Rio's “Narco-Pentecostal” gangs use religion to dominate favelas

When the police in Rio de Janeiro confiscated blocks of cocaine and bundles of marijuana, they could find them marked with a religious symbol – the Star of David. This is not a reference to the Jewish faith, but to the belief of some Pentecostal Christians that the return of the Jews to Israel will lead to the Second Coming of Christ.

The gang selling these brand-name drugs is Pure Third Command, one of Rio's most powerful criminal groups, with a reputation both for making opponents disappear and for fanatical evangelical Christianity.

They took control of a group of five favelas in the north of the city — now known as the Israel Compound — after one of their leaders received what he believed to be a revelation from God, says theologian Vivian Costa, author of the book, Evangelical Drug Dealerships.

She says gangsters see themselves as “soldiers of crime” and Jesus “owns” the territory they dominate.

Controversially, some have called them “narco-Pentecostals.”

One man who has experience with crime and religion—though in his case, not at the same time—is pastor Diego Nascimento, who became a Christian after hearing the gospel from a gun-wielding gangster.

Looking at him, it's hard to believe that this boyish-looking 42-year-old Wesleyan Methodist priest with a ready smile and dimples was once a member of Rio's notorious Red Command crime gang, running its operations in the city's Villa Kennedy favela.

Four years in prison for drug dealing was not enough to give up crime. But when he became addicted to crack cocaine, his standing in the gang plummeted.

“I lost my family. I practically lived on the streets for almost a year. I got as far as selling stuff from my house to buy crack,” he says.

It was at this point, when he was at rock bottom, that a well-known drug dealer in the favela called him.

“He started preaching to me, saying that there is a way out, that there is a solution for me, which is to accept Jesus,” he recalled.

The young addict took this advice and began his journey to the pulpit.

Pastor Nascimento still spends time with criminals, but now through his work in prisons, where he helps people turn their lives around, as he did.

Although he was converted by a gangster, he found the idea of ​​religious criminals a contradiction in terms.

“I don't see them as evangelicals,” he says.

“I see them as people who are on the wrong path and fear God because they know that God is the one who guards their lives.

“There is no such thing as combining the two, being an evangelist and a thug. If a person accepts Jesus and follows the commandments of the Bible, that person cannot be a drug dealer.”

According to some forecasts, evangelical Christianity will overtake Catholicism as the largest religion in Brazil by the end of the decade.

As it has grown, the charismatic Pentecostal movement has particularly resonated with people living in gang-ridden favelas, and some of these gangs are now drawing on elements of the faith they grew up with to wield power.

One charge against them is that they use violence to suppress Afro-Brazilian religions.

Cristina Vital, a professor of sociology at Fluminense Federal University in Rio, says poor communities in Rio have long lived “under siege” by criminal gangs and this is now affecting their freedom of religion.

“In the Israel Compound, people with other religious beliefs cannot be seen practicing them in public. It is not an exaggeration to speak of religious intolerance in this territory.”

Vital says the Afro-Brazilian Umbanda and Candomblé religious houses are also closed in surrounding neighborhoods, with gangsters sometimes painting messages on the walls such as “Jesus is the master of this place.”

Followers of Afro-Brazilian religions have long faced prejudice, and drug dealers aren't the only people who have targeted them.

But Dr Rita Salim, who heads the Racial Crimes and Intolerance Unit at the Rio police, says threats and attacks by drug gangs have a particularly strong impact.

“These cases are more serious because they are imposed by a criminal organization, by a group and its leader that instills fear in the entire territory it dominates.

She notes that an arrest warrant has been issued for the man believed to be the number one crime boss in the Israeli Compound for ordering gunmen to attack an Afro-Brazilian temple in another favela.

While allegations of religious extremism in Rio's favelas first gained attention in the early 2000s, the problem has “increased dramatically” in recent years, according to Marcio de Jagun, religious diversity coordinator at Rio City Hall.

Jagun, who is the babalorixa (high priest) of the Candomblé religion, says the problem is now national, with similar attacks seen in other Brazilian cities.

“It's a form of neo-crusade,” he says. “The prejudice behind these attacks is both religious and ethnic, with criminals demonizing religions from Africa and claiming to drive out evil in the name of God.”

But religion and crime have long been intertwined in Brazil, says theologian Vivian Costa. In the past, gangsters sought protection from Afro-Brazilian deities and Catholic saints.

“If we look at the birth of the Red Command or the birth of the Third Command, the Afro-religions (and Catholicism) were there from their beginning. We see the presence of Saint George, the presence of (Afro-Brazilian god) Ògún, the tattoos, the crucifixes, the candles, the offerings.

“That's why to call him a narco-Pentecostal is to diminish that connection that is so historic and traditional between crime and religion. I prefer to call it “narco-religiosity”.

Whatever you call this mix of faith and crime, one thing seems clear: it threatens a right enshrined in Brazil's constitution – that of religious freedom.

And this is yet another way in which brutal drug traffickers harm the communities forced to live under their rule.