Violence, Masculinity, and Policeman with a capital ‘P' Toxic masculinity in Brazilian Law enforcement
By Miriam Cruz
It was an evening in mid-July, when three policemen arrived at Santo António, county in the Brazilian state of Rio Grande do Norte. A woman stood outside her home, waiting for them, holding her toddler in her arms. She’d called after her brother had become aggressive, breaking and trowing things. The officers from the local PM—Military Police—headed inside the house, but their intentions must have been clear to the woman, who, following them, urged them not to beat her brother. The policemen were angered by her intervention, and an argument broke out. A video that neighbours filmed caught the quarrel: the officers threatening to hit her, calling her a “bitch,” the woman trying to defend herself, protesting back, yet, that only enraged them further. One of the officers pushed her outside, the child still in her arms, and proceeded to repeatedly hit her.
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For some years, Brazil has seen a peculiar development in regards to the occurrence of violence against women. Although the overall number of murders has declined, the number of femicides, which are murders specifically motivated by hate of women, has risen. Reports of domestic violence, of which the majority of the victims are women, have also increased.
There seem to be two possibilities for this growth.
Firstly, of course, the very real increase in occurrences, not just cases that were reported to authorities. Particularly since Bolsonaro entered the public eye, circa 2017, exposure to his unabashed misogyny, and the social and economic turmoil that have marked his term as president, are likely to have encouraged harmful behaviours and worsened bad situations.
Yet, there is a second possible justification. That this increase also reflects the slow uncovering of a reality that was already there, kept hidden within the home.
In 2015, Juliana Martins, a member of the FBSP (Brazilian Forum for Public Safety) teamed up with a Professor from England, Fiona Macauley, to introduce the issue of domestic violence into the education of Brazilian police officers. The initiative was meant to help them recognise and comprehend these cases of targeted violence, thus classifying them correctly, bringing visibility to the taboo issue of domestic abuse. Yet, progress remains mixed.
A step forward is taken by making the punishment for abusers less lenient, yet, its effects are muted when of the 16500 reports of domestic violence in 2019, only 6% of the assaulters are apprehended. Another step is taken by instituting this educational program, widening their capacity for comprehensive analysis of an incident. However, the way in which abusers are approached remains unchanged. The violence that exists at the core of the issue is not challenged. Take for example the case of Rio Grande, above described. The officers were prepared to use the same mechanism of brutality as the abuser himself, to instil their own authority.
If the institution can’t meaningfully respond to three of its own officers abusing their power, having merely demoted them to administrative functions, it can’t be trusted to address other abusers. Yet, does this surprise us, when the forces meant to tackle them are simultaneously plagued by the same faults?
Violence, masculinity, and Policeman with a capital ‘P'. Three entities that never seem to stray too far from one another. They deeply mark law enforcement’s culture as the pillars of the ideal that, as the training program for new recruits exemplifies, all are taught to aspire to.
Fábio França, Captain of Paraíba’s PM, has described police training as a “pedagogy of suffering”, one which—through cruelty—claims to teach recruits the value of “masculinity”. As one described, during their instruction, they were “deprived of sleep, beaten, made to train in rooms filled with tear gas, […] made to eat their food with filthy, unwashed hands, and commonly subjected to humiliation and assault from their superiors.” It is a dehumanising process for the trainees, through which violence becomes banal.
The Captain of Bahía’s PM, Thaís Trindade, suggests that the numbing to violence is, to a degree, a mechanism of self-defence. As she says: “we, professionals of public safety, deal with violence all the time, 24 hours per day […]. We create armour to protect ourselves and, sometimes, we get lost in that armour and we forget our own humanity.” However, while to officers violence may lose its shock, its sense of harm, they still learn to use it as an instrument through which to instil authority over one’s perceived inferiors. Allowing skills such as problem-solving, conflict resolution, and communication to be disregarded, the institution purposefully leaves recruits with violence as their sole tool. One they will use within the organization, but of course, more lamentably, outside it.
Take, for instance, the officers from the clash in Rio Grande. When the woman attempted to steer their operation, asking them not to use force against her brother, their only response, for what they felt was a slight on their authority and ability to resolve the situation, was to physically assault her. Restoring their dynamic to what would have felt “natural,” male policemen over a vulnerable mother.
Since women entered law enforcement in the 1980s, they have been relegated to the lowest positions of the organisation’s hierarchy. Even today, the highest position occupied by women is only that of Captain. There was, therefore, little opportunity for a female officer to assist the evolution of the organisation, or for that matter, any officer from a disadvantaged background. Any breadth of understanding that a more diverse corp might have offered the organisation, (new ways that issues might be approached, or how some officers might relate to and comprehend specific communities’ necessities), was unlikely to survive. Yet, this is a feature, not a bug of the system.
The great benefit for the organisation for allowing women to become officers, perhaps the motivation for their inclusion, was how they would benefit the public’s perception of law enforcement. Reportedly, there was an expectation that women would “humanise the [police’s] masculine universe […]”, while simultaneously, there never was any interest in earnestly including them in the organisation. As one specialist on the issue described: “what you will see […], are women policing public places: fairs, events… but if there is an actual problem, it’s not them that would be sent to address it.[…] Their function is another, it’s being public-relations”. Therefore, women were never welcomed to transform the antiquated institution, only give it the appearance of a revitalised, and modern organisation.
Their inclusion was executed on the basis that they would continue to serve the patriarchal structure that defines the police. Yet, what is this “masculine” universe? One that both repudiates femininity, but also requires its facade to continue to exist.
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Paranás’ PM released in 2018 a recruitment ad in which, among its requirements, specified “masculinity.” Defined as “the capacity for an individual to not be affected by scenes of violence, to be capable of dealing with vulgarity, without becoming emotional, nor showing interest in romantic and love stories.” It echos the absurdity that officers are motivated to aspire to, not only as policemen, but as men.
While women are expected to be weak, men are essentially expected to not be human. This is of course not natural. But what is the purpose of encouraging this performative detachment from one’s humanity?
"Policemen that don’t kill are not policemen,” said Bolsonaro, commenting on the high fatality that results from police violence in Rio de Janeiro. Statements such as these are meant to justify the idea that the police’s actions must necessarily lead to brutality, or alternatively, imply that to act empathetically, or without resource to force, is the sign of a weak and unqualified officer. It validates brutality, so long as it serves a myth of virility, which itself serves a greater purpose.
Bolsonaro’s unquestioning support of law enforcement, and the lore of masculinity that envelopes the police, are purposeful. Their collaboration ensures the maintenance of a mutually beneficial social order. For instance, the police provide Bolsonaro with a large and loyal electoral base, so Bolsonaro, who has gained the power to forward his interests, rewards them with a series of benefits (tax exemptions, real estate credit, etc…). Or whenever the police come under scrutiny, Bolsonaro confirms whatever narrative they have created as a defence: the criminal poor and the hero cop, one which also assists his own political agenda. Both the president and Law enforcement receive what they want through one another, in a state of seeming isolation from outward influence. Yet, it is a system that needs those on the margins of its philosophy.
The police has consistently refused to critically analyse and challenge itself, so it is steadily becoming a more antiquated institution. The political powers it upholds mean to maintain their supremacy; a situation where it requires people to feed on: someone to paint as its antithesis—men as strong and capable, women as feeble; someone to exert its violence upon—the poorest communities, the majority of which are made up of people of colour, being the most common targets for shows of police brutality. Yet, in becoming anachronistic, its self-preservation, its defense from outward scrutiny, ironically reached for those same people it harmed.
Certainly, thus far, the integration has been shallow, and exploitative, but perhaps it is a sign that despite its attempts, and even historical success at maintaining itself, It is a system that can’t hold under enough pressure. When people vote and advocate for democratically instituted change, it forces law enforcement to listen, reforming to serve the population’s best interests, as they ought to have always been. So women, or anyone who finds themselves in need of help, don’t have to choose between two abusers.
Sources:
3. https://forumseguranca.org.br/formacao-de-policiais-para-o-enfrentamento-da-violencia-de-genero/
4. https://www.bbc.com/portuguese/noticias/2016/01/151231_treinamento_policia_tg
5. http://www.cienciaecultura.ufba.br/agenciadenoticias/noticias/sexismo-fardado/
7. https://www.scielo.br/j/ram/a/G7pHhNgxmWrKfzbHbzJY7kc/?format=pdf&lang=pt
8. http://www.sisgeenco.com.br/sistema/sbsnorte/sbsnorte2012/ARQUIVOS/GT6-386-226-20120901005556.pdf