With the growth of evangelicals in Brazil, trafficking networks linked to religion are also growing — with little tolerance for other beliefs.
When Rio de Janeiro police seize bricks of cocaine or bags of cannabis in anti-trafficking operations in Rio de Janeiro, they may find a new brand stamping these illegal products: Star of David.
The religious symbol is not there in reference to the Jewish faith, but rather reflects the evangelical belief that the return of Jews to Israel will result in the second appearance of Jesus Christ.
The faction known for trafficking drugs in this new guise is the Third Pure Command (TCP), one of the most powerful criminal groups in Rio — which controls drug trafficking in the Israel Complex and is notorious both for forced disappearances and for its strong evangelical beliefs.
The most visible expression of the faith of this criminal group is the neon blue Star of David installed on top of a water tank in Parada de Lucas, the first of five communities in the North Zone of the capital of Rio de Janeiro that were progressively controlled by the group, and which From 2016 onwards, they began to form the so-called Israel complex.
The complex is made up of the communities Parada de Lucas, Cidade Alta, Pica-pau, Cinco Bocas and Vigário Geral.
The territory was taken after a TCP leader had what he believed to be a divine revelationaccording to theologian and pastor Vivian Costa, author of the book Evangélico Traffickers – Who are and who do God’s new criminals serve (2023).
According to Costa, the drug dealers in the area see themselves as “soldiers of Jesus” and call themselves Aaron’s Troopreference to Moses’ oldest brother.
Anyone arriving by train at Parada de Lucas will see the Israeli flag right on the station platform, on the sign that greets: “Welcome to Complexo Israel.”
This territory became synonymous with the advancement of evangelical faith among criminals and restrictions imposed on believers of other religionsespecially those of African origin.
“Both demonstrations in public and private spaces were prohibited from existing in these territories, with many Umbanda and Candomblé houses destroyed and burned,” says Costa.
In these places, the faction leaves its signature and domain mark: “Jesus owns the place“.
However, according to anthropologist Ana Paula Miranda, professor at the Fluminense Federal University (UFF), this way of working has spread throughout Brazil, with attacks on Umbanda and Candomblé terreiros replicated by drug traffickers in favelas in other metropolises, such as Fortaleza and Salvador — and not just in TCP territories.
“This is not just a problem in Rio. It has become a problem of big cities“, says Miranda, who coordinates Ginga-UFF, a research group dedicated to conflicts of an ethnic, racial and religious nature.
Miranda talks about “traficrentes” to describe the phenomenon. There are those who refer to narco-pentecostals or evangelical drug dealers. These are denominations that arouse controversy, not only due to the very nature of the terms, but also due to the incompatibility that many see between following this faith and leading a life of crime.
“Life under siege”
The evangelical population in Brazil has increased rapidly, and there are projections that indicate that it could surpass that of Catholics in the next decade, becoming part of the main religious group in the country.
As the evangelical presence increases in society, the capillarity and charismatic style, especially of neo-Pentecostal denominations, make their presence significant in outskirts and favelas. The criminals who often exercise control over these places are not exempt from this influence.
According to Christina Vital, professor of sociology at UFF, the “siege” for community residents has tightened on multiple levels — political, territorial, emotional, consumer.
In the case of the Israel Complex, there is a siege on religion, which occurs in a “very significant” way.
“Residents there can profess other religions, but without giving them visibility”, says Vital, who coordinates the Laboratory of Socio-Anthropological Studies in Politics, Art and Religion (Lepar/UFF).
In July of this year, there were reports published in the press that some Catholic parishes in the North Zone of Rio had suffered reprisals and canceled masses and activities, which the Archdiocese of Rio de Janeiro denied.
“Neocrusade”
Cases of religious extremism linked to drug trafficking in Rio’s communities began to raise alarm in the early 2000s.
But the problem has dramatically increasedaccording to babalorixá Márcio de Jagun, head of the Religious Diversity Coordination of Rio de Janeiro City Hall.
Jagun says the problem has been spreading across Brazil, with attacks of the type seen in other cities.
“This is a neocrusade shape“, says Jagun. “The prejudice behind these attacks is religious and ethnic, discriminating against African-based religions that have been demonized for 500 years, with outlaws claiming to want to banish evil in the name of God.”
But religion and crime have always been intertwined in Brazil, emphasizes theologian Vivian Costa. In the past, traffickers asked Afro-Brazilian entities and Catholic saints for protection.
“If we look at the birth of the Comando Vermelho and then the Tercero Comando and the TCP, the presence of Catholicism and Afro religions are there since its genesis“, he describes.
“We will see the presence of Saint George, the presence of Ogun, the closed bodies, the tattoos, the guides, the crucifixes, the cults, the candles, the offerings. Therefore, calling it narco-pentecostalism is reducing this very present, so solid, so historical and traditional relationship between crime and religion.”
Costa prefers to speak in a “narcoreligiosity“, encompassing a relationship between religion and trafficking that has always existed and has now been reconfigured to encompass evangelical belief, a reflection of the space and expression it has gained in society.
A rifle and the Bible
Pastor Diego Nascimento is an example of another dimension in the relationship between religion and crime: that of the exit door.
The pastor became a Christian after hearing the gospel preached by another drug dealer, wielding a rifle.
It’s hard to imagine that the 42-year-old pastor of the Wesleyan Methodist Church, with a youthful manner, an easy smile and dimples, was once the DG of Vila Kennedy, head of drug trafficking in the community where he was born and raised, in the West Zone of Rio, where he acted as the local arm of Comando Vermelho.
Birth almost passed four years in prison for drug trafficking, arrested for carrying more than 200 envelopes of cocaine.
But prison did not dissuade him from a life of crime. It was crack that led to a dead end: was consumed by addiction and lost the trust of the criminal organization.
“I lost my family, I went to drugs, I lived on the street for almost a year. I got to the point of selling things from inside the house to use crack”, he says.
When he was at rock bottom, a drug dealer with authority in the community called him.
“I arrived all dirty and he started talking about Jesus to me. He said that that wasn’t a life for me, and that when he got involved in drug trafficking, he looked up to me and wanted to be like me”, he recalls.
“He started preaching and saying that there was still a way for me, that I just had to accept Jesus. And there I took an attitude of go to a church.”
The young addict followed the drug dealer’s advice and looked for a church, beginning his journey to the pulpit. The drug dealer who preached with a rifle has already died, like other friends that Pastor Diego saw being taken away by crime.
The pastor still spends time with criminals, but today, it is through his work preaching in the prisons of the Bangu Complex, where he tries to help other people to change their lives, giving their own testimony as an example of what is possible.
Despite having converted thanks to a drug dealer, Pastor Diego considers, like several others who follow this same faith, that the idea of evangelical criminals is a contradiction in terms.
“I don’t see them as people who think they are evangelical,” says the pastor. “If a person accepts Jesus and follows the biblical commandments, can’t be in traffic.”
