters, with a room for computers and another for a community food center.

At a recent event she organized in her son's memory, other grieving mothers called for a change in Rio's security approach. Maria Rubia Brito da Silva, 61, who attended the event, said her son and grandson became involved in drug trafficking and were later killed. "Even if our sons become involved in the wrong kind of life, the state doesn't have a right to take their lives away," she said. Brito da Silva blamed the lack of educational, recreational and employment options for youth gang involvement, and said her granddaughter hardly has class because of police operations. "If there were opportunities for these children, I'm sure they would leave the streets and their self-esteem would soar," she said. "They would be able to lead a dignified life and bring lots of pride to us mothers who live with the fear of losing our sons."