Taking Boston's lead, police in Rio lighten up

A couple of months ago, Major Antnio Carlos Carballo would never have ventured alone into the back alleys of the Cantagalo slum. Too many men armed with semi-automatic weapons. Too many cocaine traffickers handing out packets to child couriers.

Today, however, the amiable police commander climbs up the mountain like a man who's always lived here. Armed with just a pistol, he slowly hikes into the bowels of the muddy favela, past open sewers and goats. He pats children on the head, inquires after a young man's caged birds and sings out "Good afternoon" to all.

Heading a revamped community police force, Mr. Carballo tries, with the simplest of gestures, to show locals that the police are not the enemy. The concept of community policing may seem like common sense in wealthy countries. But here in the Rio slums, the idea, modeled on a similar program in Boston, is simply revolutionary.

"Until now, police were trained to go into the hills not to protect the public or provide sanctuary but to repress," Carballo says. "We are trying to create a new way to protect society and act with and for the community to identify and solve problems. It's a very simple concept, but a very different one for police."

In Cantagalo, a community of about 12,000 people perched on a hill overlooking the world famous beach front neighborhoods of Copacabana and Ipanema, police have in effect admitted they are powerless to stop much of the drug running that goes on. So, instead of continuing to fight an inevitably losing battle with the powerful traffickers who control the area, the police are making a deal with them.

Through a series of intermediaries that included community leaders and local media, the police told gang leaders that if they keep the slum free of violence, make sure drug deals are done in private and prevent children from getting involved in serious crime, then the police will make sure their officers act within the letter of the law. In short, they said, "Don't bother us, and we won't bother you."

"It's a veiled pact," admits Carballo.

The pact with the area's criminals is based on an experiment that originated in Boston in 1992 after youths fired shots at rival gang members attending the funeral of a slain colleague. The incident galvanized church leaders who formed an outreach program aimed at connecting with gang members and drug dealers. Religious leaders convinced police and federal agencies to get involved and using the clergy as a bridge the authorities told gang leaders that unless violence decreased, the police would crack down hard.

The leaders responded and the homicide rate in Boston fell by more than 70 percent, says the man in charge of the program, Lt. Detective Gary French. Rio authorities found out about the program when Rubem Cesar Fernandes, the head of nongovernmental organization Viva Rio, met French at a World Council of Churches seminar that brought together faith groups from cities looking to overcome violence in their communities.

Mr. Fernandes, an anthropologist known and respected in Rio for his tireless campaigns against violence, introduced French to Rio's state governor and together they convinced him to try out the Boston project in Cantagalo and the adjoining favelas of Pavo and Pavozinho.

Today, less than two months into the experiment, the signs are encouraging. There has been no serious violence in the favela and no killings since the program began, and both police and residents say they no longer see weapons being carried conspicuously on the streets.

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