In this chapter, I focus not so much on the paradigmatic victims of police terror in Brazil – and the expanding nature of the fundamentally anti-Black economy of violability that explains this country’s astonishing level of homicidal violence against Black and non-Black individuals living in predominantly Black spaces – but instead on the critical role that urban ethnographers can play in demystifying the “war on police” and advancing an insurgent intellectual movement that pushes toward police abolition in the contemporary world. Brazil is the departure point of analysis for obvious reasons. As the country with the highest rates of civilians killed by the police, it has seen a proliferation of anthropological studies on police violence and police culture within the last few decades. Not only have anthropologists dedicated increasing attention to the challenges and possibilities of democratic policing, but officers themselves have become ethnographers – or at least relied on some of ethnography’s techniques – in their attempts to provide “privileged” accounts of police praxis.

In the early days of the twentieth century, missionaries from the United States were in a spiritual battle for the hearts and minds of Brazilians. As a result, in 1901, the Baptists founded “O Jornal Batista.” Four years later, the Catholic Church established its first paper, “A União.” In their pages, these papers reflected the spiritual battle that was being fought. A significant part of the struggle focused on the idea that the United States was either a civilizing agent (“O Jornal Batista”) or an agent of barbarism (“A União”). Social and political topics gripping the northern country, such as lynching, racism, and prohibition law, were regular topics of discussion in both papers. This chapter aims to provide a brief discussion of the significance of these debates and their meaning in the context of North American missions in Brazil, especially in the northeastern part of the country. The sources highlight how locals used religion to understand and articulate changes in local political dynamics as well as the various ways Protestantism changed the parameters of local political debates.

This chapter analyzes the first edition of the health magazine “Vida e Saúde” [Life and Health], published in January of 1939 by the Seventh-Day Adventist Church’s (SDAC) publisher, Casa Publicadora Brasileira. This periodical was released during the dictatorship of Estado Novo (1937–1945) and endorsed some of the eugenist and hygienist public policies of its time. Although the magazine did not advocate Adventist proselytism, it promoted the health message conveyed by the Adventist prophetess Ellen G. White, making this magazine a unique example of print media dedicated to questions of health guided by religious and creationist worldviews. It also highlights the importance of the Adventist print media as one of the hallmarks of this church in Brazil since its beginnings in the late nineteenth century.

This concluding chapter discusses the main contributions of the volume, notably the implications of adopting a practical approach to social democracy. It also considers the key analytical lessons from the chapters for understanding the evolution of reformist politics, policy-making as well as the role rhetoric, language, and ideology. It also reflects on the wider implications of this agenda by examining its relevance to other parts of the world, such as Latin America (Brazil) and East Central Europe (Poland), and other policy areas, notably immigration. The analysis implies that the core logic of practical social democracy could be applicable across a wide range of countries and policy areas, but it also highlights that the specific nature of the feasible trade-offs between governance, electoral, and organisational imperatives vary across such settings and over time, thereby contributing to the diversity of reformist parties and policies.

This chapter shows how the Brazilian Congress, operating in a dictatorship in which factions had unstable and uneven levels of unity and embeddedness, oscillated betwen working as a reviser and as a notary legislature. Quantitative analyses and case studies of tax policy, budgetary policy, and constitutional reforms show that while Congress was institutionally empowered to amend and reject government initiatives, it was more likely to exercise its lawmaking powers against initiatives sponsored by nondominant factions that were less able to retaliate, and less likely to be able to sustain its decisions against the executive when the presidency was controlled by a military faction with high levels of unity and embeddedness. Still, repeatedly probing the boundaries of representation, Brazilian legislators managed to frustrate important economic policies and to force the military into initiating the transition to democracy.

This chapter analyzes two countries where criminal economies have thrived in marginalized urban communities, yet only Brazil experiences localized criminal wars while Argentina faces limited violence. The chapter explains how the Brazilian military dictatorship developed a counterinsurgent state with an extensive intelligence and repressive apparatus that allowed its specialists in violence’s involvement in illicit economies. The first democratic government failed to hold authoritarian specialists in violence accountable, and validated a military-era amnesty law, enabling the survival of the counterinsurgent state. Authoritarian security forces adapted counterinsurgency practices to launch wars on crime, sold protection to gangs, or controlled illicit markets, turning Brazil into one of the world’s most violent democracies. The chapter then discusses the development of Argentina’s counterinsurgent state. It analyzes the role of the security apparatus in developing a clandestine carceral system to perpetrate gross human right violations and the participation of authoritarian specialists in violence in illicit markets in dictatorship. After transitioning to democracy, Argentina’s first administration initiated a robust truth commission and the historic trial of the military juntas, unlocking Latin America’s most powerful accountability shock. Multiple truth and justice “boosters” contributed to dismantle the counterinsurgent state, to deflate criminal markets, and to put the country on a path of relative peaceful development.

This chapter examines how narratives of corruption are mobilized by two very different political actors in Latin America: marginalized rural farmers and free-market think tank elites. We show that, for each group, corruption is both a central element of political discourse and a tool for shaping state–society relations and advancing particular interests. Their narratives serve to define the boundaries of corruption, interpret the state, and drive and justify political action within changing historical contexts – for Colombian farmers, a state that has become newly consequential to their lives; and for right-wing think tank elites, a left turn in regional politics. The comparison demonstrates that while each group uses similar narratives, their different social positions and networks shape the actions they take in response: Farmers rely on clientelist networks to access the few state resources left to them by elite corruption, while elites engage in a hegemonic struggle against leftist populism. Paradoxically, even while sharing a strikingly similar understanding of corruption, each group condemns the practices of the other as corrupt. This analysis underscores the ubiquity of corruption as a strategic and moralizing tool in Latin American politics.

This conversation draws on an online discussion involving Brazilian Indigenous hip-hop artists Bruno Veron and Kelvin Peixoto, of the Brô MC’s duo, and Kunumi MC (a.k.a. Owerá). The Brazilian rap movement began in São Paulo in late 1980s, led by Black performers and activists, among them DJ Thaide and Racionais MC’s. As in other countries, Brazilian rap and hip-hop are mostly urban. Racionais MC’s focus on youth life in the peripheral areas of urban São Paulo, featuring topics such as racism, social inequality and drug violence. These themes held clear appeal for Indigenous peoples confronting racism, displacement and violence in Brazil. Performing in a combination of Guarani and Portuguese, Brô MC’s emerged in 2009 as the first Indigenous rap and hip-hop group, speaking to the violence and racism against Indigenous peoples that are particularly intense in the region they come from, Mato Grosso do Sul.

This chapter explores the theoretical themes of the book: art, politics and anti-racism; emotion and affect in art and politics; Latin American racial formations. It outlines the research project on which the book is based: Cultures of Anti-Racism in Latin America (CARLA).

A conversation curated from an online event, Decolonising the Arts in Latin America: Anti-Racist Irruptions in the Art World. Artists from different parts of Latin America talk about their work from a decolonial and anti-racist perspective. Participants include Miriam Álvarez, director of the Mapuche theatre company El Katango; Alejandra Ejido, director of the Afro-Argentine company Teatro en Sepia; Ashanti Dinah Orozco, Afro-Colombian poet and Afro-feminist activist; Rafael Palacios, founder and director of the Afro-contemporary dance company Sankofa Danzafro; and Arissana Pataxó and Denilson Baniwa, Brazilian Indigenous visual artists.

Contemporary Brazilian Indigenous art is rising both in production by and public recognition of artists such as Denilson Baniwa, Jaider Esbell, Naine Terena and Daiara Tukano. Indigenous literature is also becoming increasingly visible with writers such as Daniel Munduruku, Ailton Krenak, Davi Kopenawa, Eliane Potiguara and Julie Dorrico. These trends have opened new spaces for a ‘contest of imaginaries’, expanding possibilities for Indigenous rights. For Brazil’s Indigenous peoples, racism is often connected to land and resource control. So anti-racism often takes the form of a struggle to defend ancestral territories and livelihoods, often associated with the ‘multiplication of differences’, opposing monocultures of all kinds and promoting the creation of spaces for the similarities in life and struggle that connect people across differences. First we give an overview of Brazilian Indigenous movements since the 1970s, introducing recurring themes that have concerned writers and artists. Then we describe the development of contemporary Indigenous literature and visual art in Brazil and their relation to anti-racism, with extended case studies from the Brazilian Amazon and the northeast region.

This section present some final reflections from three artists and groups of artists who offer some thoughts on art and anti-racism and on their experiences with the CARLA project. There are contributions from Arissana Pataxó, an Indigenous Brazilian artist; Miriam Álvarez, Lorena Cañuqueo and Alejandra Egido, Mapuche and Afro-Cuban actors and directors behind the Argentine theatre companies Grupo de Teatro ‘El Katango’ and Teatro en Sepia; and Wilson Borja, an Afro-Colombian graphic artist.

Using the case of the exhibition Véxoa: Nós Sabemos, the first Indigenous-only arts exhibition at the Pinacoteca de São Paulo (2020–2021), we explore the deconstruction of the coloniality of a visual culture based on stereotypes of Indigenous peoples; self-representation as a strategy to combat the invisibilisation of Indigenous authorship in Brazil; and Indigenous arts as affective interventions that amplify the struggle for Indigenous rights. We show how contemporary Indigenous arts in Brazil are unsettling categories persistently associated with native aesthetics, and enacting anti-racism by challenging the dominant culture’s appropriation and exploitation of Indigenous cultures. In Véxoa, objects perceived as artifacts or crafts by hegemonic visual cultures are recontextualised as works of art, empowering Indigenous artists in symbolic, political and economic terms. Indigenous artists can disrupt the power dynamics that perpetuate racism, demonstrating that, in order to confront colonial and extractive practices that have historically marginalised Indigenous peoples, it is important for museums to establish collaborative relationships with Indigenous artists and community members in the curatorial process.