Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Philadelphia's city council voted to decriminalize marijuana, and I couldn’t be happier. I don’t live there anymore, but I spent an important chunk of my life in that town. When I first arrived there for college, certain neighborhoods scared me, but over time the city’s flaws grew on me. I started loving Philly for the same reason so many people hate it—it’s a shithole, but it’s my shithole.

If the city makes decriminlization a law, which is likely, it would be a victory for the underdog. Decriminalization would remove an immense burden from a city that smokes a shit ton of weed. Like many other cities in America, Philly arrests way more minorities than white people for crimes of minimal possession. I never had to deal with that reality, because even though I’m clearly a minority, cops usually perceived me as a harmless college student. I tried to explain this to my mom time and time again, but she believed that smoking—or just possessing—weed would land me into trouble. “They’ll do a stop-and-frisk on you,” she often said, shaking her head. 

My mom got the opportunity to confirm her fears when her friend introduced her to a realtor named Todd who used to be a Philly cop. He was helping us look for a new house, and my mom figured she would receive a bargain on his fee if she asked him for advice about the dangers of smoking weed. One afternoon, as Todd drove us around South Philly, a cloud of weed smoke passed through the car at a stoplight. My mom saw her chance to segue the conversation. “Todd, what is that smell?” she asked politely. “Weed,” said Todd, adding, “Shitty weed.” My mom pried further, “Now, you were a policeman once. How often did you arrest people for smoking weed?” Before Todd could answer, she said, “Because my son, he smokes the weed.” Todd looked at me in the rearview mirror as I cringed in the back seat. He started laughing. “There’s no need to embarrass him. A lot of kids smoke weed. A lot of people in general do—hell, most of the cops I know smoke weed. I never bothered arresting people for that. Way worse stuff goes on out here.” My mom thoughtfully considered this for a moment. “OK. That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you,” she said. Thank god I have a reasonable mom.

Todd seemed pretty chill, so one day I asked him about his days as a police officer in one of America’s roughest cities. I asked him about the most fucked up thing he had ever seen, and then he told me the following story, gesticulating with one hand, as he drove us through Philly.

“One day, we got a citywide call on a car speeding up Broad Street toward City Hall. He was blasting red lights, and apparently driving on the wrong side of the street. We set up a blockade on the other side of City Hall, knowing that he’d have to go around it at some point. There must have been a hundred PPD there, cars and paddy wagons everywhere. We made the blockade, assuming that he would go the right way around the building counter-clockwise. Instead, he shoots around the wrong side and crashes into a bunch of cruisers with cops sitting in them.

“There was a frenzy, cops and medics rushing to the crash and struggling to pull the injured cops out of their vehicles. The renegade driver was in pretty bad shape too. They rushed the cops to Hahnemann Hospital right up the street, but not the other driver. A bunch of cops pulled him from the wreckage and dragged him into the back of a paddy wagon; they beat the living shit out of him in there. He was wilding and could have killed their buddies—and there was no way they were letting that go. A few minutes later, the cops emerged from the paddy wagon with the guy’s blood all over their arms and hands. Medics pulled the guy out and rushed him to Hahnemann, where he died in a few minutes.

“We found out soon after that the guy was driving through town in a rage because he had just found out that morning that he had full blown AIDS. They gave him a few weeks to live—he had no treatment options and no way out. He just lost it, got in his car, and sped away with a death wish. The cops who beat him had been exposed to a lot of his blood. If one of them had a cut on their knuckle, there was a chance they had the horrible disease that drove that guy crazy. For weeks, none of them could have any physical contact with their wives until they were thoroughly tested. Did they deserve that? Maybe. But in a city where the crime is fucked up, the enforcement is going to be kind of fucked up.”

We sat in silence, absorbing the gruesome tale. Todd broke the tension. “So, yeah. The weed is no big deal, kid.”

Follow T. Kid on Twitter. 

Ricardo Castellano

I always thought of wars as something people try to forget—particularly civil wars, like the Spanish one; three years of fighting that resulted in dictator Franco rulling the country for the next 36, from 1939 to 1975. Yet, in Spain, there are still those who are committed to keeping the memory of the conflict alive.

Lawyer and military historian Ricardo Castellano has built a career on tracking and cataloging remnants of war. As leader of the Colectivo Guadarrama collective, he has spent the past 15 years unearthing bunkers and keeps in Madrid and the surrounding area. Essentially a modern-day treasure hunter, he is such a fascinating character, so I got in touch to ask him about his work.

VICE: How did you get into tracking keeps and bunkers?
Ricardo Castellano: I’ve had an interest in the Spanish Civil War since I was 16. Then in 1995, I had an accident and had to stop working for a while. I took the opportunity to catch up on some reading and since I had time until I returned to work, I began exploring battlefields out of curiosity. I realized there was no information. I found it hard to believe that no one had been interested enough to gather information; the only thing I found was a periodical published by the Community of Madrid in 1987.

In 1996, I started traveling around the country. In 1998, a friend told me what a GPS was, so I ordered one from the US for 50.000 pesetas [the old Spanish currency, equivalent to $360]. With it, I began taking coordinates of the sites where I knew there were remains and investigating in archives. I also developed my own location technique.

What does that entail?
My interest isn't as much in the battles as when those fortifications were built, who built them and why. In order to make my excursions easier, I photocopied the microfilms I found interesting, I cut and pasted the photocopies, arranged the maps at home, scanned them, and then—through a system of layers—I overlaid the maps from the times of war with the current ones. This way I managed to depict the battle fronts and the positions of each side, so I had quite a clear picture of the area when I was on site. Then I used other tools, such as Google Maps, which provides an aerial view of the terrain but does not tell you where you need to go. For example, it is not useful when you are dealing with a forest. It is a good tool for bunker hunters, but not as great for those looking for historical knowledge.

What exactly is a "bunker hunter"?
Around 1998 I began to inventory everything I had found, and in 2005 we founded the association. In these years the Internet evolved, allowing people with common interests, such as looking for remnants of war, to communicate with each other. It began as something for connoisseurs and ended up extending to other social spheres. In the last six or eight years this has really progressed; some people even organize routes.

Are there still fortifications left to discover?
Of course, although they will not be the most spectacular ones, since dozens of people have been walking the battlefields looking for them for about 15 years. The real treasures now lie within the underground buildings, because they’re not noticeable and they don’t appear on maps. I am talking about air-raid shelters, of which there is little documentation.

A bunker near Madrid, unearthed by Ricardo.

So, we might be standing above a hidden bunker right now, here in Madrid.
Indeed. There are plenty of them. A couple of months ago, I got in touch with this man, who had posted a blog about how he’d managed to enter an underground construction I knew but hadn’t been able to visit. It’s on Aristas Street and it was designed to shelter 5000 people. After its construction began, the proportions of the bunker had to be reduced to accommodate 2000 people instead. Eventually, they built four shelters for 500 people each. I found some photos of the place, uploaded by a civil servant who worked in the sewage systems.

Is there any other place that you find intriguing?
Yes, I’ve been working to gain access to the Osram Shelter, next to the light bulb factory, near Atocha train station. The premises belong to the Community of Madrid and used to be surrounded by open country. That was the building site of one of the biggest shelters, all with reinforced concrete and spacious rooms. I don’t know if it still exists.

How long did it take to build one of those shelters?
It should be noted that these were made in times of war. There were power cuts, and the workforce was scarce. In some of the buildings they used bricks from other constructions. With all means at their disposal, it could take them about a month or so to build a shelter for 100 people, and four months for the most complex—those with machinery involved.

The army's layout for another bunker from the 1930s.

Are there still people who go out on their own looking for "souvenirs" of the old battles?
This is a sensitive subject. There is a law dating from 1985 that regulates the use of metal detectors, but each government makes their own interpretation. The tendency is towards prohibition, as it usually happens in Spain. If you’re talking about material remnants from the Civil War, of course there are some. During the noughties, about 1400 shells were deactivated yearly. That’s an average of five shells per day. Some were injured and have even died because of this. Many a fool find something and, instead of calling the Spanish military police, they take it home, try to manipulate it and sometimes it explodes, killing them, or blowing the house.

And what would the solution be?
I always tell them that they should have a permit if they use a metal detector. In the past, they would take refuge in the fact that no one could dig out anything less than one hundred years old. But if what you find is near an archaeological site or in a Natural Park, the law says that you can’t touch it. The problem with “detectorists” is that they are not historical treasure hunters or looters. They are interested in grenades, ammunition, etc. So the risk is to them, rather than to the national heritage.

How valuable are those pieces?
They have a market value, but not very high. I don’t know. A nice hand grenade might be worth 60 Euros [$90]. Well-preserved helmets are very highly priced, but they are not excessively expensive. Very few people make a living from this in Spain. It doesn’t yield a big margin.

They say that sometimes you need to distance yourself to see things clearly. Sicilian photographer Glauco Canals spent four years in Milan, before moving to Plymouth, UK, from where he sent us another heavenly selection of photos. This is what he had to say on Milan:

"My perception of Milan has changed ever since I came to England. In the past year, I've had the opportunity to re-evaluate the city, its people and its dynamics and come to love and miss so many things I despised before."

See more of Glauco's photos here and here.

Does your town or city qualify for paradise status? Feel free to send your pitches to ukphotoblog@vice.com. Don't be shy.

Photo via Flickr user 110751683.
Last week, Wikileaks released a draft text from the negotiations of the Trade in Services Agreement (TISA), a 50-country trade deal currently under secret negotiation by Canadian authorities.

The leaked chapter deals specifically with trade in financial services. If it were passed as-is with US positions adopted, it would generally deregulate the financial sector worldwide, making it easier for large US and European players to expand into new markets while loosening restrictions on their activities. For some reason, negotiators seem to believe the world is still hungry for more of the credit default swaps and shit-tier repackaged mortgage securities that got us into such a big mess in 2008.  

As if that’s not distressing enough, the TISA could also undermine personal privacy. Tucked into the chapter is a section on cross-border data flows. As large banks and financial firms expand into country after country, private financial data is increasingly being aggregated into the cloud—most of which is actually located on servers in the US and Europe.

The US position on this issue, to nobody’s surprise, argues for no restrictions on data flows.

“[US: Each Party shall allow a financial service supplier of another Party to transfer information in electronic or other form, into and out of its territory, for data processing where such processing is required in the financial service supplier’s ordinary course of business.]”

This essentially means that it would be more affordable for US financial services to set up shop abroad, since they can avoid having to relocate servers and personnel if they don’t want to. But it also has the secondary effect of discouraging states from passing their own data privacy laws, as Brazil recently attempted. Essentially, the US proposal is unconcerned with a country’s right to try to protect its citizens’ private data.

Why does this provision have privacy advocates worried? One reason is that the US is arguing for an unfettered right for financial firms to send data wherever they wish, overriding any privacy laws in countries where they operate.

In privacy terms, the practical effect of this rule would be kind of like throwing a bleating lamb into a crocodile habitat. No doubt, having all of this data head back to the Homeland would be attractive for the NSA. Although they likely have no part in driving negotiations, the results of this data provision would do plenty to carry on their creepy legacy of “total information awareness” and could expose even more of our personal information to their unreasonable surveillance.

Article X.18, proposed by the US and the EU, would seem to have us covered on this front:

“[Nothing in this Agreement shall be construed to require a Party to disclose information relating to the affairs and accounts of individual consumers or any confidential or proprietary information in the possession of public entities.]”

However, as with a lot of the text, this section is bracketed, which means it’s still under negotiation. Also, as Wikileaks’ analysis also points out, “the provision is negatively worded…[and] does not affect states’ ability to require disclosure of information, presumably to the government, about individuals. It is not concerned with protecting personal privacy or preventing those who hold the personal data from abusing it for commercial or political purposes.”

Moreover, we have yet to see the NSA or its Five Eyes partners like CSEC and GCHQ really operate with any care about normal rules or privacy considerations—if there is information moving from one point to another and they can intercept it, they very often will. This includes things like GCHQ’s recent declaration that because social networking communications are hosted in the US and not the UK, they can be swept up and monitored without a warrant.

Even though it is unrealistic for countries to prevent all personal data from crossing borders in the name of protecting privacy, it’s quite clear that providing carte blanche to increase data flows can’t result in much more than an erosion of privacy and an increase in warrantless surveillance powers.

Canadians already have very little knowledge of what information is being collected about them by both public and private organizations, how long it’s stored, and who it’s shared with. But the more we learn, the less we’re pleased with how things are going: a new poll, for example, showed that a full 73 percent of Canadians are opposed to the government’s widely-condemned “cyberbullying” bill C-13, which would greatly expand warrantless disclosure of private information.

When three quarters of the country’s population is now against the continuing erosion of our privacy rights, it’s easy to wonder why the leaked text reveals no Canadian opposition to the provisions discussed above. Then again, the government is showing no signs of listening to that outcry, so perhaps we shouldn’t be too surprised.

Both C-13 and TISA are alarming examples of the intersection of two trends: the privacy deficit and the democratic deficit. International trade agreements have always required some discretion in order to make deals, but the latest batch of them (TPP, TTIP, TISA) are much more opaque than their predecessors. As governments clamor to gobble up more data about citizens, they’re simultaneously restricting access to decision-making processes that affect us all. While this inverse transparency may deliver some results in the short term, it’s bound to hurt our democracy over time. “Trust us, this will be good for you,” just isn’t good enough when it comes to our basic civil liberties.


@chrismalmo

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Photos by Jessica Flynn

At the 2300 Arena in Philadelphia, one of the most historic arenas in wrestling history, a short man dressed like a masked superhero scaled the ropes surrounding the wrestling ring.

Instead of crushing his opponent when he launched himself off the ropes, the wrestler landed a few feet away from his opponent. This wasn’t his only misstep, but his fans—Mexican families, die-hard wrestling aficionados, and pop culture buffs—didn’t mind his mistakes. Jumping and falling, pain and victory, are parts of the lives of luchadores, the Mexican wrestlers who work at various independent professional wrestling circuits around the world.

The last Saturday of April, I visited the arena to watch Masked Republic’s first MaskedMania event in Philadelphia. “The entire concept behind MaskedMania was to test bringing an authentic lucha libre show to a market that does not traditionally get lucha libre—or, in the case with Philadelphia, had never had a traditional lucha event period,” said Kevin Kleinrock, president of Masked Republic. “We wanted to bring our event to an underserved city. And, with the rich tradition of wrestling in Philly and the extremely supportive 2300 Arena, it seemed like a perfect fit.”

Several local promotion companies have called this arena home, and the venue has served as a breeding (and bleeding) ground for dozens of wrestlers who eventually fought in the WWE—the rafters’ banners include names like Terry Funk, Jerry Lynn, and Sandman.

Like at many other wrestling events, the men jumped on their competitors, their big bodies banging against each other and flying throughout the ring. It was a freak show, but it was an inclusive freak show, starring women, young guys, old guys, tall guys, short guys, straight guys, and gay guys—yes, gay crossdressers known as exóticos.

In lucha libre tradition, most exótico luchadores are gay men dressed in drag. “Everyone knew I was gay, but I never had a closet, so I was never in the closet,” said Cassandro, one of the most famous exóticos in the world. “Everyone knew I was gay except me.”

Many luchadores wear masks to disguise their faces, but the 44-year-old Cassandro has used heavy-handed mascara and eyeliner to draw attention to his naked face. He began his wrestling career with a mask, but when a big wrestling promotion in Juarez, Mexico, needed an exótico, he knew the mask had to go.

“Lucha libre has been the worst thing to ever happen to me and it has been the best thing,” Cassandro said. 

In addition to surviving a suicide attempt and having to work long hours to prove himself, Cassandro has suffered back injuries and torn his ACL and PCL. After another luchador, LA Park, kicked him in the face four months ago, he had to buy a new set of teeth. His next three surgeries have to wait until after he tours Japan and Europe in the fall.

“The doctor said, ‘Urgent surgery.’ I said, ‘Urgent for you, not for me!’” Cassandro laughed. “It’s lucha libre, not a beauty salon—even though sometimes it may look like it.”

Lucha libre’s traditions date back to the late 19th century. According to Steve Sims (a.k.a. Dr. Lucha, an authority on the sport with encyclopedic knowledge), the first Mexican wrestling competition in America possibly took place in the 1920s in California or Texas. In 1933, back in Mexico, Salvador Lutteroth González, the father of lucha libre, formed a popular promotion company called Empresa Mexicana de Lucha Libre. Over 80 years later, González’s company still exists.

In the 1940s, many Mexicans immigrated to America, because World War II had vacuumed up most American men, bringing wrestling and other Mexican customs with them. Lucha libre was so popular in the 40s, promoters in California and Texas organized fights between Mexican wrestlers.

Since then, the tide of interest and support in the United States has crested and receded, but with recent partnerships between companies north and south of the border, lucha libre may be ready to ride the wave again. According to experts, the two biggest promotions in Mexico, CMLL and AAA, may respectively gross as much as $10 million or $15 million this year. CMLL has partnered with Warner Bros. to handle the marketing of luchadores, while AAA has made a deal with El Rey Network to bring lucha libre to television. While these promotions represent a push into the United States from Mexico, companies like Masked Republic are also starting here, bringing luchadores to America, which makes sense considering the WWE grossed more than $125.6 million in 2014’s first quarter.

MaskedMania-type events are also growing in America. Steven Steffel, a fan from Falls Church, Virginia, drove two and a half hours to see the match. “I’m a general wrestling fan, but I like the high-flying, risk-taking acrobatics aspect [of lucha libre],” he said. Josh Mitchell from York, Pennsylvania, agreed: “Lucha libre to me is like real life superheroes,” he said. “You can get behind somebody, and they have a persona you can buy into, that they can do anything. It transcends larger than life. I think of lucha as live action comic books.”

Although the American market has boosted lucha libre’s popularity, Cassandro and other athletes grunted and sighed when I asked them about the gringos who joined lucha libre. The influx of white wrestlers reminded me of when Prime Minister Pete Nice and MC Serch broke out on the rap scene. At the time, rap was a small subculture, so the rappers’ ethnicity didn’t draw as much attention, but as rap became more popular, white rappers, like Eminem, drew flack. Cassandro now sees the positive benefits of the American wrestlers: “It’s very obvious there are two different schools, American wrestling and lucha libre Mexican-style, but if you don’t lose touch and skills and talent, it raises the bar and helps us both.”

Before each match, wrestlers and luchadores did push-ups, prayed, and shadowboxed invisible opponents backstage. While production people frantically scurried to referees, Cassandro stood silently with his glittering, pink robe's long train flowing across the floor behind him, like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle. 

When Cassandro’s theme music began, he strode with confidence through the curtain and down the walkway. As Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” started to play, he entered the arena and the crowd lost it. Men catcalled; women whistled. Even the bored children who had been dragged to the event by their parents dropped their toy masks to watch Cassandro.

After Cassandro sauntered down from his perch on the top of the rope, he played out a charade of overt and rejected sexuality with his American opponent, Matt Cross, to the cheers and jeers of people in their seats. At the start of the match, Cassandro wrapped his arms around Cross from behind and then squeezed his pecs. Cassandro and the crowd enjoyed this, but Cross did not.

In many ways, the match symbolized the contrasts between American and Mexican wrestling. More than any other fight that night, the battle pitted the lucha libre-style against traditional American wrestling. Where lucha libre fighters perform moves on their opponent’s left side, American wrestlers deliver moves to the right.

Eventually, Cassandro landed a missile dropkick before executing a top rope rana and pinning Cross for a three count, winning the match. The crowd exploded in the longest, most sincere round of applause of the night.

“People went crazy for me tonight. Even the white guys were like, ‘Mexico!’ I was like, ‘Awesome!’” Cassandro said after the match. “I’m not used to wrestling American-style, and Matt isn’t used to lucha libre-style, but we were pretty good. I still did my stuff, and he still did his awesome stuff. It was good.”

“That was my first time seeing Cassandro, and that was fucking awesome,” said Philadelphia resident Jason Goldberg. “He’s my new favorite wrestler!” Along with being a longtime wrestling fan, Goldberg handles vocals for Eat the Turnbuckle, a band that describes itself as “ULTRA-VIOLENT DEATH MATCH ROCK AND ROLL.” From occasionally rocking lucha libre masks on stage to performing wrestling stunts during live performances, their wrestling appreciation is more than a gimmick—they love the sport.

 “Look at today. It was a great turnout; it was a great show. And Philadelphia doesn’t very often have a lucha libre show. It was mixed, but the result was obvious,” Cassandro said. “The fans, adrenaline. I love my job. I’m so blessed.”

At 27, Carey McWilliams became the first totally blind person in the USA to acquire a conceal and carry permit. Despite weapons training during his ROTC years, McWilliams has faced opposition to his right to bear arms from both the media and public officials.

Once fervently against hunting, McWilliams now views hunting as a way to connect to a system greater than himself and cope with PTSD brought on by a recent violent dog attack. In his down time, he carries a loaded pistol to the grocery store. 

VICE headed to North Dakota to witness life as America’s foremost blind outdoorsman and gun enthusiast. 

When the world looked at the early-years Russell Brand, the one who spent his time presenting Big Brother's Big Mouth and hamming it up alongside Gemma Arterton in St Trinian's, they probably did not see a man who would one day demand revolution from a crowd of 50,000 outside the Houses of Parliament. But on Saturday, that's exactly what happened, as an anti-austerity demo organised by the People's Assembly took place in London.

"This will be a peaceful, effortless, joyful revolution," Brand declared. "Power isn't there [in the House of Commons], it is here, within us. The revolution that's required isn't a revolution of radical ideas, but the implementation of ideas we already have."

But just what are those ideas? Given that the marchers had come together beneath the banner: "No More Austerity – Demand The Alternative", I went along to ask those present what that alternative might be, and what their new, improved Britain would look like.

VICE: Hi Michael. How do you propose we solve the current situation?
Michael: Well, I think you need to start cutting from the top and not at the bottom. For me, I don't understand why you would make cuts to people who can't afford them and, as an effect from that, struggle to afford basic living costs and struggle to eat.

So your main issues revolve around the growing wealth divide.
Yes. I think capitalism was brought in for suppressive reasons, but it's now got out of control. The negatives of capitalism have now become even more noticeable and apparent. We need to really look at how the system treats the working class.

So do any other ideologies appeal to you, or do you simply believe in better regulation of the people at the top?
I feel the system just needs to be better regulated. When used properly, capitalism could enforce positive change and not just be a means to generate as much profit in as short a space of time without any comprehension of the adverse effects. But I'm not sure how this would be best achieved, as I believe governments cannot be simply broken down into simpler structures. I just know they've created such a divide between them and the people they represent.

Thanks, Michael.

You're here because you don't like the way things are run. What's the alternative?
Richard: A better alternative is to stop the rich getting richer and to start implementing taxes on the global elite. Their corruption is making people poorer all around the world. That's why I'm here, because voices don't get heard and the government just want to send us to more wars that we shouldn't even be involved in. It's a long road to improvement, but we can't sit by and do nothing.

So how could this new alternative be implemented? Do you mean a new political party or a new way of governing entirely?
It's hard to say. I'm not a politician, so I don't really know the ins and outs of running a government, or how to implement new systems or parties that can be guaranteed to be better than the ones they replace. I'm here because I'm pissed off at the current state of things, as simple as that.

Unfortunately we lost our photo of Jon, so here's one of a sign at the protest instead.

Hi Jon. You're here demanding an alternative. What would that be exactly?
Jon: I believe in the Communist Party of Britain. The party supports the People's Charter, which is an alternative economic plan that shows that you can have a socialist form of government.

Okay. So what would you say to those who argue that communism has never really managed to sustain itself? Economically, it's helped to rebuild countries in the past, but often those countries have turned into pretty unpleasant places to live. 
I would say it's worked time and time again. Critics tend to find very specific examples to revise a different version of history that they have constructed. If you look at the communist party in Britain, it has had a very successful track record campaigning against fascists, mandatory subscription and poll tax, to name just a few – as well as being here today.

So, for you, the only solution is complete communism?           
I think the solution is a strong and united fighting working class. The party is happy and willing to work with other political parties, such as the Green Party or Labour. Anyone who's willing to put the working class people first and / or believes in socialism has something in common with us.

From left to right: Eleanor, Abbey, Clare

Hi Clare. Tell me how things need to change.
Clare: Well, there's not an aspect of our lives that isn't adversely affected by what this government is doing. I've got a daughter with Asperger's, a granddaughter with autism, a learning disabled son-in-law, a mentally ill son... I work for the NHS and we're in social housing.

So you've really felt the full brunt of the cuts.
Yes. The solution isn't simply a case of making the cuts at the top and not at the bottom, but the government needs to recognise that there are some people in society who will always need help. You can't demand and harass them to work when they can't change who they are. We cannot demonise the vulnerable; it's horribly reminiscent of what the Nazis were saying before they started the T4 programme.

How exactly have the cuts affected your family?
My son, who's a manic-depressive, lives in squalor with his girlfriend because they removed his entitlement to state benefits. My son-in-law, after 18 months of trying to commit suicide because of the benefits situation, has still not received any help that was promised to him. My daughter Eleanor, despite looking after two members of the family who are both disabled, has Asperger's herself and has to attend a “fit to work” assessment next month. While all this is going on we're being harassed by the government's Troubled Families Unit to “get back to work”. We're not criminals, but we're being treated like them.

Maurice didn't want his photo used, so here are some class warriors instead.

Hi Maurice. What brings you here today?
Maurice: I'm here because this government is enforcing austerity that only affects the poor. I'm a public sector worker, and I haven't had a pay-rise for many years. I'm here today because this government is taking us back to the 1930s, and if we don't make a stand now it means we'll never make a stand in the years to come.

So what would make a better alternative?
We first need to get rid of this government. I wouldn't say we need to create a new form of government, but we need to ensure that if we elect a government it represents the people who have put them in power. This government represents the super elite, and they don't look to ensure a good quality of life for the working class. I belong to The Public and Commercial Service Union, and we've proposed an alternative to Cameron's cuts.

What's that?
I feel that these cuts aren't looking at exactly what the problem is, which is the lack of resources in the first place. If people are going to work, they have to be given a proper living wage. And instead of these cuts on people who are living pay cheque to pay cheque, and struggling to buy food, we need to look at other areas where we can save money. We need to put back in place what this government has taken away.

Which government policies inspired you to come out today? 
David: Well, I feel quite strongly that the cuts – especially the ones on education and the NHS – are too much. We've seen wars – the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, and our intervention in Libya – that have all caused countless deaths and refugees. Is marching here for a mile and a half going to make a difference? I'm not sure, but you just try your best, don't you? I'd like to see the public retaking the ownership of major services. This whole situation seems like a worldwide conspiracy, if I can use that word [laughs].

Are you saying there might be a higher echelon of the super elite working behind the scenes to achieve their own objectives?
I would say so, yeah. I'm a socialist. I believe in public ownership of the basic necessities. The only ones we have left are education and the NHS, which are – I think – also on the agenda to go private [this isn't strictly true; both services, to different extents, have seen increasing privatisation, but it hasn't been announced that either are going to be fully privatised]. They also seem intent on starting another Cold War – or even a hot one, for that matter.

You think?
In my opinion, they're looking to resurrect a Cold War with either China or Russia. The armaments industry does very well out of those situations. If you took all the money that was spent during the Cold War and spent it on trying to improve things, we'd probably be in a utopia. With the Iraq and Afghanistan wars costing £30 billion so far it beggars belief that they're now trying to squeeze the NHS out of a few million.

@EuanCoe

More articles about austerity in the UK:

This Travel Agency Is Offering a Holiday Tour Through Austerity Britain

Why Aren't British People Rioting in the Streets Against Austerity

All photos via the author.

Growing up in small town Alberta, I had always vaguely known that there was a nearby town called Vulcan, and the only thing I knew about it was that they had a replica Starship Enterprise. This might’ve been a bigger deal to me except that even as kid, I thought Alberta’s obsession with roadside attractions was pretty lame. Come to [insert town name], Home of the World’s Largest [insert random object]! Stay for the Nothing Else!

What I didn’t know is that the Enterprise statue was just the beginning. Vulcan has since parlayed the coincidental overlap of the name its had since 1915 and the seemingly neverending popularity of the Star Trek franchise to turn itself into a tourist destination for Trekkies. Each year Vulcan’s Trek-themed festival, Spock Days brings thousands of people to the community.

Last weekend, on my way to Spock Days, all I was expecting to see was a miniature Star Trek convention awkwardly beamed into a rural setting. While that certainly is part of it, it’s just as much a small town festival—like a rodeo or cornfest—as anything you’d find in neighbouring rural Canadian towns; there’s a free pancake breakfast, a softball tournament, a beer garden, a barbecue, and a dunk tank. Unfortunately, my most anticipated event (the dog agility show) had been cancelled—the lady that does it was sick.

It seemed a little ridiculous to me that the whole reason for all of this hoopla was that this tiny rural town just happened to have the name of a fictional intergalactic race known for being logical and pinching people to sleep. However tenuous the connection was originally, in the 22 years that Spock Days has been running, Vulcan has integrated Star Trek into its DNA. There are Starfleet logos printed on street signs and poured into sidewalk concrete. Businesses are named and decorated with references to Star Trek. Vulcan is also home to Canada’s only Star Trek museum Trekcetera, which opened last year. Even if it was nakedly about driving tourism, the town had done a lot more than just the half-assed effort of erecting a statue.

The event that really melds the small town present and science fiction future is the annual Spock Days Parade. The guests of honour, three former cast members and a former set designer for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine led the parade in convertibles. The town’s own float is, of course, a replica of the Starship Enterprise called the USS Vulcan orbited by a cluster of enthusiastic Star Trek fans. In a jarring shift, the very next float was for an Evangelical Bible School. Most of the remaining floats were promoting local businesses, though only some paid lip service to the Star Trek theme with Spock ears or “Keep Khan and Klingon” hoodies. My favourite image from the parade: a classic Cadillac promoting a retirement community, packed with seniors, one of which flashed the Vulcan salute like a gang sign as they rolled by.

The spectators reflected the odd mash-up feel of the parade. There were wholesome looking small town folk, some in cowboy hats and boots, standing by others in full Trekkie costumes. Weirder yet was seeing members of a nearby Hutterite colony taking in the sci-fi action in muted confusion. It was as though people from the past, present, and the imagined future had all come to enjoy the parade.

It was interesting that you could easily tell who was from out of town, because they were both wearing costumes and taking pictures. For the locals, the people who come to their town as spectators are the spectacle. As the parade crowd dispersed, I overheard a local talking to a costumed couple in a way that in any other small town would’ve been troubling:

“Hey, where are you two from?”

“Calgary,” said the woman.

“No. Where are you really from?”

After taking a second to understand she wasn’t being insulted, she piped back up, “Oh! I’m from Bajor and he’s from Vulcan.”

The actual convention itself is more, well, conventional. It’s a scaled down version of what you’d see at Comic-Con. There are booths where you can buy merchandise or have original artwork created. This year’s two biggest celebrities Rene Auberjonois and Nana Visitor, Deep Space Nine’s Odo and Kira respectively, sat for Q & A sessions, fielding questions with casual honesty. When asked what the strangest thing she had autographed was, Visitor replied “looking back on it, I probably shouldn’t have done this, but once I autographed a six-week-old child.”

Not all the celebrity guests were as down-to-earth. Chase Masterson, who appeared in 17 of DS9’s 173 episodes as Leeta, noticed I was taking photos of her autograph session and insisted on seeing the photos so she could veto any that weren’t flattering. While she flipped through my photos I checked out the self-produced CDs she was selling. They had titles like Songs from the Holodeck and cost 30 dollars each—prices from the future.

Spock Days' other main event which rivals the convention in size, was a 24-team Slo-Pitch tournament, complete with a beer garden set up between the baseball diamonds. I kept checking back in on the tournament hoping to see some members in full Starfleet uniforms enjoying a game or at least a beer, but there seemed to be very little crosspollination between the two events. One of the players I talked to, Brett, was originally from Vulcan. Even though he doesn’t actually watch Star Trek, he always comes back for Spock Days.

“It brings money into the town,” he explained. “The ball tournament is huge. And it’s a good drunk.”

On my way back to the convention’s video dance—yes, there’s a video dance—I stopped in at Vulcan’s Star Trek museum Trekcetera, which debuted during last year’s event. One of the owners, Michael Mangold, doubles as the museum’s tour guide, and is clearly as passionate about Star Trek as he is about the area. Even if it is a little silly, his enthusiasm for the topic is thrilling.

Mangold particularly glorified Leonard Nimoy, who has become something of a folk hero in Vulcan. In 2010 Nimoy visited Vulcan and the town dedicated a bronze statue of Spock to him. Mangold explained that Nimoy approached CBS on behalf of Vulcan to have it officially named The Star Trek Capital of Canada. This has added the town’s legitimacy as a Star Trek destination and Vulcan has prospered. It was tough to be cynical after seeing Mangold’s sincere appreciation of what Star Trek has done for the town and for him personally.

Back at the convention, the crowd mingled before the dance and people kept asking me how my first experience with Spock Days was. They knew I hadn’t been to one before, because this was a small town convention in more than one way—they all knew each another. They were there to see each other as much as they were there for the convention. This was the fifth consecutive year that Shayla from Edmonton had attended. She had just graduated high school the week before. Grad gifts came in the mail from people she had met at previous Spock Days, or as she referred to them, her Vulcan family.

The MC informed us that before the dance started, there would be a special performance by Chase Masterson! She kick-stepped and twirled around the stage while singing a version of Marilyn Monroe song with repurposed lyrics to pander to Trekkies called, "Latinum is a Girl’s Best Friend." After promoting her CDs (available for sale at the back of the room), she inexplicably followed it up with a cover of, "Pure Imagination," the famous song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. No response. She broke the following stunned silence by saying, “that was for all of you.” Even in this town that had manufactured a Trek-tourism industry, this felt like an unabashed cash grab. She left the stage to a strained applause from a room full of Star Trek fans.

The mood in the room quickly bounced back when the video dance started with Pharrell’s "Happy." Trekkies eagerly packed the dance floor. There’s something magical about watching people in Starfleet uniforms and blue body paint dancing while lasers dart around the room. Shayla came back and told me to put down my camera and come dance in the circle. And, after I found a place to hide it from Masterson, I did.

@jefftoth

Image via Facebook.
You know that classic Charlie Brown gag where he tries to kick a football that Lucy is holding, only to have it pulled away at the last second as he lands flat on his back?

The feeling must be a familiar one for the transgender community in Canada, as the government has—once again—thwarted efforts to protect them from discrimination and hate crimes.

The bill, now known as C-279, has been around for more than a decade. Colloquially, it’s known as the trans rights act, and it was nearly passed through parliament.

But thanks to the work of two unelected Senators and the inner machinations of the Harper government, the bill has been stuck. And proponents are not optimistic.

“It’s dead,” Randall Garrison, the Member of Parliament championing the bill, told me. “I’ve given up hope.”

The football has been pulled away. Again.

Snakes and ladders.

While the trans community still struggles for acceptance, the bill was supposed to afford them the most basic of rights. The bill aims to protect trans people from getting fired because of their identity, from being kicked out of their home, or from being beaten or murdered.

It’s a pretty simple concept: it would add ‘gender identity’ as a protected group under the Human Rights Act, and add it as an identifiable group under the Criminal Code.

That means trans people could complain about discrimination against the Human Rights Tribunal, that advocating for the genocide of trans people would be illegal, and that attacking or murdering a trans persons would be considered a hate crime.

Adding protections for trans people seems like a no-brainer. But that logic was lost on many who came across the bill during its arduous slog through the parliamentary process.

When it was first introduced in 2004 by NDP MP Bill Siksay, the bill had no hope of passing. But slowly, opinions have changed, despite some heavy opposition from members of the Conservatives and Liberals. Social conservatives have said that the bill will allow men to enter women’s bathrooms. That charge, trans activists say, is entirely inaccurate, and wholly offensive.

That sort of obtuseness defined much of the debate. But after an intense lobbying campaign by a handful of NDP MPs, something incredible happened: the bill passed, making it one of very few opposition bills to pass under the Harper majority. 18 Conservative MPs, many of them ministers, voted for the bill. Among them: Finance Minister Jim Flaherty, Foreign Affairs Minister John Baird, Labour Minister Lisa Raitt, and Heritage Minister James Moore. Public Safety Minister Shelly Glover also supported the bill, and turned into one of its most spirited supporters.

“When people say it's symbolic only, I disagree wholeheartedly. I want transgendered individuals to feel they can go to a police service, that they can go to a court, knowing full well that gender identity is in the Criminal Code and the Canadian Human Rights Act,” she told a committee.

There was some jubilation. It was passed in March, meaning that it was a sure-shot to get passed through the Senate and become law before the House rose for the summer. But it didn’t come to a vote. Nancy Ruth—Canada’s only openly gay Senator—introduced an amendment to the bill. Senator Neil Plett, a vocal opponent of the bill, adjourned the debate. A week later, the Senators broke for the summer, and the bill never came to a vote.

And when the prime minister prorogued parliament in the Fall, the bill had to start over in the Senate.

“If you could use a metaphor of snakes and ladders—it goes back a few steps,” one staffer explained to me.

So things started over last October and the interminable march forward for the bill began again. It was referred to committee in early June. There is no chance that the bill will be referred back to the Senate before summer break. There is virtually no hope that it will come back by September. Most don’t think it will be passed before Christmas. Senator Ruth thinks it might not come forward before the next election.

The shady way in which the bill has been punted time and time again is making one thing abundantly clear: someone important doesn’t want this bill to pass.

A game about power and influence.

Senators Plett and Ruth have been the two vocal opponents to the bill.

I sat down with Senator Plett to ask about his objections. 

“The pedophiles, the Chris Hambrooks of the world, can use this law to their advantage,” he said. Problem is, the courts decided that Hambrook was not legitimately transgendered, and was sentenced to an indefinite jail sentence for being a dangerous offender.

In practise, adding ‘gender identity’ to the Human Rights Act allows rapists to sneak into women’s shelters in the same way that it allows neo-nazis to claim that cross-burning is allowed because it’s part of their religion.

But Plett has always positioned himself as thoughtful about the bill. “If we want to look at a bill [that prevents workplace discrimination], I would look at with open eyes,” Plett told me. I pointed out to him that the sections of the bill that amend the Human Rights Act aim to do exactly that. Three provinces and one territory already have similar changes to their provincial human rights legislation, and they have not permitted sexual assault like what Plett describes.

“Then, let’s take the Criminal Code aspect out of it,” he responded.

I asked: the amendments to the Criminal Code cover hate crimes. As one study points out, some 20 percent of trans people report being physically or sexually assaulted. Do you support making hate crimes against trans people illegal?

“I entirely, 100% support laws that deal with hate crimes,” he added.

I asked which sections of the bill he didn't support: “The sections that make it absolutely open, or gives the right, for you or me, as a biological male, to go and say ‘I want to stay in a women’s shelter,’” he said.

Senator Plett is the government’s lead on the bill in the Senate, and he will be sitting on the committee that studies the bill in the Fall.  Senator Ruth opposes the bill because she’s upset that the bill doesn’t contain protections for women—‘sex’ is not a an identifiable group in one section of the Criminal Code. “It’s quite simple: there’s no way, as a feminist for many, many decades, I’m going to accept a small group of women having protection in the criminal code without the majority having protection in the criminal code,” she told me.

Ruth also firmly believes that ‘gender identity’ would not include women. She wants the word ‘sex’ in the bill, or else there will be trouble.

“Sex is the word. Stop giving me this gender shit,” she said.

The two Senators are the face of the bill. Senator Plett has continuously prolonged the debate, and Senator Ruth’s attempted hijack occurred just as the bill was supposed to come to a vote last year. It promises to do so again, if her concerns are not addressed.

But the two are not the sole reasons that this bill hasn’t passed.

“That this bill has been held up by the parliamentary process is accurate. So have other bills. Is there a discriminatory feeling in the Senate against people who are trans, on some people’s part? Maybe. Is it enough to defeat the vote? I don’t know,” Ruth said. She also identifies some resentment for the pro-Senate abolition NDP as one factor.

“They’ve been smearing us for a couple of years, like everybody else, and they want us to do their business?” She laughs. She also blames the Senate Liberals for dragging their feet.

I asked Senator Grant Mitchell, the Liberal proponent of the bill. He says Ruth’s assertion is “absurd.” Mitchell says he had 18 Conservative Senators ready to vote for the bill. He says the Senate Liberals prioritized the bill, in an effort to get it passed quickly. The Conservatives, he notes, could pass it within a week, whenever they want.

“It’s not us who’s stopping it,” Mitchell says. “The government is stopping it.”

Nancy Ruth put it bluntly.  “This is a game about power and influence, eh?” she said. “One of the mistakes that the trans community has is that they think it’s all about them. It’s not really about them.”

It was a cute trick.

In what may be the most fitting display of sad irony, Garrison tried to find a backdoor for the changes, only to have the door slammed shut by some of the Conservatives who had helped him pass the bill the first time.

During debate on the Tories’ cyberbullying legislation, C-13 (the one that will give police unprecedented new powers), Garrison saw an opportunity. One section of the bill updates the Criminal Code to expand the definition of ‘identifiable group’ to add: national origin, age, sex, or mental or physical disability.

Garrison introduced an amendment to add gender identity to that list.

Bob Dechert, Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister of Justice, snuffed out that glimmer of hope.

“As Mr. Garrison will know, there was no witness testimony heard by the committee on this point. He's pointed out that this is contained in Bill C-279, which is currently before the Senate. Therefore we believe that it would be inappropriate to bring it here where we haven't heard witness testimony. We should allow the Senate to complete its work on that matter,” Dechert told the committee—the same committee that had studied C-279 twice.

The Conservatives killed a motion to protect trans people from hate crimes in a bill ostensibly about bullying. “If they wanted these provisions to go through, they had that change yesterday,” Garrison said the day after his amendment’s defeat. “They chose to vote it down.”

Garrison says it’s proof: the Conservative Government is never going to pass C-279. The bill is dead.

VICE tracked down Conservative MPs David Wilks and Gerald Keddy, both of whom are on the Justice committee and who had supported C-279 when it was in the House of Commons. Wilks, for his part, says it was poor timing. He rushed out of committee just before the vote to watch the memorial for the three RCMP officers killed in the Moncton shooting. Wilks is a former RCMP officer.

Keddy was on the committee, and voted against the amendment. When asked why, he muttered, “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” as he walked away, and into the foyer of the House of Commons.

Dechert, when asked, said it would be “inappropriate” and “unconstitutional” for the House to try and pass the changes in C-13, while C-279 still sits in the Senate. “It was a cute trick,” he says. But added: “the bill didn’t have anything to do with that,” referring to enshrining protections for trans people.

Minister Raitt, when asked, simply said: “You know how I voted last time, right?” Before heading into the House of Commons.

Justice Minister Peter MacKay wouldn’t answer questions. Neither would House Leader Peter Van Loan, who is responsible for the government’s legislative agenda.

While it’s tough to divine just why the Harper Government would pull the football out every time, there may be a very simple explanation: money.

If Ottawa did insert gender identity into the Human Rights Act, the door would immediately swing open for trans people to have gender reassignment surgery covered.

In Canada, the patchwork of provincial healthcare systems are not tremendously accommodating to those who want to undergo the medical sexual reassignment process—whether it be just hormone therapy, or full surgery. It is costly, requires extensive physiatrics evaluations, and has mind-numbing waiting lines. Many fly to Thailand and pay out-of-pocket, rather than navigate the Canadian system. Some have used crowdfunding as a way to defray expenses. Many provinces still require the full surgical procedure in order to update your government documentation.

That’s to say nothing for the groups that the federal government provides healthcare to—soldiers, veterans, federal inmates, and refugees.

If C-279 passes, it would empower trans people to change the discriminatory hoops that they must jump through in order to obtain necessary medical procedures. Given that the medical procedures cost around $33,000 per person, that ain’t cheap.

Whatever the reason, the government seems determined to hold the bill, further delaying the long-anticipated dream for full, explicit protections for trans people.

Susan Gapka is the founder of the Trans Lobby Group. She’s long been a champion of the bill, and its provincial equivalents. Thanks to its Ontario counterpart—referred to as Toby’s Act—Gapka has been training governments and police services on how to establish trans-friendly policies.

“I was more optimistic, myself, previously,” says Gapka of C-279. “A Stephen Harper majority was the worst case scenario for this bill.”

The optimism of having the bill passed through the House appears to have dissipated.

“There seems to be someone ordering this stuff,” Gapka says. But she, and other trans activists in Canada, aren’t giving up. She admits, at this point, the only real option on the federal level appears to be to replace Stephen Harper.

So once again, the trans community will have to get up, dust itself off, and take another kick at the football.


@justin_ling

Photos by the author

Twenty years after the Rwandan genocide, the country is still coming to terms with what took place during that period of extreme violence. Perpetrators are still being brought to justice, and heroic stories are still emerging.

One such story belongs to Zula Karuhimbi, a woman some Rwandans claim saved more than 100 people through “sorcery.”

After we learned that she lived in the southern Ruhango District, we drove from Kigali to find her. On the way, we stopped at a roadside restaurant, where we told the waiter we were searching for the “witch” who had saved lives during the genocide. “The witch who was honored by the government?” a customer asked. “I know where she lives. I'll take you to her.”

He brought us to Musamo Village, where we abandoned our car and ploughed by foot through waist-high shrubbery. Turning into an enclosure, we found Karuhimbi asleep on a straw mat outside a tiny house. She was hugging a small child, who, we later discovered, was an orphaned boy she had recently adopted.

She looked wizened and frail as she slept, but she jumped to attention when we told her we had come to hear her story. “Yes,” she confirmed, “I’m the Zula who hid Tutsis.” Pointing to the ground, she said, “I put them here in the compound and covered them with dry leaves of beans and baskets.” As many as 100 Tutsis, 50 Tutsis, two Twas, and three white men had taken refuge in and around her tiny two-room house during the three-month genocide in 1994.

“I hid so many people that I don't know some of their names. I hid little babies I found on the backs of their dead mothers, and I brought them here.”

When the militia encircled her enclosure, Karuhimbi covered her hands in herbs that would cause skin irritation, according to The New Times. She touched the killers—who became fearful because they believed she was cursing them—and then retreated inside her house. She grabbed whatever she could find and shook it, claiming that it was the sound of the spirits becoming angry. “I hid those people seriously. I'd prepare some magic, and when the killers came, I'd tell them I would kill them. I told them no Tutsis had come to my house—that no one comes in my house—while all the time they were all inside.”

Karuhimbi grew up in a family of traditional healers. Her identity card indicates that she was born in 1925, making her five or six when the Belgian administration deposted Rwandan King Yuhi Musinga, who had been in power for 35 years, partly because of his refusal to be baptized as a Roman Catholic. During this period, Karuhimbi said, her mother would regularly hide people, and she was responsible for delivering their food. “Whenever I spoke out, I’d be beaten by my mother, who eventually brought a fiery leaf of a plant and slid it over my lips and told me, ‘If you say anything I will kill you.’”

When Karuhimbi was eight, the Belgians conducted a country-wide census to issue “ethnic” identity cards, classifying every Rwandan as either Hutu (85 percent), Tutsi (14 percent), or Twa (1 percent). A system similar to Apartheid ensued. Tutsis were given a monopoly on political and administrative jobs, while many Hutus were engaged in forced labor, according to We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed  with Our Families.

This grouping inspired division and tribalism. In March 1957, nine Hutu intellectuals published The Hutu Manifesto, which stated that Rwanda was a country of a Hutu majority and it was time for “democratization.” Two years later, a group of Tutsis beat up Hutu politician Dominique Mbonyumutwa, sparking retaliatory attacks that led to the deaths of 20,000.

During this period, Karuhimbi claimed, she saved the life of current Rwandan President Paul Kagame, who was born in a neighboring village and was two years old when the violence erupted. “I took the beads off my necklace and told his mother to tie it in his hair. I told her to carry her son and not put him down, so the militia would think he looked like a girl when they saw him, because they only killed boys at that time,” she said. “I told her to take him far away, and then I knelt down and prayed, saying if God helps him he will come back and work for us and he will be the heir of Rwanda.” Kagame went on to command the Rwandan Patriotic Front, the army whose victory brought an end to the genocide.

Since the conflict ended, Rwanda has experienced a significant amount of growth and development. Although this has increased the standard of life for many Rwandans, it has been accompanied by a move away from more traditional ways of being. Karuhimbi said that she can produce potions to fix ugliness or unemployment. In front of her house, herbs dried in the sun. Her bedroom has a stone floor, and the remnants of a fire in one corner. Ushering us inside, she reached under the mattress for yellow powder that encouraged us to snort because it would fix our “head problems.” She said before she had snorted some herself and then coughed and spat on the floor.

Pouring ash through a sieve, she told me that this mixture will rid me of both mosquito bites and freckles. She emptied it into an envelope, which I later easily smuggled through customs.

Twenty years ago, 40 Tutsis hid in this tiny room—20 under her bed, and 20 above a false ceiling. The minute window lets only a sliver of light inside, and with no electricity—then or now—I struggled to imagine the inhabitants lying side by side for almost 100 days, enduring pitch-black nights with little hope of salvation.

Today Karuhimbi organizes her potions in this room, but fewer and fewer locals accept her craft. Traditional medicine is being rejected in Rwanda, where it’s viewed as backward and sometimes even Satanic. Karuhimbi's niece takes care of her occasionally, but Karuhimbi sadly said her niece won't accept the medicine she tries to give her for her stomach aches because she’s a “saved Christian.”

Though Karuhimbi’s concoctions are becoming redundant, many Rwandans still believe in witchcraft. (Some people consider women like Karuhimbi a witch, while others consider them healers.) On Easter Sunday in Kigali's Kimironko Church, the pastor preached about the threat of witches: “There are many witch people in the world. When you want to kill them you can't. They move around everywhere.” 

But maybe Karuhimbi's unconventional lifestyle may be what enabled her to save lives.

The Rwandan genocide was one of the most intimate—and one of the most shocking—mass killings in modern history. Neighbors, colleagues, and friends murdered 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus, occasionally with guns but mostly with the machetes they used for everyday farming.

At first, the rampage was methodical and swift. Pockets of resistance were almost nonexistent—something that astounded anyone who tried to make sense of what had happened after the fact. This wasn’t a war; it was an extermination.

In a time of mob action, Karuhimbi's actions were remarkable.

She said she acted selflessly because all humans are born of the same traditional god-like figure Kimanuka, and therefore it was the only behavior that made sense to her. “These white men you see, they are born of us. We are one people.” She said she is certain of this because in the past, if there was a clap of thunder while a Rwandan was giving birth, their baby was born white. The same unity exists between Hutus, Tutsis, and Twas. “We are one. Our forefathers and foremothers are one for all of us. We are siblings to each other.”

Twenty years later, her house still displays remnants of the war. Bullet holes dotted the house’s front wall from when the Interahamwe ("Killers") fired at it. “When they shot I told everyone in the compound to lie down so that the bullets would pass over them,” she said.

“They killed my first-born, my son Hanganimana; and my other daughter, Ugiriwabo, was poisoned and died. People would mock me, saying, 'You hid people, but your own children were killed,' and I replied to them, saying, 'Our days to pass away are not the same. God is the only one who understands why these things happen.’”

At one point, she pulled out photos of some of the people she saved, which she keeps among her most treasured possessions. Few of them come to visit her anymore, due to sickness, forgetfulness, or death. She spoke nostalgically about one of the children in particular, Emmanuel, who was a baby when she found him. “I don't know where he is now,” she said.

Karuhimbi has been lauded several times for her actions. In 2006 she was presented with Rwanda's Campaign Against Genocide Medal, according to The New Times. When President Kagame gave her the award, she told him that she had saved his life as a child. She said he replied with the statement: “I wish they were all witches like you.”

In 2009, a tree was planted in her honor in the Garden of the Righteous in Padua, Italy. She was flown there for the occasion, though she herself can no longer recall the name of the country she visited.

Eighty-nine-year-old Karuhimbi has firm faith in the state's current leadership, but when we asked her how she felt about the future of her country’s politics, that wasn’t her first thought. This diminutive but composed woman, who has stood strong through destruction, death, and tragedy, said there is only one real thing that matters in life: “Love is the most important thing. Find someone to love and the future will always be bright.”

Follow Sally Hayden on Twitter.

An inmate in St. Clair Correctional Facility. All photos courtesy of Southern Poverty Law Center

On June 3, Jodey Waldrop, a 36-year-old inmate at the St. Clair Correctional Facility in rural Springville, Alabama, was lying in his bed when somebody entered his cell and stabbed him in the neck with a shank. Prison officials say they got Waldrop, who was bleeding profusely, to a hospital 19 miles away within minutes, but nothing could be done. He was pronounced dead approximately an hour after the attack.

Waldrop's death marked the third time a prisoner has been murdered in St. Clair’s walls during the past ten months (the other two victims were also stabbed to death with shanks), and the fifth time in the last 30 months. To put that in perspective, state prisons nationwide—which are home to 1.35 million inmates—saw an average of 52 homicides between 2001 and 2010, according to Bureau of Justice Statistics. St. Clair, meanwhile, has fewer than 1,500 inmates but has seen three killings in under a year.

So how does a small prison in northeast Alabama become one of the dangerous lockups in the country?

According to Bryan Stevenson, executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, a prison reform nonprofit in Alabama, St. Clair’s problems stem from a toxic mix of factors: overcrowding, a warden who doesn't care what prisoners do to one another, and drug-dealing guards who sometimes order hits on inmates.

“There is a lot of illegal activity by correctional staff—they’re smuggling in drugs, cell phones, and other contraband,” Stevenson told me. “These officers bring the stuff in and have inmates collect the money. And when people refuse to pay, oftentimes violence is ordered by the officers to make sure that they recover what they’re supposed to get.”

Inmates are vulnerable to attacks, Stevenson claims, because the cells are far too easy to break into.

“There are a lot of cells where prisoners are high-risk and are supposed to be locked in—but most of these cell doors don’t work,” Stevenson said. “Any inmate can ‘trick’ a cell door and let themselves out or in. And as a result of that, a lot of these [attacks] are taking place while prisoners are sleeping at night. That’s what happened to Mr. Waldrop two weeks ago. He was stabbed while sleeping on his cot. We’ve had other instances like that, where people trick the doors and get in or out.”

Melvin Ray, a prisoner at St. Clair who leads the Free Alabama Movement (FAM), a group of inmates that works to bring awareness to the problems in the state's prisons, told me that the violence escalated after St. Clair’s warden, Carter Davenport, began eliminating programs, including Conflicts Against Violence, that used mediation to seek peaceful resolutions between inmates.

"It takes a pretty brave person to get in between two convicts having a problem," Ray said. "But we would do that, sit them down, talk it out, and sometimes get them into programs that would help change their thought process." 

Ray added that resources for those sorts of programs have been cut drastically and that prisoners lack a chance to get rehabilitated.

"Many people in here come from the streets, where violence is how problems are dealt with because the cops don't care," he said. "The programs could help change that thought process."

Another reason for the increase in violence is segregation. "Almost all the assaults and rapes and every one of the murders have happened in cell blocks L, M, P, Q, and lockup," Ray told me. These cell blocks house mostly black prisoners and are devoid of any books, newspapers, televisions, or other entertainment options. Other blocks—where there are more white prisoners—have more amenities, according to Ray.

A dormitory in Kilby Correctional Facility in Mount Meigs, Alabama.

No one at the Alabama Department of Corrections would talk to me for this story, but according to Stevenson, Davenport is aware of these problems—he just doesn't care very much.

“The warden knows these doors don’t function properly but has taken no action to secure the locks on these cell doors,” Stevenson said. “[Guards] allow prisoners to sleep in areas where they’re not authorized, and oftentimes that’s a precondition to some acts of violence being carried out. You get somebody with a knife or shank or weapon to sleep in your bed, close to the intended victim, and then carry out the incident. You come back and you can legitimately say you didn’t do it.”

The omnipresent threat of getting attacked has created a sense of tension at St. Clair that begets more violence. If you're always worried about getting shanked, you're going to be a bit on edge.

“It’s a pretty miserable place—the level of anxiety is very high,” Stevenson said. “People are being brought to the infirmary each day from some kind of stabbing injury, sometimes life-threatening. That keeps tension high. When there’s a lot of violence like that, everybody feels that they have to arm themselves, so then you do more than get a knife or a shank or some type of weapon. People don’t interact in a way that allows for conflicts to be resolved amicably, because you fear that somebody is gonna come back after you, so it just creates a very, very bad environment.”

The drug trade and faulty locks aren’t the only institutional problems in the prison. For one thing, the correction officers and the inmates aren't from the same world: Prisoners are mostly sent to St. Clair from cities like Birmingham, Montgomery, and Mobile, while the guards are from the rural area surrounding Springville (population 2,521). This can cause misunderstandings and hostility, Stevenson said, because the corrections officers are “culturally unprepared for dealing with this population.”

In addition, many of St. Clair's prisoners are serving long sentences, and many of them committed violent crimes; the three men killed in the past ten months, including Waldrop, were convicted of murder. But many are doing long sentences for drug and property crimes, like Robert Earl Phillips, who was given 70 years in prison for an armed robbery he committed when he was 16 because he had a gun.

A room full of files in Donaldson Correctional Facility

Prison populations consisting predominantly of people serving drastic sentences can be difficult to manage because inmates have a sense of hopelessness that can lead to reckless behavior. One way to mitigate that is through programs that offer incentives to those who participate, whether that means extra privileges or just activities that give a sense of accomplishment. Louisiana's Angola prison—once known for being one of the worst detention facilities in the country—is now seen as a model for inmates doing life sentences in part thanks to such programs.

“Angola used to be a horrific place,” Stevenson said. “Things changed, and now it's dramatically less violent. And that's a prison where almost everybody is serving life with no chance of parole. But you see probably the best prison-run newspaper in the country. They have a prison-run radio station; they have a prison-run TV station; they have horticulture. And because of this sort of different approach to facilitating people with very long sentences, you have dramatically less violence in a prison that is still four times the size of St. Clair.”

Ray agrees with Stevenson that more programs would help the St. Clair inmates. "These people have no activities to engage in and nothing to stimulate them," he said. "It's like a black hole—there's no outlet for the violence."

Stevenson has called for Davenport's removal as warden, and the local media has looked into his spotty record, in the process uncovering a 2012 incident in which he punched a handcuffed prisoner in the head for mouthing off. But in Alabama prisons, unlike many other places, hitting a handcuffed man isn’t a crime; Davenport merely got a two-day suspension, reported AL.com.

In addition, the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) recently filed a lawsuit against the Alabama Department of Corrections for not providing inmates with adequate health care, with St. Clair prisoners among the plaintiffs.

In a press release, the SPLC claimed that “prisoners, including those with disabilities and serious physical and mental illnesses, are confined to prisons where discrimination and dangerous—sometimes life-threatening—conditions are the norm.” And a report the organization released this month described a situation at St. Clair where an inmate was repeatedly slashing his own arms. But instead of getting mental health treatment, he was ignored—and on one occasion, the guards even beat him.

“Why don't you just go ahead and kill yourself?” a corrections officer reportedly told the self-harming prisoner.

The problems in Alabama's prisons got some nationwide media exposure in April, when members of FAM went on strike to get wages for the work they do. (The state uses unpaid prison labor for everything from making license plates to assembling furniture.) According to Alabama Prison Watch, Ray was then placed in solitary for his activities, which have included bringing attention to unjust sentences, as he does in this video interview with Robert Earl Phillips:

“In Alabama, they take every opportunity they can to take your life as a young black man and sterilize you—not by castrating you, but by separating you from society,” Ray says in the video.

So far, the concerted efforts of the FAM, the SPLC, and advocates like Stevenson haven't resulted in systemic change. Although improving Alabama prisons has been a topic of concern in the state since the Department of Justice investigated the chronic sexual-abuse problem at the Julia Tutwiler Prison for Women earlier this year, reforming the state’s lockups has been an uphill battle. There are few votes to be had in making conditions less horrible for the state’s inmates, so there’s no reason for Alabaman politicians to campaign on the issue. The state Department of Corrections could institute some changes on its own—but if prison authorities aren’t interested in fixing St. Clair's locks or penalizing a warden for punching a handcuffed inmate in the head, it’s hard to imagine they’ll make reducing violence in their facilities a priority.

Ray doesn't believe the problems can be changed by the current leadership.

"They don't care. They think this is how prison is supposed to be," he told me. "Us prisoners will have to do it ourselves."

Follow Ray Downs on Twitter.

This April photographer Ben Clement took a break from shooting weird shit in his hometown of Melbourne to shoot weird shit in Tokyo. He spent his time hanging out with friends, skating, and generally soaking up a quieter side of the world's largest metropolis than we usually seen. Ben said of the trip, “Tokyo is this super interesting culture that is hard to pinpoint. It has the best food, the nicest people, it's super easy to get around, the coffee is on par with Melbourne, and the strangest encounters are around every corner.” Photographers in Japan generally fixate on the feeling of cultural overdose, but the city through Ben’s eyes borders on serene.

Check out more of Ben's work here.

Colorado GOP chair Ryan Call addressing a lily-white organizing conference last spring. Photo via Flickr user Paul Swansen

When a hardcore Democrat encounters someone who is young, gay, poor, an artist, or a racial minority and who also identifies as a Republican, a confused look of disgust often crosses his or her face, as if an unpleasant and unidentifiable odor just entered the room. The confusion is understandable, since there is statistical evidence that the Democratic Party comfortably holds many of these groups beneath their blue thumb. But Colorado Republican Party chairman Ryan Call believes Democrats often bully people into reinforcing this stereotype. He says his party is not out of touch with creative, young, minority folk and aims to prove it with his #IVoteRepublican campaign.

“We’re approaching issues differently than how our party has in the past,” Call told me recently. “We recognized that there is a disconnect with the way people view the Republican Party and the way the policies we seek to advance impact individual people’s lives... Ours is the party that first supported women’s right to vote, and we have a history in the fight against slavery and the fight for civil rights. Our aim is to create opportunities for the poor and expand the middle class. It’s a profound misperception that ours is the party of the wealthy or the elite.

“The Democrats have created this culture of group identity,” he continued. “If you’re a minority, a young person, a woman, they say, 'Of course you’re going to vote Democrat.’ Whereas Republicans are about the individual.”   

Inspired by the wildly successful use of social media during Obama’s presidential campaigns, as well as the #ItGetsBetter LGBT project, #IVoteRepublican aims to humanize and youth-ify the GOP through a series of promotional videos (besides inviting people to film and submit their own stories of being a Republican) that profile three character types not often represented in conservative branding: a professional snowboarder, a black musician, and a Mexican immigrant mother.  

“There isn’t any specific stereotype that defines me or anyone else,” Republican snowboarder Braden Wahr says in one video, looking like an amalgamation of Tony Hawk and Bobby Kennedy.

Dressed in a hipster bowtie and pink shirt, former contestant on The Voice Biff Gore professes his love for iconic civil rights anthem “A Change is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke in the first five seconds of his advertisement, followed by clips of him with his beatific black family, later reading an issue of Life magazine with George Harrison on the cover.

Blanca Pyle is a young Mexican mother with a nose ring and ombré highlights who “came to America when I was 15 years old” and “didn’t speak English.” She put herself through school, became a citizen, and eventually rose out of poverty as a physician’s assistant. When she delivers the “I Vote Republican” tagline that concludes all three of these videos, she says it in Spanish.

The videos are wildly similar in tone and tactic to the “And I’m A Mormon” campaign (which boasted an entry from The Killers’ Brandon Flowers in 2011), in that their focus is primarily on the admirable, touching aspects of their subjects, with little to no mention of the organization to which they’re tied—or their policies. This avoids the backlash the national GOP encountered earlier in the spring with their “hipster Republican” campaign (as it has subsequently been dubbed), featuring a haughty youngster in leather jacket and tortoise-shell glasses snidely complaining about Democrats being responsible for unemployment and high gas prices. The ads were later parodied by Last Week Tonight host John Oliver, who pointed out the fallacy of the young man’s arguments while mocking their transparent attempts at youth marketing.

Last fall, Coloradans saw the Democratic version of this with the “Got Insurance?” campaign, also dubbed “Brosurance,” in which young adults, women, and minorities were encouraged to sign up for plans under the Affordable Care Act (a.k.a. ObamaCare). This was the brainchild of the nonprofit Colorado Consumer Health Initiative and Progress, and featured frat-style keg-stands, a Ryan Gosling cut-out, and witty birth-control taglines like “OMG he’s hot! Let’s hope he’s as easy to get as this birth control!”

The ads were mocked by The Daily Show’s Aasif Mandvi and other commentators for boiling down a complex issue to a meathead stereotype—but not for being out of touch culturally. The Foo Fighters, Will.i.am and Zach Galifianakis all look as comfortable as a Southern Colonel napping in a rocking chair when placed next to Obama. And when he adopted the revolutionary slogan of oppressed minority farmers—Sí, se puede!—for his presidential campaign, it came off as an appropriate and graceful marriage. Indeed, since Rock the Vote in the early 90s, we’ve had no problem accepting a liberal identity that appropriates youth and minority culture. Yet whenever we hear that LL Cool J, Vincent Gallo, Alice Cooper, Johnny Ramone, or 50 Cent are all Republicans, it’s difficult to compute, like a surreal painting that makes you slightly dizzy.

I recently spoke with Denver stand-up comedian—and gay, pot smoking Republican—Chuck Roy, who says that he is often confronted by Democrats who refuse to accept his political affiliations.

“When I was performing at Red Rocks, I met [Democratic Colorado] Governor [John] Hickenlooper backstage, and the minute he found out I was gay he was like, ‘We gotta get you to become a Democrat,’” Roy told me. “Democratic theory operates off of populism, populism operates off of bullying, and bullying is the tactic used when people say to me, ‘I can’t believe that you are a Republican.’ That’s the difference between populism and individualism. They look at the world and think, All Republicans are like this. Democrats never stop to think what it’s like to be in the shoes of a gay Republican. I’m just an artist who's trying to not take money from the government.”

Of course, Colorado Democratic Party chairman Rick Palacio doesn’t agree that these Republican archetypes are the product of bullying. Instead, he sees them as self-inflicted wounds that stem directly from the conservative party’s voting record.

“It’s pretty laughable that they think voting against equal pay for women, voting against immigration, will get these groups to vote for Republicans,” Palacio says. “Republicans will often demonize these constituencies, and it turns them off when it comes to having conversations about other policy issues.”

Because of their voting record and successful branding efforts, the public seems to have a pretty clear grasp of the Democratic archetype. Yet over the last few years the identity of the Republican party has become more and more fuzzy, as seen in divisive internal conflicts over gay marriage, climate change, use of military force abroad—and, most recently in Colorado, marijuana.

Perennial Colorado gubernatorial candidate Tom Tancredo has gained some traction in the Republican primary race, most likely due to his signature hard-right stances on immigration and Second Amendment rights. Hickenlooper’s controversial gun control legislation will be a hot topic in the 2014 election (after all, it lead to two successful recall elections of our state senators), though immigration issues in Colorado require a softer, more practical tone than the one we recently saw in Virginia, where House Majority Leader Eric Cantor was ousted at least in part due to the perception that he might support "amnesty" for illegal immigrants.

Yet Tancredo has also been a vocal advocate for marijuana decriminalization long before the passage in 2012 of Colorado’s recreational-use measure, Amendment 64. And with Hickenlooper maintaining strong vocal opposition to a regulated cannabis industry, if Tancredo becomes his opponent for the governor’s office, legal marijuana could become an issue that works in the Republicans' favor. (Especially considering that more Coloradans voted for marijuana legalization in 2012 than voted for Obama.)

“There is a difference of opinion within our party with regard to marijuana legalization,” Call, the Colorado GOP leader, told me. “There’s concern about the impact on children and workers, but there’s also a significant percentage of our party that thinks the government needs to limit regulations that impact individual’s choices, so long as there is personal responsibility taken.”

As I spoke with Call, he was between meetings with the Republican National Convention site selection committee, attempting to persuade members of his party that Denver was the ideal location to host the confab in 2016. Legal pot was presumably one topic of conversation during those meetings; we can fairly assume there will be some more internal edebate about whether this issue can be made to help Republicans.

The Colorado primaries will be held this Tuesday. According to Richard Nixon’s playbook, it’s important for a Republican candidate to run to the right during the primaries and steer the ship back to the center for the general election. But in the current climate of the 2014 season—with a leading gubernatorial candidate touting the virtues of legal pot, and the state GOP ostentatiously appealing to artists, minorities, women, and the poor—it’s getting harder to figure out exactly what running to the right means anymore.

Josiah Hesse is a journalist from Denver covering the local music, comedy, marijuana, and political landscapes. Follow him on Twitter.

"Lord Aleem" jumping out of an Audi R8 Spyder. Photo via @lordaleem_official

The Rich Kids of Instagram (#RKOI) is a group made up of the sons and daughters of the world's one-percenters. They enjoy showing the internet how filthy-rich they are, posting pictures of themselves jumping into the water out of helicopters and their gaudy toilets made of gold tiles, among other annoying things. But if you look past the worry-free lifestyle they promote on social media, you'll find they have it just as hard as the rest of us. Last week, “Lord Aleem”—a.k.a. 19-year-old Aleem Iqbal, whose father owns a Birmingham, UK–based luxury-car rental firm—had four vehicles torched in as many days, totaling around $850,000 worth of damage. Of course, you might argue it was his own fault—that any of us might attract the attention of arsonists if we relentlessly posted photos of our luxury-car collections—but it's never a nice feeling to watch your most valued possessions being set on fire.

Following the attacks, Aleem suggested that they could either be “a vile act of jealously,” or simply some “mindless vandals on an arson spree.” Regardless of the motive, he promised that “when they get caught” they’ll be “going down for a long time.”

Speculative statements are all well and good, but the news still made me wonder whether any other #RKOI are now worried that their own belongings are going to be targeted by marauding fire starters. To find out, I searched for the Rich Kids of Instagram hashtag and spoke to a few of the people I found.

A typical Instagram post from @a_george_life (Click to enlarge)

VICE: What do you think of what's happened to Lord Aleem?
@a_george_life: Lord Aleem shared his address on Instagram, which was a mistake. I've met Aleem a few times. He's a polite and kind-natured individual, but he sometimes lets his "fame" get ahead of him.

Do you worry a similar thing could happen to you?
I keep a tight lid on my location, and I’ve never taken pictures of my house or of the area I live in. I have a very high level of security, so I feel safe. You're right—you never know if someone is planning to attack you out of jealousy, but I'm well prepared for such an event.

You don't share your address, but you do post photos of license plates and that kind of thing.
The plates don't matter because I register the cars in other people's names and keep them in garages. Besides, I've since sold a lot of cars on there and now have different ones.

Why did you first decide to show the internet how wealthy you are?
I simply enjoy looking at other people's pictures, and I'm sure people enjoy mine. For example, I buy rounds of drinks because I like to share what I have with my friends. I like to give other people an insight into that lifestyle. I don’t do it to flaunt my wealth or try to be a Z-list celebrity—I use #RKOI to help share my pictures because Rich Kids of Instagram is popular and I'm happy people gain pleasure from my pictures.

Fair enough. Do you get many haters online?
I receive very little backlash from haters, but when I do it doesn't bother me; I couldn't care less about the opinion of someone I don’t know. I appreciate kind words because I believe a positive attitude leads to positive accomplishments, whereas being negative leads nowhere.

A typical Instagram post from @akinbelfon17 (Click to enlarge)

Does it worry you that what happened to Lord Aleem could potentially happen to you?
@akinbelfon17: Yes, it worries me that I may be the target of thieves, and that’s why I don't give out my personal information to anyone who contacts me online.

Do you think it's a good idea to flaunt your wealth online?
I do think it’s a good idea, because I’m not doing it to make anyone feel bad—I’m just doing it because it’s fun and people like the pictures I post. They don't take it too seriously or as an insult.

You describe your occupation as #funemployed on your Instagram.
Yeah, I think "funemployed" describes the life I'm living perfectly, and I don’t think it has any bad connotations. I don't plan on being funemployed for the rest of my life. I know eventually that I might have to get a job and start supporting myself.

Do you think there are any problems with being famous for simply being a #RKOI?
No. I hope to become famous from the pictures I post. I don't think it’s a problem. Many people have become famous just for posting pictures on Instagram and videos on the internet. Some people have even got their own reality show for being a #RKOI.

A typical Instagram post from @goodlife_lucas (Click to enlarge)

Does it worry you that you could find yourself in the same situation as Lord Aleem?
@goodlife_lucas: I must say, it is pretty horrifying. We must never forget that the internet is real life, and some people pay the price for it. Even if I love showing off my luxurious lifestyle on Instagram, I tend to be much more discreet in real life. I wouldn't want something like that to happen to me.

But you have no problem flaunting your wealth online?
I enjoy sharing my lifestyle with the world, and it’s also a way to provoke and shock some people. And it’s not really flaunting—it’s just my daily life documented. Plus, I really think that people need to see that if you work hard you'll get whatever you want. Work hard and play hard!   

Do you get much backlash over any of the images you post?
Not really. It’s much more like a mix of admiration and jealousy. I don’t think people see rich people in a good way, and therefore they use social media like Instagram to spread their hate. But, in the end, they just crave the same life.

OK. Would anything stop you from uploading the images you post?
Maybe I’ll stop uploading. Even though nothing like what happened to Lord Aleem has happened to me, it’s starting to frighten me.

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PHOTOS BY ARVIDA BYSTROM
Fashion Coordination: Annette Lamothe-Ramos

Models: Arvida Bystrom, Katya Lindeberg, and Julia Thelin

Special thanks to Katya Lindeberg

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American Apparel shirts and underwear

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Tiger of Sweden shirt; Topshop dress; Filppa K dress

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