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In the Middle of an Urban War

Middle-Classness and Fear of Violence in Rio de

Janeiro

Gustavo Segat

Peace and Conflict Studies Bachelor of Arts 12 Credits Spring/2019 Supervisor: John Åberg Word count: 13.698

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Abstract

This research frames the context of Rio de Janeiro as a New War, and explores the phenomenological formation of fear among residents in the middle of the socio-economic pyramid. Through eleven semi-structured interviews, the body sensations and context in which fear of violence is likely to emerge are explored in a quest to describe the consequences for the group living amidst war. The research indicates that aside from class, gender and age are also relevant for the creation of fear of violence and conclude that the experiences of Rio de Janeiro’s residents are very similar to previous studies of civilians amidst New Urban Wars. The major take-away, however, is that middle-classness does not eliminate fear, but leads it towards a specific angst about losing personal assets – like mobile phones –as opposed to direct physical harm. In knowing this, one concludes that middle-class fear is mostly psychological, and the group addresses it by using the resources available to enlarge perceived safety. The observations made here should be useful to future enquires about the experiences of civilians in urban conflict within Rio de Janeiro and other urban areas at war around the world, in addition to fomenting a scholarship about those forgotten in the middle of our cities.

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Resumo

Esta pesquisa enquadra o contexto do Rio de Janeiro como uma New War e explora a formação fenomenológica do medo entre os moradores no meio da pirâmide socioeconômica. Por meio de entrevistas semiestruturadas, as sensações corporais e o contexto em que medo da violência surge são exploradas, numa tentativa de descrever as consequências de viver em meio à guerra para o grupo. A pesquisa indica que além de classe, gênero e idade também são relevantes na composição do medo da violência e concluem que, de fato, as experiências dos moradores do Rio são muito semelhantes aos estudos anteriores de civis em meio à guerras urbanas. A principal conclusão, no entanto, é que ser da classe média não elimina o medo, mas cria uma angústia específica sobre a perda de bens materiais, como telefones celulares, em oposição a danos físicos diretos. Sabendo disso, indica-se que o medo da classe média é principalmente psicológico e tratado pelo grupo usando os recursos disponíveis para aumentar a percepção de segurança. As observações aqui feitas podem ser úteis para futuras investigações sobre as experiências de civis no Rio de Janeiro, tanto como em outras áreas urbanas em guerra ao redor do mundo, além de fomentar o conhecimento sobre aqueles esquecidos no meio das nossas cidades.

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List of Abbreviations

ADA – Amigos dos Amigos (in Portuguese) or Friends of Friends (in English) CV – Comando Vermelho (in Portuguese) or Red Command (in English) GBV – Gender Based Violence

IBGE – Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatisticas (in Portuguese) or The

National Institute for Geography and Statistics (in English)

TCP – Terceiro Comando Puro (in Portuguese) or Third Pure Command (in

English)

UPP – Unidade Pacificadora Policial (in Portuguese) or Pacifying Police Unit in

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Table of Contents

1. Introduction 8

1.1. Letter to the Self 8

1.2. Research Problem and Questions 10

1.3. Research Aim 13

1.4. Relevance to Peace and Conflict Studies 13

1.5. Thesis Outline 14

2. Background 15

2.1. Urban Development and Organized Crime in Rio 15 2.2. Pacification and Conflict amidst Mega Events 18

3. Previous Research 21

3.1. Urban Conflict 21

3.1.1. From Old to New Wars 21

3.1.2. From New Wars to New Urban Wars 22

3.2. In the Middle of Urban Conflict 23

3.2.1. The Middle-Class in New Urban Wars 24

3.3. Civilian Fear in Urban Conflict 26

4. Theoretical framework 29

4.1. Phenomenology 29

4.2. Towards a Phenomenology of Violence and Fear 31

5. Method, Data and Research Ethics 34

5.1. Method and Data 34

5.2. Research Ethics 38

6. Results 39

6.1. Research Question 1 39

6.2. Research Question 2 42

6.3. The Essence of Fear of Violence 48

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8. References 55

9. Appendixes 65

9.1. Appendix 1: Interview Guide 65

9.2. Appendix 2: Researcher Flyer and Invitation 67

9.2.1. Appendix 2a: Original 67

9.2.2. Appendix 2b: Translation 68

9.3. Appendix 3: Clusters of meaning 69

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Acknowledgments

Steve for telling me where to go. Maja for telling me what to look for. John for holding my hand. Co-researchers for giving me directions. Morten, for being there.

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1. Introduction

1.1. Letter to the Self

Copenhagen, 20th April 2019

Dear Mind,

It was early morning when I landed in Rio de Janeiro last year – Rio, as I prefer to call it. Dad was waiting, prompted to drive me to the place I was to stay for the next three months. I rented a room walking distance from the office in which my internship was. When asked about the accommodation, which he inspected a few weeks earlier, dad said the house was nice but he was concerned about the location: “It is in a dangerous area. You’ll need to be careful”.

His comments worried me as the last thing I wanted while in Rio was to fear the violence that makes the city often appear in headlines in the media. When looking for places to stay, I searched for areas that I heard were safe, but apparently my sources were out-dated regarding the current violence dynamics. Later on, I was refused taxi rides several times and often questioned by the drivers as to why I was living in such a dangerous area.

My experience of living in an area that is universally perceived as dangerous got me thinking about how violence is perceived by cariocas – Rio’s natives – and the impact violence warnings made by my family members and friends had on me. During the years I lived in Brazil and my post-departure visits to Rio, I had never experienced direct physical violence or been a victim of robbery. I would think that being a tall man might have reduced the risks of being victimized, but my actions certainly have been carefully coordinated with my alertness, avoidance of certain areas, as well as leaving valuables at home depending on my destination.

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What was special about my last trip to Rio was that I stayed longer than my usual holidays. During the period, I felt that I had grown aware of violence and feared it more than before, especially in comparison to my teenage years in my hometown in the southern part of the country. I started to dress down in order to not to be noticed, to be constantly alert and anxious, change my routes considerably to avoid quiet streets and would greet strangers on the streets in order to build rapport. If leaving the house when dark, I would hide belongings and money in my underwear or socks and often use taxis because of my fear. When foreign friends were visiting, I projected my fear of violence onto them. Soon after they landed, I was giving instructions on where to go, how to get there and how they should behave to avoid violence. Thinking about it now, in the ostensible safety of Copenhagen, it all sounds so absurd!

I feel that this fear of violence makes people look for ways to ensure security. Within my family, over the years they have increased the number of services used to make them feel safer. Our house had a fence, then an alarm, followed by an electrified barbed wire and more recently security guards paid to check on us every now and then. In my father’s apartment in a condominium in Rio, there are two security guards on the clock in addition to many fences that isolate us from the street. What is interesting is that these services are reasonably affordable for a middle class family ours.

All this makes me feel annoyed at this situation. Even though I never experienced direct physical violence I felt taken hostage by my psychological fear. My actions in Rio were all planned though a “risk assessment perspective”. I analysed situations to find ways to mitigate danger: Is there someone here that can cause me harm? Where could I hide if necessary? What is the escape route?

This fear of violence present in the city also made me feel frightened and intimidated. Perhaps influenced by my life abroad, seeing police carrying huge machine guns felt strange. I remember walking to the convenience shop and being wowed by the police’s equipment – they were holding machine guns while happily discussing football and drinking coffee in their lunch-break. I also thought about how their car seemed to have gone through some rough battles with all the scratches and marks.

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These perceptions drove me into an interrelated state of stress, anxiety and alertness. Walking on the streets made my muscles tense and ready to run. Even though I thought to have grown used to the fear throughout my stay in Rio, my eyes were always watching out beyond the scope of the immediate interaction: the uncertainty of violence became the norm.

This is all I have for today,

With love,

Gustavo.

1.2. Research Problem and Questions

“Where do we find war?” asked Nordstrom (2004:54) in Shadows of War. Her

definition of war blurs the civil and military boundaries traditionally connected to conflict, reaching the likes of companies profiting from war, scientists designing weapons and the consultants living in “peaceful” countries. She is not alone. Graham (2001), for example, argues that for comprehending conflicts one should look into the spaces, infrastructure and cultural aspects of everyday urban life. His crossover between urbanism and militarism suggests that nowadays wars are fought in subtle ways within the fast-growing cities around the world.

Cape Town in South Africa, Cali in Colombia and Manaus in Brazil do not often make the headlines in the security sections of international newspapers. Yet, their streets serve as battlefields for states and gangs disputing territories, causing well over one thousand homicides in 2015/2016 in each city alone (Muggah & Tobón 2018:5). Such numbers, reaching beyond twenty-five death-related battles, makes one categorize these and similar cities as experiencing an armed-conflict (UCDP 2019) and urge an exploration of the consequences of such patterns for those dwelling within violent urban spaces.

My personal experiences of fear of violence in Rio de Janeiro certainly made me feel I was amidst a war. In fact, by connecting my perceptions to the

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classification of war by intensity suggested by Angstrom & Widen (2017:27), it becomes just to make violence in Rio a case of war. In 2017 alone, there were 1.127 civilian fatalities connected to police interventions and more than one hundred police staff killed in Rio de Janeiro. Similar numbers have also remained consistent over the three previous years (FBSP 2018:102), making it important to reflect on how cariocas deal with the conflict as it permeates their everyday lives. The literature on urban violence in other contexts is vast and certainly helpful to explain some experiences, in particular those of economically-disadvantaged or the elites. The poor are more likely to die or face direct physical violence from the conflict actors and have fewer resources to enhance their feeling of security (Moser 2004; Caldeira 2000; Scheper-Hughes 2004:175). Elites are often described as addressing fears by hiring private security services (Sandercock 2017), avoiding public spaces, enclaving themselves in luxury condominiums (Holston 2008; Caldeira 2000; Nightingale 2012) or even using fear to justify their desires for racial segregation (Lemanski 2004).

To concentrate academic efforts in the most vulnerable on the scale of victimization is certainly understandable. Yet, reflecting on my experiences as informed by the knowledge-gap identified by Lemanski (2017), it seems reasonable to start developing some sort of knowledge about those in between the socio-economic extremes. Brazil has experienced an almost ten-points drop in the

Gini coefficient between 1995-2015 (WB 2019), enlarging the proportion of the

former small middle-class.

But one could still reason: Why wouldn’t middle-class individuals feel safe? As I mentioned, my family’s house has several security features implemented to make us feel safer. Commuting is done using cars with tinted windows which (Bauman 2009:26) cause possible thieves to doubt if the valuables within it are worth the risk. Much of middle-class leisure is performed in private spaces, like shopping centres or private clubs, patrolled by security guards (Nightingale 2012:207). Yet, the middle-class carioca fears violence.

Of the total population aged eighteen or over in Rio de Janeiro, around 80% is said to fear violence (Datafolha and FBSP 2018:25). Lacking a better indication of class within the same dataset, fear among the middle-class may be

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measured by the security sector that grew 230% within the decade previous to 2015 (Cigana 2016). Fear can be also indicated, according to Caldeira (2000:128), by the number of gun seizures and new registrations.

A record-high number of weapon registrations was made in 2018, something reserved for those capable of affording the costly fees associated with legal weapons (Mariz 2019). And a recent opinion poll questioning the support of a policy facilitating the registration of weapons has also indicated a positive correlation between higher incomes and the backing of the proposal (Datafolha 2018).

With the indication that the middle-class does not feel safe despite having resources, I started by exploring the constitution of this fear of violence. I follow the advice of Bernasconi (2013:82), which indicates the invisible aspects of violence – like fear – are best studied by a phenomenological approach and pose the following research questions adequating it to the sample that will be used:

Question 1: What are the common experiences of Rio de Janeiro’s middle-class

dwellers interviewed in terms of fear of violence?

Question 2: What are the common situations or contexts that typically influence

the experiences of fear of violence in Rio de Janeiro’s middle-class individuals interviewed?

The first question explores the textural format of fear experienced by the

carioca middle-class – e.g. body sensation and feelings based on previous

experiences; the second tackles the structure informing the phenomenon – e.g. space and context. Together, they indicate what the co-researchers experience when they fear (Creswell 2007:61) and humbly help to establish some knowledge regarding the middle-class in urban war.

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1.3. Research Aim

The objective of this phenomenological inquiry is to uncover the essence of fear of violence experienced by middle-class civilians in Rio de Janeiro. It uses a New

Wars perspective to describe the bodily sensations and contextual aspects that

contribute to the existence of the phenomenon. In applying this perspective to the group, this research hopes to amplify the stories of those who feel insecure in the urban context of a city dominated by organized crime and a military-like police force. The method of inquiry included phenomenological reflection of phone interviews with those self-described middle-class individuals said to fear violence, juxtaposed to previous studies on civilians’ experiences during war.

1.4. Relevance to Peace and Conflict Studies

When I enrolled in Peace and Conflict Studies at Malmö University I expected to study the wars that movies had shown me: the battlefield, military, bombs and chaos. Yet, during my studies I understood that wars were more complex than my initial impression. Mamdani (2007) made me aware of the political and economic weight of naming something a war and told me about the not-to-be named wars. Nordstrom (2004) made me question actors of war, warning me to watch beyond my camouflaged imaginary, and Galtung (1969) messed with what I thought to be indicators of peace.

In writing this project, I pay tribute to ideas the literature presented me in the last six semesters, and try to combine them to discuss how civilians in one of those unnamed wars live. In putting my efforts and newly acquired skills into work, I humbly hope to demonstrate that in fact wars – and civilians experiencing it – may be overlooked if we are to limit ourselves to those conflicts shown in movies or out-dated definitions.

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1.5. Thesis Outline

Following the introduction of my perceptions of fear of violence in Rio de Janeiro and the puzzle and questions leading this enquiry, you will find a comprehensive historical account of conflict in the city divided into two parts: one that explains the spread of organized crime in Rio, and another illustrating the more recent conflict dynamics. The subsequent chapter explores previous studies on three fronts: the debates of war typologies, the existing research on socio-economic class in war, and fear among civilians during conflicts.

The Theoretical Framework chapter clarifies the epistemological assumptions of the phenomenological approach, delving into the conceptualization of violence and fear implemented throughout this research. Method, data and ethics issues relevant to the material used are discussed in the following segment before the results are presented according to their relevance in answering each research question. The results are then discussed and placed within the existent literature followed by closing remarks including an indication of the limitations of this study and possibilities for further research in the topic.

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2. Background

This chapter historicizes the urban development of Rio, intertwined with the spread of organized crime in the city, before accounting for the most recent events impacting the dynamics of the conflict.

2.1. Urban Development and Organized Crime in

Rio

Rio was one of the fastest growing urban centres in the world in the 19th century

(Nightingale 20012:206). One factor for the large influx of people was the black slaves migrating to the city after being freed (Cummings 2015:4). Another was the economic crisis in Europe that pushed the poor abroad in search for better conditions elsewhere (Nightingale 2012:206).

This had an impact across the Atlantic where the race for housing in Rio created a highly disputed rental market. Whether Old World immigrants were capable of paying for precarious accommodation in collective housing, ex-slaves were forced out from the city centre into new housing arrangements (Nightingale 2012:207). Around 1900, the first “irregular” settlements appear in the mountains located intricately within the city-centre and its northern fringes – constituting what are today known as favelas (Sánchez & Broudehoux 2013:17).

This drove the city into chaos, embedding it with diseases such as yellow fever (Nightingale 2012:206). Authorities addressed the pressure by “beautifying” the city with the construction of Parisian-style boulevards used to exercise urban control on violence and issue eviction orders for favela residents (Cummings 2015:4). The “revitalization” proved efficient in building infrastructure connecting the elites to the beaches in Southern Zone area they would soon migrate to (Nightingale 2012:207). It did not, however, address the lack of infrastructure that

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dwellers experienced in the remaining favelas within the city and growing informal housing conglomerates forming in the Northern Zone.

From 1940 until 1960, the city continued to grow by the millions with the influx of internal migrants looking for jobs while modernizing to accommodate automobiles driven by the upper and middle-class (Brandão 2006:5). It is during the same period that Rio saw a substantial development of organized crime. Operationalized through Jogo do Bixo1, several cartels emerged to buy “police protection” fomenting corruption among the class, in addition to employing ex-inmates and economically disadvantaged youngsters living in the favelas (Misse 2007:5).

In the course of the military dictatorship lasting between 1964-1985 repression of crime and “deviants” was fierce. The official policy was to dismantle favelas, and relocate their residents to outer areas valued at lower premiums (Cummings 2015:4). And the middle class experienced violence through torture and jail sentences, a fallout of political activism against the military dictatorship ruling the country (Caldeira 2000:155).

It is interesting that the combination of political prisoners with those criminals often incarcerated because of Jogo do Bixo led to more severe types of violence. In sharing prison cells, non-political inmates noticed that left-leaning political prisoners’ organisation enabled them to secure better conditions for the whole group through collective action (Penglase 2008:9). They would share food, jointly protest and protect themselves to minimize the impact of torture.

By 1979, Comando Vermelho (CV), an organized criminal in-mate alliance spread to the majority of the penitentiaries aiming to improve in-mates living conditions (Penglase 2008:10). The “movement” had a flat-hierarchy and claimed that every in-mate could pursue its criminal interests within the prison as long as it did not impact the collective well-being. In the following decade CV expanded to the favelas, simply explained, because many of those incarcerated were from these long-neglected areas.

It is also in the 1980s that elite and middle-class migrated in masses to Barra da Tijuca on the West Zone fearing robbery and kidnapping, practices

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replacing the previously common theft (Penglase 2008:9). Life in the suburb accommodated the luxury seen in movies, in addition to provide isolation that made them feel secure (Misse 2007:9). These feelings were informed by the need of cars to access the area, in addition to the twenty-four hour guards and intercoms available on the newly built condominiums (Nightingale 2012:404).

By the mid-1980s CV switched its main activities from robberies into drug dealing, supplying the demand for weed and cocaine (Penglase 2008:12). Barely a decade later, the city reached record high levels of violence with the dispute for territories that drug dealing demanded. The practice required a network for bringing drugs into the city, storage and a consistent place for its commercialization (ibid.). This created split-offs in CV, fuelling the emergence of competing criminal organizations such as Amigos dos Amigos (ADA) and Terceiro Comando Puro (TCP), which competed for control of strategic locations to facilitate drug handling (Muggah and Mulli 2012).

The complex territory of self-built favelas made a great place to locate operations (Vargas 2006). The uphill position of some informal settlements facilitated surveillance in case other groups or police tried to intervene, while those favelas on the outskirts were useful to store deliveries arriving through the highways (Penglase 2011). The dynamics of competition for these territories also reinforced the occurrence of violent crimes, such as homicides, victimizing mostly economically-deprived residents of these areas.

It also reinforced spatial class segregation already existent, stopping those middle-class individuals from frequenting escolas de samba2 in the favelas as their fear of violence in these areas increased (Vargas 2006). As a response, the City Council, the Estate and Federal Government proposed a major plan to restructure the city, address violence and include favelas in urban development. Transforming Rio into a major tourist destination was the solution found, including pitching its suitability for mega events, to – again – “beautify” Rio up to international standards (Sánchez & Broudehoux 2013).

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2.2. Pacification and Conflict amidst Mega Events

Making Rio a feasible option for mega events required the authorities to change its reputation of being a “city at war” (Saborio and Costa 2018) and address the 60:100,000 homicides per habitants haunting the city in the mid-1990s (Muggah and Mulli 2012). The slow expansion of some public services and urbanisation of some favelas, investments in alternative policing and the slight decline in cocaine’s hype have, together, contributed to the weakening of drug cartels and the decrease in violence levels over the years (Misse 2007:13).

The improved reputation made Rio able to slowly attract those mega events intended to build a strong service-economy. In 2007, there was the Pan American Games, the World Military Games in 2011 and The Youth Day two years later. It was in 2014 and 2016 respectively, that the city hosted the Football World Cup and the Summer Olympics – the cherries on its mega events cake (Saborio and Costa 2018).

Aside from infrastructure, investments in security were required (Saborio and Costa 2018). The Federal, State and Municipal Government found that a public-private Partnership could tackle the issue of violence and reduce the burden already in place on public finances (Fahlberg and Vicino 2016:12). Starting in 2008, an eight-year pacification programme started to be implemented in some

favelas with the aim to take back control of territory from drug cartels.

Interventions had three stages: a military incursion in conjunction with the army, a stabilization period lasting 100-150 days with extreme policing and the consolidation of the Pacifying Police Unit (UPP) within the favelas (Muggah and Mulli 2012). The strategy was inspired by the American urban warfare implemented by the United States military in Afghanistan trying to gain the hearts and minds of locals. It was also aided by the experienced Brazilian military personnel that operated in a similar context while leading the UN mission in Haiti (Müller 2018:221).

Immense criticism was directed at the programme. To cite a few: favelas chosen for pacification were those closer to richer neighbourhoods, resulting in real estate speculation (Cummings 2015) and made to reduce the fear of violence of middle-class dwellers (Saborio and Costa 2018). The UPPs were also

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expensive to operate, requiring an unprecedented number of police personnel not available to end the urban war beyond the scale of wealthier neighbourhoods and areas frequented by tourists (Fahlberg and Vicino 2016:14).

Despite the negative aspects of the UPPs, the population at least initially welcomed the operations (Fahlberg 2018). They were particularly successful between 2008-2014, with a substantial decline in the homicide rates in pacified

favelas (Saborio and Costa 2018). Reductions in these rates were similarly seen in

police staff killed in and off-duty, as well as in the general account of homicides in the State of Rio de Janeiro (ISP 2018), indicating no casualties spill-offs to other municipalities.

The pacification process, however, influenced the dynamics of violence in other spheres. Cargo theft became a trend of crime within the region (Santos 2018) and an already existing type of organized crime, the milícias formed by former police personnel requesting “protection money”, also began to solidify its powers (Cano 2013:183). To worsen the conditions, the government’s badly planned monitoring and evaluation schema failed to adequate the UPPs continuously, which together with the expiration of the private funds paying for the expenses led to the end of the pacification programme in 2016 (Santos 2018).

As predicted by Muggah and Mulli (2012), the power vacuum erupting from the end of the UPPs led to a sharp increase in violence levels and reinforcement of drug cartels. The government, in a massive budget deficit, had no resources to pay personnel, let alone implement any new security programme (Santos 2018). By 2017, the violence indexes soared close to the numbers of the beginning of the pacification process (ISP 2018). This led the Federal Government to intervene in the city and assign the army for its security (Woody 2018).

The operation ended in December 2018 after one year of military intervention in the city. Cargo robberies were reduced by almost 20% from the previous year, but homicides, street and car theft only had a small reduction in comparison to the same period in the previous year (Alves 2018). The numbers of combat-related fatalities also rose and cariocas were said to not feel safer, even

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after the heavy financial burden required for the operation (Datafolha and FBSP 2018:16).

At the time of writing, homicide rates are down in comparison to 2018 at considerable levels, but police brutality has increased noticeably with an average of three people killed by official forces every day (Wheatley 2019). We also cannot ignore that actors, ranging from drug cartels (CV, ADA and TCP) to

milícias, are adaptable to this ever-changing low-intensity conflict (Turbiville

2007) or New Urban War. And given the state's lack of resources, it seems that civilians are watching a never-ending conflict from the comfort of their living rooms.

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3. Previous Research

The following subsections analyse the literature that this study simultaneously draws from and hopefully contributes to. It begins with an examination of definitions of war and moves on to discuss what is known about the middle-class in urban conflict, before investigates civilians’ fear in war.

3.1. Urban Conflict

3.1.1. From Old to New Wars

The analysis of war is nothing new. Sun Tzu (2008) over 2.000 years ago proposed a set of tactics informing possible combatants how to wage war efficiently. But it is with Clausewitz (1997:XV) that wars, from their beginning to end, were first analysed as social phenomena and discussed systematically. To him, wars were a dispute between two wrestlers using physical force to have the opponent fulfil one’s will (ibid.:5). When used exponentially to explain conflicts, the analogy involved the enemy (a country to be conquered), its military power to be destroyed and the will of the enemy’s population diminished (ibid.:25).

One of the preeminent critics of the triad (military-states-population) of war suggested by Clausewitz has been Kaldor (2012). She reasons on the increasing impact that technology and globalization have in creating new battlefield actors. Technology allows new mechanisms for fighting and communicating in wars that Clausewitz’s typology has not tackled. And, while governments can still be actors in war, globalization has weakened much of their powers and informed the development of new players waging war. Diasporas, paramilitaries, NGOs, and guerrilla groups are, nowadays, able to play roles not addressed in Clausewitz (Kaldor 2012:111).

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Kaldor has been criticized for failing to truly comprehend the author analysed. Daase and Davis (2015) argue that Clausewitz’s theory is still able to explain contemporary conflicts as it offers a historical perspective of wars and a theoretical framework to understand defence and offence, in addition to explain the impact of wars, including why states often lose them. However, Kaldor (2012:207) indicates that conflicts are currently most fought within states and not by them. They are a mix of war (including largely guerrilla tactics), crime and human rights violations informed by political interests, search for private gain and often result in violence against civilians – beyond the explanatory capabilities of Clausewitz’s Old Wars.

To Kaldor (2012:207), the political motivations for waging war are particularly important in categorizing a conflict as New War. She uses the case of drug cartels and gangs to argue that they should be allocated under crime because they lack a political agenda. What she fails to acknowledge is that gangs often offer services to their communities such as protection, electricity and employment, demonstrating a political development project similar to those implemented by states (Penglase 2008). She also neglects that states and organized crime operate within a very similar monopoly framework, blurring the boundaries of criminal and political (Tilly 1985).

Furthermore, categorizing mass violence within the crime spectrum leads to a unilateral analysis. It concerns the records of an increasingly militarily trained and equipped police, without a systematic analysis of the violence carried out by them, in addition to disregard the paths that lead “criminals” to commit violence in the first place (Meeks 2006). Flexing the “rules” of New Wars, therefore, enables a more comprehensive analysis that includes the violence committed by the police, milícias and drug cartels against civilians that concerns Kaldor (2012:207) in the first place.

3.1.2. From New Wars to New Urban Wars

In assuming that New Wars are understood with the blurred lenses of the criminal and the political proposed here, it then becomes necessary to discuss another shortfall of Kaldor’s (2012) analysis. While she identifies the dynamics of current

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conflicts, her consideration of urban context in New Wars is rather limited as cities as the main stages for conflict. In her defence, wars have always included the invasion and control of cities (Graham 2004), thus ceasing the need to make any further theoretical arguments on that ground.

However, given the current rapid worldwide urbanisation, it seems essential to apply the concept of New Wars in-depth to the urban context, complicating the puzzle suggested by Kaldor. Shaw (2004), for example, identifies contemporary cities as a place of conflict because they host much of the economic and political power that fuels wars. He also notes that cities are vulnerable as they are no longer surrounded by fortresses or have army barracks to defend them. Their complexes terroirs and high-density are also difficult to surveil, making urban spaces a reasonable easy target for terrorist attacks, a recurrent feature of New Wars.

Yet, it seems naïve to label the urban landscape as exclusively vulnerable in the conflictual context. At the same time, it creates challenges and generates opportunities for actors. Graham (2004) notes that in New Urban Wars infrastructure becomes a weapon with the construction and destruction of sewage systems, electricity cables and roads in the city. And so, agents are able to fight wars more efficiently by disarming opponents of their basic modern needs, resembling the strategy used by Rio’s government in preparation for mega events (Huberman & Nasser 2019).

3.2. In the Middle of Urban Conflict

Cities are spaces where difference meets. Religions, ethnicities, generations and classes come together in these confined areas (Sandercock 2017). It becomes imperative to question then, how these variations impact the experiences of the civilian in urban wars, especially in relation to socio-economic class given that resources are important in the New War typology (Kaldor 2012). A large body of literature has investigated economically-disadvantaged populations appointing the group as prone to suffer from violence consequential to the lack of resources to

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buy or politically-demand protection (Lemanski 2004; Penglase 2011; Moser 1997; Muggah and Mulli 2012).

On the other end, elites are often described as capable of advocating for police patrolling their neighbourhoods and resourceful to buy services and equipment ensuring their safety or perception of safety (Coy 2006; Sandercock 2017; Nightingale 2012:207; Holston 2008; Shaw & Gastrow 2001). A recurrent argument in the literature reflects the impact of gated communities offering such “protection” for the elites. Condominiums are said to homogenize social interaction, assisting racist elites in reducing their interaction with other ethnicities (Lemanski 2004) or with lower classes (Sandercock 2017), and curtailing trust among socio-economic classes in a given society (Rodgers 2004; Low 2004; Moser 2004).

It is noticeable within the contemporary urban debate a binary of economic extremes, creating a knowledge-gap – discussed in the next segment – that poorly analyses the urban middle-class (Lemanski 2017). When mentioned, the group is often portrayed as having similar urban violence experiences as the elites: gated communities, private security services and using cars to avoid class-based violence (Graham 2004; Shaw 2004; Nightingale 2012). Both groups are also connected by victimization through their assets, as opposed to the lower class, which is victimized through their bodies (Scheper-Hughes 2004:175; Lemanski 2004; Caldeira 2000:53).

3.2.1. The Middle-Class in New Urban Wars

The literature on middle-class in urban conflict is scarce. One topic briefly discussed points to the group as perpetrators of conflict. Bernasconi (2013), on a structural argument, suggests the middle-class as violent towards the working-class simply because it appropriates resources that would, otherwise, be available to them. Meeks (2006) defends that middle-class articulates power to have politicians fighting wars in convenient manners for the group to be safe, resulting in fatalities among the poor. Finally, Shaw (2004), McIlwaine and Moser (2001) argue that resources available to the middle-class allows them to move

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from central urban areas when low-intensity war is perceived, reinforcing the notion of an existing conflict in need to be fought and spaces to be avoided.

I acknowledge that class dynamics foment violence to a certain dimension. Urban violence scholars have long identified a positive relationship between violence and inequality in urban spaces (Morenoff, Sampson and Raudenbush 2001; Müller 1985). Yet, appointing the middle-class solely as perpetrator is a reductionist answer to a complex problem. All people dwelling in urban conflict want to avoid violence independent of class, making them all victims to an extent (Hayeck 2009).

The literature discussing victimization briefly includes the middle-class as well, appointing the group as more economically resourceful with enhanced ability to flee. Turner (2015) noted that middle-class Iraqis were able to plan their war-escape and better articulate to use professional skills to stay within cities in Jordan, as opposed to settling in refugee camps in which their occupations could have had become obsolete. Similarly, Kirkegaard and Nat-George (2016:99) appoint that class membership facilitate fleeing urban conflict, indicating a growing trend among middle-class students absconding New Wars by enrolling in educational training in the Global North.

Another debate tackles those middle-class individuals staying back within conflict, particularly analysing the impact of socio-economic position in the construction of meaning. Stray bullets, for example, are seen by the middle-class as a sign of how urban violence has crossed the boundaries of “normal” in Rio, while for lower-incomers, the same phenomenon is used to safely articulate concerns against drug cartels and police (Penglase 2011). This differentiation in the allocation of meaning also becomes evident on the mechanisms of protection. The middle-class seems to proclaim cameras and gates as belonging to their domain, criticizing (through the media) the use of the equipment in poor neighbourhoods (Vargas 2006).

These nuances indicate that socio-economic status enables one to buy “middle-level” security locally or abroad and that middle-class belonging impacts ones perceptions of violence and fear in conflicts. Yet, the scope of the above findings is rather limited given the lack of literature on the topic. The next

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segment goes beyond socio-economic segmentation to grasp previous studies on civilians fear in urban conflicts to better inform the Discussion chapter found later.

3.3. Civilian Fear in Urban Conflict

Three main debates are preeminent within the literature of fear among civilians: changes to the social fabric, coping strategies and the “reality” of fear. Regarding the latter, Meeks (2006) and Tulumello (2015) suggest that individuals may fear without facing much risk. However, if violence is understood beyond the constraints of the physical body and reach social structures or the psyche (Galtung 1969; Scheper-Hughes and Bourgois 2004), proximity to risk is not essential in the perpetuation of fear. It is also important to remember that violence is not static, nor is fear consistent in its span (Moser 2004).

Living among recurrent violence increases the chances of one fearing (Taussig 1989), and intensifies the experiences of civilians (Maček 2009). Evidence of such fear is found in the bodies and the minds of those violated (Green 2004) and in the analysis of group bounding according to shared-fears in relation to The Other – those understood as perpetrators or enemies (Maček 2009; Lemanski 2004). Fear among civilians is also said to be aggravated in conflicts where states are unable to control violence (Scheper-Hughes 2004).

Several other aspects seem to inform fear. The most obvious is violence itself. Its uncertainty seems to shape fear because people do not know what to expect from social interaction with others (Moser 2004; Taussig 1989). This ambiguity perpetuates rumours within ones’ mind (Scheper-Hughes 2004), which in additional to exposure to different forms of media discussing violence, are likely to foment fear for those living close to armed conflict (Maček 2009; Lemanski 2004).

It also said that, particularly in societies with long-standing war, collective memory nudges people into fear given knowledge of past violence in the community (Green 2004). All of this indicates that fear in conflict is a complex combination of social, psychological, sociological, economic and

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political elements (Sandercock 2017). A comprehensive conceptualization of these aspects can be found in the Theoretical Framework chapter.

In the second theme discussed in the literature, authors have explored the changes urban wars cause to the social fabric. Solidarity and trust seem to erode among civilians fearing, arousing suspicious judgments of others (McIlwaine and Moser 2001; Esser 2004). Life-long friendships may cease because of political disagreement (Maček 2009) and social capital may be re-valued according to conflict dynamics (McIlwaine and Moser 2001). For example, knowing you may have lesser value now than before.

Yet, friendships and connections formed during war period that manage to overcome scepticism are specially bounded by the shared experiences of fear (Maček 2009). These friendships are understood in a ”new-ethical” context, in which moral judgments of peacetime are re-adjusted to the reality of war (Maček 2009; Esser 2004). Crime, particularly stealing, becomes more of a tool for survival and a constant reality (McIlwaine and Moser 2001; Maček 2009). Association with perverse institutions, such as criminal organizations and dubious state agents, ensure survival until another alliance needs to be forged to reduce fear and risk (McIlwaine and Moser 2001; Scheper-Hughes 2004; Wood & Gough 2006).

The so-called normalization of violence, and reinforcement of fear, occurs through personal interactions (Maček 2009), symbols and language (Green 2004). Civilians in conflict grow used to camouflage clothing and guns that gradually permeate the everyday “pockets of peace” (Taussig 1989). Civilians also have some level of agency, externalized through behaving like there is no conflict or by being pragmatic to adapt to the “new normal” and manage their fears (Kelly 2008; Maček 2009). But tt becomes hard to reach that “peacetime normality” when violence and fear have long functioned as central pole to maintain social order in these urban conflicts (Scheper-Hughes 2004).

In this case, the question of coping with fear and violence becomes a key-element of survival amidst conflict – and the last main theme found within the literature. It is essential to understand these “civilian tactics” as a mere coping mechanism as opposed to full tactics, their existence is more reactive than

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proactive of conflict (Fluri 2011). Non-combatants will use the tools available to them to ensure safety, such as dressing and behaving according to the contextual “rules” (ibid.) and choose to be silent about perpetrators and experiences of violence (Green 2004).

Depending on the circumstances, they may also find comfort in the opposite, and in fact, talk about it at length (Caldeira 2000). In this case, information is exchanged among family and friends to avoid fearful experiences through unsafe routes (Fluri 2011) and enable civilians to keep the superficial “normality” – even boredom – of their lives in war (Kelly 2008; Maček 2009). Yet, some places perceived as dangerous are certainly avoided whenever possible (Penglase 2011; Garmany 2011). When they are inevitable, the precautions taken to increase safety may include using the “right mode” of transport (Graham 2004; Fluri 2011). It may be a bulletproof car, if available, or even a beaten-up one that diverges attention from the vehicle. What seems important is to “read the space” and behave according to its modus operandi to increase self-confidence and reduce fear.

Consequential to these shifts of spatial “perceived safety”, cities in conflicts often see dynamic housing markets valuing property according to sites of violence (Esser 2004; Muggah and Mulli 2012; Cummings 2015). To live in safer areas becomes more expensive than in violent places. This implicates an economic burden to civilians fearing, which may trade their safety/properties according to the resources available. It also reinforces the idea that with upward mobility civilians are likely to spend more to ensure safety (Low 2004).

However, not everything is about money. Civilians in war often reach to the super-natural, ranging from mysticism to well-established religions to manage fears – even if they are not believers (Scheper-Hughes 2004; Maček 2009). They may also try to find reasons to laugh by making fun of their own fears through humour (Penglase 2011; Taussig 1989) or expressing themselves through art and cultural activities, which often upsurge in times of conflict (Maček 2009).

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4. Theoretical framework

This chapter introduces the epistemological assumptions of the phenomenological approach implemented here and conceptualize violence and fear within this school’s framework.

4.1. Phenomenology

“I think, therefore I am” said Descartes, incubating a complex set of meaning (Moustakas 1994:26). The sentence interlinked one’s existence with its ability to consciously acknowledge existence and question its state. Husserl, influenced by this philosophical thinking, developed a framework facilitating the comprehension of Descartes that guides enquiries aiming to grasp the relationship between consciousness and the objects one interacts with (Creswell 2007:58).

There are three key concepts essential for the comprehension of Phenomenology. Intentionality refers to the self-consciousness required for one to say “I am” – to use Descartes words (Moustakas 1994:28). The term grasps that internalized feeling of sensing pleasure, sadness or anxiety, which all require the initial recognition that one exists, and so I/she/he/it is able to feel something else. Consequently, Intentionality depends on the relationships and judgments of something else or, in the discipline terms, an object external to the mind (ibid.:50).

The interpretation of this object, which is not necessarily physical, is done in the self-mind through two stages conceptualized into Noema and Noesis. The Noematic state brings the mind to the analysis of the specific object, in the case of Descartes, it could be myself identifying the parts of the body that are there (Moustakas 1994:69). The Noetic state occurs with the acknowledgement that those body parts are “I” and perceived or thought about it in a certain way.

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Departing from these three concepts, it is possible to demonstrate the ontological assumptions implemented here. The first is that the unit of analysis of the phenomenological approach is the lived experience. Processes of meaning are created through an organic fluid-flow between Intentionality, Noema and Noesis resulting in Perceptions of things (Creswell 2007:58). Reality, therefore, is dualist, shaped both by the individual mind and the objects (e.g. things, other individuals, ideas, phenomenon, etc.) experienced. Consequently, avoiding perceptions and the experiences that certain objects induce is not possible as the mind always “looks” for interactions (Steinbock 2004).

It also becomes noticeable that reality is closely connected to the individual. The stable nature of reality, in the positivist sense, does not fit within this tradition (Creswell 2007:58). Any assumptions about the “natural” world needs a fundamental ground based on the common experiences of individuals living within society (Moustakas 1994:57). That is not to say that science cannot exist, it certainly does when the dynamics between the self and the experiences of interpretation of objects are similar and recurrent among the many self-realities experiencing the same phenomenon. Research for the discipline, therefore, should explore, describe and test human behaviour while simultaneously considering the lived experiences that shape the human condition at larger scale (ibid.:46).

Achieving a significant science for this tradition requires self-analysis from the researcher, in which her/his previous experiences and contexts relevant to the phenomenon are brought forward (Creswell 2007:61). This process, called

Epoche, seeks to assist the enquirer in identifying the pre-assumptions about the

phenomenon that is to be studied (Moustakas 1994:27). It is better performed at the beginning of research, which is the reason the Letter to the Self was presented at the Introduction chapter. After the Epoche, the researcher should be better able to see and evaluate the phenomenon scientifically, given consciousness of potential biases.

There are two ways to go about the Phenomenological enquire (Creswell 2007:59). Data can be analysed hermeneutically, relying on the interpretation of the meaning of the experiences, placing greater focus on understanding the phenomenon itself. Alternatively, Transcendental Phenomenology attempts to the

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mere descriptive analysis of common themes found within the narrated experiences of the Selves (Moustakas 1994:45). Given the concerns of this research with the relationship between self/phenomenon, as opposed to the phenomenon itself, a transcendental approach will be implemented and well noticed in the heavy, descriptive Results chapter.

4.2. Towards a Phenomenology of Violence and

Fear

Explaining violence from a transcendental phenomenological perspective requires the analysis of the self and the object that, through their dynamics, substantiate violence into lived experiences (Dodd 2013:40). Yet, the nature forming the phenomenon varies according to the philosophers debating the topic. Levinas suggests that every experience embeds violence when the materialized self interprets the object as violent (Evink 2013:69). Within the “violent reality” you call me out, and I decide whether that was violent or not. The issue is that this preposition grants violence a central presence within the dynamics, making non-violence impossible to achieve.

Derrida’s interpretation recognizes the omnipresence of violence within the dynamism of experiences as well, but places the origins of violence beyond the self, at the interpretation of the language that informs violence (Evink 2013:79). In a “non-violent reality” you call me out and I, depending on the means or language used, and informed by historical references within myself, would “decide” whether violence existed in the dynamic. The positive aspect is that violence becomes delimited by the means in which it is carried, increasing possibilities for non-violent interaction.

The latter explanation also facilitates the communication of violent acts. E.g. I can find specific words that are connected to violent dynamics. It does not, however, explain what constitutes it. Galtung (1969:3) argues that violence is broad, in which a full conceptualization becomes counterproductive, suggesting instead, a typology that reduces its materialization to the mechanism “delivering” violence. The sub-classifications of direct, structural and cultural violence may

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prove efficient in classifying and/or comparing research indicating some clear examples of violence, like rape, murder or racial discrimination. Yet, its looseness obstructs the inductive research process in lesser-explored fields, given it does not offer a clear operational framework into unknown types of violence.

That is why this research will adopt simultaneously a broader and a restrained conceptualization. It will assume that violence is in the eye of the beholder (Scheper-Hughes and Bourgois 2004:2), but in respect to the phenomenological dialectic proposed by Derrida, these eyes will be, metaphysically speaking, on the means used for the dynamic instead of the agent/object. The conceptualization is broad because it leaves co-researchers free to communicate what their self-realities understand as violence at the moment, grasping the evolving character of the phenomenon (Moser 2004).

I also include in the understanding of violence their perceptions and experiences of crime and conflict within the city, as Moser (2004) suggests. In amplifying the concept, it grasps the holistic perspective that Meeks (2006) indicates as necessary to capture all the dynamics of urban violence. And takes in consideration that crime, conflict and urban violence, simultaneously, overlap and sparkle threats to the physical health, in addition to shift collective history and morals that inform what one interprets as violence (Bernasconi 2013).

However, violence conceptualization is also constrained and occurs based on social dynamics closely connected to an abrupt disintegration of possibilities and extinguishing life informed by past historical and moral references (Dodd 2013:44). The perception of violence has a biological aspect (e.g. fear of death), but also roots itself through the judgment of social rules in the context in which the self makes sense of her/his reality (Moustakas 1994:57). If the question, “Is this gun dangerous?” is posed, answers will vary among civilians in times of war in contrast to those hunting.

Yet, when violence happens the natural cognitive response results in the feeling of fear, a reaction closely connected to the uncertainty brought by violence (Moser 2004). It is a fundamental emotion to any sentimental self and is said to be irrational and always referent to something else (Gold and Revill 2003) – in this case violence. Fear’s existence is also interlinked with the ability of the self with

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(or without) the help of others, in preventing real or psychological possibilities of victimization. And, it occurs in an inverse relationship to safety (Greenberg 1986:51). E.g. the safer one feels, the less likely she/he is likely to feel fear.

The bodily sensations of fear seem to not be linear – it comes and goes (Taussig 1989). They are comprised of terror, uneasiness and annoyance according to Bannister and Fyfe (2011:2); ranging from anxiety to panic and terror to Cottee (2011); or limited by panic, because in such stage the self loses control over its relation to the object (Blum 1996).

What these discrepancies demonstrate is that fear is complex to pin down, something Gold and Revill (2003) had argued previously. There are many obscured in-betweens of categories that a restraining concept would miss (Moser 2004; Bannister and Fyre (2001). Fear is, therefore, interpreted inductively, including the possibilities mentioned above, but not restrained by them. Its scope, however, is delimited to responses of experiences of violence (as defined above) and perceived through one's reality of “control” in her/his interaction with different objects.

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5. Method, Data and Research Ethics

The following text discusses method and data used to address the research questions and elaborate on the ethical issues emerging from these processes.

5.1. Method and Data

The use of semi-structured interviews was consequential to the phenomenological framework suggested by Creswell (2007:61). He indicates the method as most capable in gathering data that demonstrates individuals’ experience of a phenomenon, here used in addition to the Caldeira’s (2000) advice: violence’s ephemerality hinders its first hand experience in ethnography, making interviews valuable in the investigation of the topic.

The methodology implemented also suggests two main questions adaptable to the researched context (Creswell 2007:61). Co-researchers should be asked, accordingly, what and in which context they have experienced fear of violence in Rio. This, however, seemed too little to engage them in creating the descriptions needed for a transcendental phenomenological study (Moustakas 1994:45). To create an interview guide based on previous literature, I resonated, could have also compromised the topics covered, given research has not yet dedicated enough attention to the middle-class. I opted for investigating the background of the conflict first and break the methodological questions into smaller ones for the co-researchers to make comparisons on places and violences feared, and juxtapose literature and results in the Discussion chapter.

“Which neighbourhoods do they circulate within the city? Which of them did they fear the most and why?” Were some of the broken down questions used

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questions concerning, for example, their perceived fears regarding the strategies implemented by the police in that region. The interview guide helped me to formulate similarly worded questions, but I also moved away from it to explore aspects that could help to answer the research questions. A copy of the Interview Guide is found in Appendix 1.

The data collection process occurred mostly through phone calls on WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger. Initially, I felt discouraged of using the mechanism because I would miss important visual clues (Irvine, Drew and Sainsbury 2013) or feared that the quality of information would not be adequate for the research (Bryman 2012:215). But, the adoption of low-cost voice calls enabled me to complete the study with considerably fewer resources.

I tried to overcome the cons of telephone interviews with the advice of Trier-Bieniek (2012) and framed them through a participatory process. Co-researchers had the opportunity to choose the location, time and terms for data collection. I communicated their participation and engagement as essential for the project. Appendix 2 is a copy of the flyer used to promote and explain the project to participants.

One participant preferred to use a mix of audio and written messages, and all the other ten interviewees had an arranged call. The shortest one lasted over ten minutes, the longest went over an hour, averaging about thirty-three minutes per call. With lack of comparative means, I can only speculate if calls would be longer if face-to-face interviews were used (Bryman 2012:215), although I certainly felt that people were to the point when talking on the phone (Irvine et. al 2013). The interviews were conducted in Portuguese, the mother tongue of all participants, and then transcribed verbatim by me (also a native speaker).

Having easy access to the co-researchers through the phone made possible to clarify questions arising in the analytical process. I felt comfortable highlighting significant sentences, statements and quotes that had direct reference to the research questions in the transcripts and later allocated them into clusters of meaning (Creswell 2007:61). I then divided clusters according to the question they answered, following Moustakas’ (1994) methodology, and wrote the Results chapter in a comprehensive and fluid text as suggested by him (ibid.:134),

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inserting the clusters along the way. Appendix 3 shows the cluster allocation in details. When necessary, my own words within parentheses were added to facilitate the reader’s contextual understanding of co-researchers’ quotes.

The first question addressed in the Results chapter consisted of a Textural

Description tackling what the participants felt about the phenomenon in relation

to their bodies. In the Structural Description you will find the context or situations that influence fear of violence among the co-researchers. And in The Essence of Fear of Violence I attempted to create, from the results of the first two segments, a descriptive text summarizing the common experiences of fear of violence among the middle-class individuals interviewed. In my urge to write the passage in first person to enhance your understanding, I sought validation of its draft among the interviewees (Colaizzi 1978). The process, facilitated by the phone and texting technologies mentioned above, will be examined later on the Discussion chapter.

Regarding the selection of co-researchers, I wanted to recruit on a criterion-sampling basis to ensure data from people living in different zones of the city. My investigation of the conflict made me aware that the urban zones had evolved distinctly throughout the years (Nightingale 2012), which I assumed could impact one’s experiences of violence according to the area of residence. I entered several Facebook groups formed to unite residents of specific zones/suburbs and posted Appendix 2 inviting for interviews.

The unsuccessfulness of my initial strategy led me to seek among my personal acquaintances possible interviewees. I reached six people from distinct middle-class social contexts and asked them to indicate two to three people that fear violence in Rio, whether possible, from discording genders and contrasting ages to amplify what I thought could be important variables in diminishing the polarizing impact of snowballing. Gender, because I am aware from my previous engagement with urban mobility research in Rio that women are more likely to fear, especially, Gender Based Violence (GBV) (Segat and Ignacio, forthcoming); and, age, because I thought different life cycles could lead to the experience of the city at different times of the day and spaces.

Of all interviews recorded between March 2019 and May 2019, there were four males and seven females aged between twenty-five and sixty-two years

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(average 37,5). Four interviewees lived in the West Zone (Green), three in the South Zone (Yellow), three in the North Zone (Blue) and one in the central area (Red), as depicted in Figure 1.

It was crucial as well to delineate a working definition of middle-class. I considered using income per capita in the household grouped by minimum-income rates, a measurement adopted by the Brazilian National Statistics Institute (IBGE) and several academics to discuss the national context (Salata 2015). But, such classification was more concerned in delimiting income brackets than, the performance of “middle-classness” (Neri 2012). In measuring by current income, I could have missed those that have long-term investments, for example, or those with social and cultural capital capable of providing some form of safety (Savage 2015). E.g. living in an inherited apartment in a safer zone.

In searching for better criteria, I decided to accept that those self-entitled “in the middle” were relevant for the research if over legal age (18+ years) and had lived in Rio for at least two consecutive years since 2016. I am aware that people tend to claim middle-classness despite belonging to lower or upper socio-economic classes (Savage 2015), which caused me to turn down interviews with high paying and overly prestigious occupations, like doctors and lawyers. I also ensured a relevant sample by only interviewing people with tertiary education, another splitting factor between lower and middle-class in Brazil (McCowan 2004). Project coordinator, accountant, IT staff and designer were some of the occupations held by the co-researchers.

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5.2. Research Ethics

In questioning the need to study fear of violence among the middle-class, I asked myself if the resources used in this study would be better applied to cater for those at the front-line of the conflict. However, secure that an embryonic, but existent debate is already materializing on their issues, the next step seemed to explore the harm caused by the urban violence for those in the middle of the social ladder.

It was essential to cause no further harm to the co-researchers and compliance with the European Federation of Academies of Sciences and Humanities (ALLEA 2017) and Conselho Nacional de Saúde (CEP 1996) ethical guidelines was sought – the latter being the Brazilian national ethics committee for research involving humans. Following their instructions, the participants were made aware of the research aim and objectives beforehand (Appendix 2) to ensure informed consent, and were told they could withdraw from it at any time. The terms of participation read over the phone to all participants can be found in Appendix 1.

Following Trier-Bieniek (2012), I researched public counselling services closer to interviewees’ homes in case any became distressed in talking about their fear of violence – none required the contact. Given my ability to contact the co-researchers through WhatsApp and Facebook, I also self-committed to not contact the participants if they had not replied to my previous message – occurred three times in the post-interview process. This procedure aimed to clear any misunderstandings in my interpretation of the data and reduce any unintentional finding falsification.

The reader will note the omitted names in the results. I opted to identify co-researchers by their gender (F/female and M/male) and age to ensure anonymity. The data is silent on non-binary or trans folks (all the interviewees were cis-gendered) and none were either very young or elderly, restricting the findings to the groups interviewed. The audios and transcriptions are available in cloud storage upon request, and can be used to verify the findings of this research; or could, perhaps, be useful in future comparative research including the missing voices that this small-scale study did not hear.

Figure

Figure 1 - Rio's Zoning Map
Figure 2 - Post in Facebook Group Dedicated to  Violence

References

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