In the shadowy world of South American organized crime, the lines between popular culture, social media, and real-life criminal enterprise are becoming increasingly blurred. Two recent stories—one a scholarly examination of criminal non-state actors (CNSAs) in Brazil and the wider region, the other the dramatic arrest of a pro-cannabis influencer accused of leading a drug trafficking ring—offer a striking window into the evolving landscape of crime and governance in Brazil.
On October 24, 2025, Small Wars Journal published a review of Marcos Alan Ferreira’s new monograph, Criminal Non-State Actors: Historical Developments and Impacts in South America. The book, an academic publication by Springer, seeks to reframe the way we understand criminal organizations operating in South America. Ferreira, an Associate Professor in International Relations at the Federal University of Paraiba, argues that CNSAs—such as Brazil’s infamous Comando Vermelho (CV) and Primeiro Comando da Capital (PCC)—should not simply be lumped together with violent non-state actors (VNSAs). Instead, he insists, CNSAs are rational and strategic, prioritizing economic market dominance and governance capacities over violence, which is generally a last resort.
According to Ferreira, traditional frameworks in international relations have often focused on violence as the defining feature of non-state actors, leading to oversimplifications of their motivations and operations. But as he explains, “violence can be a modus operandi for a CNSA, but it is not a defining behavior.” Instead, CNSAs are adept at building networks of trust—sometimes through violence, but often through non-violent means. These networks, he argues, are critical to achieving both economic and, at times, political objectives.
Ferreira’s book details how CNSAs in South America have leveraged selective violence and loyal social networks to dominate illicit markets. These markets include not only drug trafficking but also extend to cryptocurrency, mining, deforestation, smuggling, and human trafficking. “Market gains and market dominance are a CNSA’s chief aim, with political objectives often being secondary,” Ferreira writes. This focus on market control means that violence, while present, is typically a last resort—used only when collaboration fails to maximize profit.
The governance role of these organizations is a key theme in Ferreira’s analysis. CNSAs have filled power vacuums in urban areas neglected by the state, rural regions critical for trafficking, and even within prison systems—locations he calls “functioning headquarters.” In many cases, these groups have established their own codes and rules, followed by large populations that often feel abandoned by formal government structures. Sometimes, CNSAs cooperate with state authorities; other times, they compete fiercely for control.
Ferreira’s work is not just theoretical. He grounds his arguments in detailed case studies of Brazil’s most notorious criminal organizations. The Comando Vermelho (CV), for example, began as a humble prison gang during a period of political upheaval, aided by left-wing activists and political prisoners targeted by Brazil’s right-wing regime. Over time, the CV transformed into a transnational superpower, dominating the cocaine market and expanding its operations far beyond Brazil’s borders.
Another group, the Primeiro Comando da Capital (PCC), emerged in the 1990s as a prisoners’ rights organization. Today, it is estimated to have around 35,000 members and is considered one of the world’s most powerful CNSAs. Through a combination of calculated violence, strategic relationships, and a decentralized structure, the PCC has extended its reach overseas, collaborating with European mafias and controlling key drug trafficking corridors such as the Rota Caipira.
The Brazilian Amazon, Ferreira notes, has become a critical hub for the production and shipment of illicit substances—mainly marijuana and cocaine. The region is dominated by CNSAs like the CV, PCC, and the Familia do Norte (FDN). Their presence has led to environmental crimes, the disruption of native social structures, and intense competition for territory and resources. The weak presence of the state and the region’s geography have only exacerbated instability and violence.
Ferreira’s monograph, though recently published and still available only in hardcover, is already being hailed as an important resource for professionals and scholars. It offers a robust framework for understanding how the erosion of state sovereignty and the transnationalization of organized crime are reshaping South America. As the review in Small Wars Journal notes, “the monograph offers accessible but detailed language on CNSAs, making it an important resource for professionals and scholars seeking to understand the erosion of state sovereignty, the transnationalization of organized crime, and conditions that allow for the emergence of CNSAs.”
Just one day before the publication of this review, the real-world implications of Ferreira’s arguments were thrown into sharp relief. On October 23, 2025, Melissa Said, a 23-year-old Brazilian social media influencer with more than 350,000 Instagram followers, was arrested after being on the run for a day. Known for her outspoken support of cannabis legalization, Said was accused by the Bahia Civil Police of leading an interstate gang involved in the distribution of cannabis and illegal financial operations across Bahia and other Brazilian regions.
According to News18, the arrest followed a major operation dubbed “Erva Afetiva” (“weed-loving”), echoing the phrase in Said’s own Instagram bio. Police raided five of her properties, arrested three other suspects, and seized 1.4 kilograms of high-grade marijuana, 270 grams of hashish, smaller portions of cannabis, digital scales, mobile phones, bank cards, and two vehicles believed to have been used in the criminal activities. Said had reportedly been under investigation since 2024, after being caught with drugs at an airport. She was also accused of encouraging her followers to evade police and of distributing cannabis “kits” containing joints on the streets.
Ernandes Junior, director of the State Department for Prevention and Suppression of Drug Trafficking, told Correio, “It was discovered that in addition to promoting crime and drug use, she also sells and distributes narcotics in Bahia, with some people from Sao Paulo as one of her suppliers.” If convicted, Said could face up to 25 years in prison. Police said she will be interrogated alongside her lawyer, undergo a forensic examination, and remain in custody until her court hearing.
The juxtaposition of Ferreira’s academic analysis and Said’s high-profile arrest underscores an uncomfortable reality: criminal non-state actors in Brazil are not only powerful but also deeply embedded in the social fabric, from the favelas and prisons to the feeds of social media influencers. As CNSAs adapt to new technologies and social trends, their influence grows ever more complex, challenging both law enforcement and traditional notions of governance.
For policymakers, scholars, and ordinary citizens alike, understanding the true nature of these organizations—and the conditions that allow them to flourish—has never been more urgent.