Eighteen years have passed since the first large-scale invasion of Complexo do Alemán. Almost 20 years later, we are still repeating the same scenario. The state shoots, the media broadcasts live coverage, the authorities promise to “recover the territory” — and soon life returns to normal, with unstable schools, scant opportunities, and the spigots of violence turned on.
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In some cities, gunshots, bombs, and dead bodies lie behind the scenes of everyday life. unfortunately. The heading no longer works. We need more bodies, more cameras, more spectacle.
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The cost of each operation is predictable: deaths, injuries, burned vehicles, bodies lying on both sides. Exhausted police officers, boys with nowhere to go. And the question no one can answer: What happened between one invasion and the next? How many childcare centres, schools, universities, cultural centers and employment opportunities have appeared in these places where the nation only appears in uniform?
At Faria Lima, we encourage young people to dream big, invest and launch startups. In the alleys of the slums, they are taught how to survive and escape. Territories of the same country are separated by political choices rather than by kilometers. Creative risks pay off there. The simple act of existing is punished here.
Meanwhile, the wheels of war continue to turn. The person pushing the button for the operation rarely steps on the ground where the operation takes place. He’s not one to run away, bleed out, or wake up to the sound of a helicopter. The costs of one day’s conflict, such as ammunition, armor, personnel, and funerals, can support schools, scholarships, and cultural and sports workshops for several months.
And the plot repeats itself. The phone rings and the terror begins. Another soldier leaves and another boy collapses. The state records statistics. People record their absences. The country is watching as if this is just another episode in a tragic series that will never be broadcast.
According to the study, Brazil spends more than 20,000 reais a year to keep prisoners, and just over half of that goes to sending students to school.
There are no winners in this war. The losers are always the same: mothers, wives, children, and siblings. The tears of a mother mourning her children in uniform and those of a mother mourning children who have never worn a uniform are the same in pain and abandonment. But who cares about these mothers? The maxim of war is: “Make your mother cry, not me.”
We know that this conspiracy marks a new phase in this country, one that turns tragedy into a platform and turns the dead, in uniform or not, into electoral assets.
When the dust settles, it leaves marks on walls and hearts. Fear spreads, hate ferments, and the cycle begins again. We are still caught up in the logic of conflict, unable to recognize that while we celebrate our victories, we are burying further parts of our future.
If we really want to win, we will need to replace the vocabulary of war with the vocabulary of life. Invest in daycare and college instead of prison. Public policy that identifies young people before containment becomes necessary. It is action that provides a path forward before the only path becomes a dead end of violence.
Until then, we will count the bodies, pray for the mothers, and repeat the same drama. Wars where there are no winners, wars where everyone loses, and the cost of indifference is measured in lives.
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